#Processing of rubber products

[puflatfreefactory]

10" High temperature vulcanization molding, Lawn mower solid rubber tire...

[jasminocorporation]

Unlocking the Secrets of Rubber Lining: A Comprehensive Overview

Rubber lining is a critical process in various industries, providing protection against corrosion, abrasion, and chemical damage. In this comprehensive guide, we delve into the intricacies of rubber lining, exploring its applications, benefits, and best practices for optimal performance.

Understanding Rubber Lining

What is Rubber Lining?

Rubber lining involves the application of a protective layer of rubber to surfaces exposed to harsh environments, such as tanks, pipelines, and industrial equipment. This layer acts as a barrier, shielding the underlying material from corrosive substances and abrasive elements.

How Does Rubber Lining Work?

During the rubber lining process, specially formulated rubber compounds are applied to the surface of the substrate using techniques such as spraying or vulcanization. The rubber material bonds securely to the substrate, forming a durable and resilient protective barrier.

Applications of Rubber Lining

1. Corrosion Protection

One of the primary applications of rubber lining is corrosion protection. Rubber-lined surfaces are resistant to a wide range of corrosive substances, including acids, alkalis, and salts, making them ideal for use in chemical processing plants, wastewater treatment facilities, and mining operations.

2. Abrasion Resistance

Rubber lining provides excellent resistance to abrasion, making it suitable for equipment and structures exposed to abrasive materials such as sand, gravel, and ore. It helps prolong the lifespan of assets by minimizing wear and tear caused by friction and impact.

3. Chemical Containment

Rubber lining is also used for chemical containment applications, where it prevents leaks and spills of hazardous substances. Rubber-lined tanks, vessels, and containment structures ensure the safe storage and handling of corrosive chemicals, protecting workers and the environment.

Benefits of Rubber Lining

(i) Enhanced Durability

Rubber lining enhances the durability of industrial equipment and structures by providing an additional layer of protection against corrosion, abrasion, and chemical damage. This extends the lifespan of assets, reducing the need for frequent repairs and replacements.

(ii) Cost Savings

By reducing maintenance requirements and minimizing the risk of equipment failure, rubber lining helps organizations save on operational costs in the long term. Investing in high-quality rubber lining can lead to significant savings over the life of industrial assets.

(iii) Versatility

Rubber lining is highly versatile and can be customized to suit the specific requirements of different applications and industries. From standard rubber compounds to specialized formulations, there are options available to meet a wide range of needs.

Best Practices for Rubber Lining

(a) Proper Surface Preparation

Before applying rubber lining, it is essential to prepare the substrate properly. This may involve cleaning the surface, removing rust or existing coatings, and roughening the surface to promote adhesion.

(b) Selection of Suitable Rubber Compounds

Choosing the right rubber compound is crucial to the success of the lining application. Factors to consider include the type of chemicals present, operating temperatures, and the level of abrasion resistance required.

(c) Quality Installation

Ensure that rubber lining is installed by trained professionals using proper techniques and equipment. Quality control measures should be in place to verify adhesion, thickness, and overall integrity of the lining.

Conclusion

Rubber lining is a versatile and effective solution for protecting industrial equipment and structures from a variety of hazards. By understanding its applications, benefits, and best practices, organizations can optimize the performance and longevity of their assets, leading to improved safety, efficiency, and cost savings.

Unlock the secrets of rubber lining and elevate your industrial protection measures today!

[tofu83]

What men bred for

4. Stallions and Cows

Countless transparent glass columns are filled with milky white liquid. The liquid surges and gradually recedes, and white figures appear from them.

Now in each column is a smooth, hairless, muscular male figure without genitals. The color of figure’s skin gradually deepens from completely white to normal skin color. Then, the hair and the genital grows, and the figure becomes indistinguishable from a real person.

A strong gust of wind blew through the columns, leaving the men dry and clean. There was a beep in the room and they all opened eyes, the glass of the tube also retracting into the floor. Countless men who looked exactly the same stepped out of the platform, turned left, and walked towards another room.

The two "wild earthlings" escorted by the security drones were shocked by the sight in front of them.

"You were cultivated in this factory, but not in this cloning room. Only the best individuals will be cloned and directly made into adult individuals for rapid shipment." The drones explained to them in a monotone, emotionless voice.

"And you are prey-type humans who were raised from infants to adults using traditional methods, and then released into the wild for hunting. You do not have the memory here because according to regulations, all products leaving the factory must have their memories erased."

Before the two humans could understand the information they heard, a naked man wearing a helmet walked past them with two armored men wearing the same helmet.

"They are the latest products: Space Patrollers. They will be partially mechanized and equipped with armor before leaving the factory to adapt to the harsh environment of outer space. The one in the middle should be considered "the best of the best", so the mechanization process was stopped. He will be modified into a "Stallion" and he will provide his semen to create excellent clones until he die."

" Yet you two are an inferior breed that does not know how to obey your alien masters. You cannot become soldiers, guards or other useful characters, except used as nothing but food." the security drones said.

"However, the R&D director of the factory believes that even wild low-level species like yours can be domesticated, so he arranged this factory tour for you."

The two prisoners were taken to the next room, which contained a row of huge glass tanks filled with milky white liquid, a super muscular man wearing a helmet and covered in black rubber armor, and a group of men wearing helmets, boots and metal briefs.

"What you see is the Bellwether and a whole herd of Cows. The screens on the inside of their helmets are playing scenes of human sexual intercourse in a loop, and the metal underwear constantly stimulates their genitals and arseholes, keeping them on the edge of climax for a long time.

The difference is: the semen of the Cows is of high quality and can be used as high-quality nutrition for the alien masters. They should fill the entire tanks with semen every day;

The Bellwether is responsible for managing the entire herd of dairy cows. Their own semen is of poor quality, but their desire for semen is so strong that they are not allowed to ejaculate but are fed semen as a reward for their work.”

"So why are the masters showing us this?" one of the prisoners asked tremblingly.

"It is a very good start for you to start calling 'Masters'. You will make preliminary adjustments, put on the mind control helmet, and assist the R&D director in the laboratory as a 'Quality Control Assistant' for one month. The earthlings who can serve as the Master's personal assistant is supreme glory."

"And after that?"

"After one month, your helmets will be removed, and the R&D director will review your degree of domestication to determine whether you can become better individuals, or you can only be destroyed."

Before the two prisoners could react, they were put on helmets. A spiral appeared in front of their eyes. The director's whispers sounded in their ears. At the same time, they also felt a device being installed on their groin, giving them a comfortable feeling.

The drone released the two prisoners, trembling with pleasure at the "reward" the armor had given them.

The two prisoners, now "Temporary Drones", were completely hypnotized, controlled by the helmet's instructions, and walked towards the quality control room like robots.

[concreteburialplot]

Banana Spa

pairing: nicholas ruffilo x fem!reader

masterlist: here | crossposted: ao3 | word count: 9.6k

summary: you decide to treat your boyfriend to an at home spa day before he leaves for tour again :)

warnings/themes: established relationship, sugary sweet fluff ???¿ who am i??¿, briefly sad??, light sub/dom dynamics, soft dom nick, sub reader, massage, praise kink?, pet names sorry not sorry, bathtub sex, use of a shower head, v fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, orgasm delay, pnv (unprotected), riding, semi-realistic? aftercare, caregiver nick, MUSHY SORRY, again nick has a big fat one, don’t think too hard about the logistics ok, 18+ MDNI

a/n; this originally began as a nice short fluffy piece but... alas, the sad and horny demons took hostage 😅 it's just who i am okay 😭 only sad for a bit though! kinda

a/n: don't like it don't read it. don’t be mean for no reason & let others enjoy things thnx :)

You stamped a knee at each side of Nick’s sides, settling yourself in his lap. His hands instinctively found your hips to have something to anchor to.

“Alright babe you gotta cooperate with me, okay?” You giggled, taking his cheeks in your hands.

He blinked up at you with his aqua eyes gleaming, so enamored with you to even care what you were doing in his lap, simply happy that you were there.

You began brushing hair out of his face and gathering it into a low, untethered bun to expose the entirety of his features. He was beautiful, nothing new to you of course, but at times like then, you couldn’t help but be awe-struck of him. He was yours and you were his.

You reached over to the table beside you to pick up some toner and soaking a cotton round with the liquid. You took it to his face, starting at his cheekbones. He hissed at the coldness of it against his warm skin.

“This smells so… chemically, are you sure it’s safe?” He asked as a half-joke and with a slightly nervous chuckle.

“Very sure my love.” A reassuring grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. “You think I would put harmful chemicals on your pretty face?” You swiped the cotton round down his nose and used it to boop the tip.

A barely visible peach coated his cheeks, if you hadn’t been so close to him, you would’ve missed it.

“I don’t know, maybe you wanna scorch my face off so the fans stop liking me.” A playful smirk draped over lips.

You rolled your eyes and squeezed his cheeks between your fingers, tilting his face upwards to meet your gaze. “Oh honey,” You cooed playfully. “The fans would simp over you even if your nose fell off.”

A true laugh rumbled through his chest and tumbled out of his lips. “Yeah, whatever.” He brushed off the statement as if you just told him the sky was green. “What’s next?” He inquired genuinely, letting his eyes drop back to your arsenal on the table.

“Hmm…” You peered over behind you and tapped your fingertips on your chin. “Oh! Yes, I forgot I got this for you!”

Your fingers plucked a small yellow glass vile. You twisted the lid and squeezed the rubber part between two fingers then released it to let the pipette fill completely.

“Let me know if this smell reminds you of anything.” You slowly and carefully slid the tip of the glass pipette across his cheek, disposing serum along the way.

His nostrils flared and restricted in short consecutive spurts trying to let the aroma fill his nose entirely. His brows knitted for just a second as he processed the smell before his eyes grew sparkly and excited. “Banana?” He asked with hesitancy still lining his words, regardless of the indistinguishable scent.

You giggled and love filled your entire chest at his adorable reaction. “I knew you’d love it.” You sighed happily and utterly love drunk.

“Hm, I love you.” He countered, admiring the pointed, concentrated face you wore as you focused on rubbing in the product. “That stuff’s made from bananas?”

“I love you too baby.” You smiled and leaned down to gently grab his face again, this time to bring your lips to his. A smile curled onto his lips against yours, sweetening the kiss. You couldn’t help but mirror the grin and savor the adoration. “Hm, I think banana enzymes or something? I don’t really know.”

You straightened back up in his lap again, using your curled index finger to tilt his chin up and swivel his face from one side to the other analyzing his skin.

“Admiring your work?” He laughed, feeling a little silly and a little insecure from being studied so closely.

“Just trying to see if you have any spots that need a little extra attention.” You hummed. “But surprise, surprise the man that only uses face wash has perfect skin.”

His chest puffed out a little involuntarily, as if you just invigorated him with newfound confidence after being so foolishly insecure. “Well, would you look at that.” He smirked.

“Yeah, yeah.” You waved him off jokingly before reaching to pick up a thin packet from the table. “Still gonna make you do a face mask though.”

He groaned, “No, no not the clay stuff again.” He winced at the memory of the chalky mud you had once put on him that somehow ended up all over his hair…and eyebrows, and ears, and fingernails, and ʘ necklace, and his favorite Paul Rudd Fanclub shirt.

The Great Face Mask Incident of 2023™️

You couldn’t help but laugh at the same memory. “No, no. I would never put you through that again.”

Nick let out a relieved sigh as if he had just gone through some war flashbacks. “Thank god.”

“No, I think you’ll quite like this one.” You pressed your lips together to not give away just excited you were to show him the mask you had in store for him.

You carefully pulled the folded sheet mask from the packet, letting any excess drip back into the pouch before setting it to the side. You then began delicately unfolding the thin fabric of the mask. Nick’s brows knitted together, and his head cocked to the side slightly like a confused puppy as he tried to gather what sort of potential torture device you were preparing for him. Finally, you unveiled the round sheet with the likeness of a cartoon tuxedo cat.

His silver eyes lit up the second he realized. “It’s Jerry!” It melted your heart at just how wide his smile got, all toothy and reaching his eyes.

You giggled and nodded, “It sure looks a lot like him, doesn’t it?”

Once you were able to keep him from wiggling around, you put the mask on, tugging it here and there to get it taut and symmetrical.

“There, now you look just like your son!” You chuckled behind your hand, looking at how adorably ridiculous your boyfriend looked.

He smirked as much as could beneath the mask, “Yeah where do you think he got his good looks from?”

You rolled your eyes and gently smacked his arm but there was no malice behind either action, “At least Jerry has humility.”

He gazed up at you with a small, sweet smile painted on his lips and love coating the soft curves of his features. “Yeah, that he got from you.” He said casually, like it rolled off his tongue without even thinking twice about it.

Your heart swelled so big in your chest that it was threatening to breach your ribcage. Nicholas had Jerry long before you entered the picture but since getting together a little over a year ago, Jerry had become your biggest fan. Since day 1 he followed you around everywhere and if you were resting on any surface, he was there to claim you as his temporary bed. In your time together Nick had never once even joked about you being Jerry’s other fur-parent. It was a small frivolous thing, but you knew the weight it held. You didn’t know if he had just said it without realizing or if he truly meant it, but in your heart, you were choosing to believe the latter. Either way you opted out of making a big deal about it.

“Oh! I almost forgot!” You gasped at your own brain urgently reminding you of a crucial step. You nearly leapt off him and bolted to the kitchen. Within seconds the project at hand was executed and ready for placement.

You scurried back over to him, this time standing behind his seat on the couch. “Alright, close your eyes and tilt your head back.”

“You got it boss.” He teased and did as you asked. It made you wonder just how much he’d cooperate with taking other orders – but that was a daydream for a much different day. “Cucumbers?”

“Somethin’ like that.” You held back a giggle and placed two banana slices over each closed eyelid. “Okay, all done!”

His nose scrunched up towards the objects on his eyes, “Bananas?!”

You finally let out the laugh you’d been holding back and placed a kiss atop his head. “Now you got all your favorite stuff, cats and bananas!” You circled around his seat and climbed into his lap again.

“And you.” He smiled softly while his callused hands instinctively found your hips again.

Your cheeks heated up and your stomach filled with butterflies. No matter how silly he looked, he could always get you to melt in his hands. “Oh, shut up.”

“Remind me why we’re doing this again?” He asked.

Your grin faltered a bit at his question, and you paused to think about your answer. You let your hand fall gently just below his neck, sliding down slowly while your fingers softly laced beneath the silver chain of his necklace. You let the thorny pendant rest on your fingers as you admired it. As much as you hated the calm before the storm and selfishly despised the reason for it, you knew it’s what you signed up for and what brought him the most joy. Your thumb ran over the thorny crown, grateful for the amount of time you’d been able to spend with him during this break. This was maybe your 3rd or 4th run at him leaving for tour and while you could tell that it was getting easier, it was extremely slow progress. It seemed as though each time felt like the first time all over again. Your eyes fluttered closed in a feeble attempt to tame the burning in your eyes and the tears threatening to appear. You took a deep breath and swallowed the lump in your throat knowing that letting him see you like that would not only ruin the moment but make him feel guiltier than he already did, which was exactly the opposite of what the activity meant to accomplish.

“Baby?” He pressed after you’d gone silent for a bit.

You cleared your throat and blinked the tears away, forcing a smile onto your face so that it could be heard in your words. “Sorry love,” You wrapped your hand around the pendant just hard enough that the thorns stabbed into your palm, perhaps hoping that the pain could force the ache away, or maybe in hopes that if you stamped yourself hard enough with him, he could always stay with you. “Just got distracted. What did you ask?”

“I asked why we’re doing this? I feel really silly right now.” He laughed, though a little less bright than before. You hoped that he hadn’t picked up on your energy shift.

“Oh, um,” You looked down and released the hold on his necklace, letting your palms rest on his chest. “Just wanted to pamper you a little, before you have to go work so hard.” You tried your best to keep your voice light, but the sadness in your voice was unmistakable, at least to Nicholas.

His smile fell into a small frown, and it made you wish you had just lied, but you were never much of a good liar, especially not to him. He reached up pulling the banana slices off his eyes and placing them on a paper towel on the table. Somehow, he looked even goofier with the bananas off his eyes.

You suddenly felt flushed under his gaze – regardless of the cat mask still adorning his face. It was unclear whether it was the normal affect he had on you that was making you blush, or rather the vulnerability he’d caught you in.

“Baby,” He let out a sad sigh, “Is that what this is about?” His hands moved up to envelope your hips again, rubbing small comforting circles into the flesh beneath your shirt.

You shook your head vehemently, “No, no, I’m just tryin’ to spoil you honey, you deserve it.” You tried for a smile but couldn’t quite reach.

It was clear in his eyes that he wasn’t buying it. “Oh, let me get this cursed thing off of me.” He said, his hands already going to peel up the edges of the sheet mask but failing miserably.

A grin did pull at your lips watching him struggle and decided to take over. “Here, let me do it.” You laughed, gently swatting his hands away and pulling it off yourself and setting it on the table next to the forgotten bananas. “For someone who’s so good with his fingers, that sure was hard for you, huh?” You teased, attempting to deflect from the seriousness you’d just caused. All you wanted to do was go back to the soft, happy bubble you’d created before.

His inked hand trailed up your body to cup your cheek. “I’m gonna miss you so much, you know that right?”

You rolled your eyes trying your best to hold up your strong exterior, “Yeah, yeah, whatever, we don’t have to do this. We don’t have to talk about it, okay?” It took every bit of energy you had to yank each edge of your lips into a smile.

“Hey, don’t do that.” He frowned. “Maybe I wanna talk about it?”

“But you dooon’t though.” You whined, pressing on his chest slightly. “We were having a good time and I ruined it.” You whispered. Your eyes fluttered down to where your hands met his abdomen, faintly crinkling his faded Slipknot shirt between your fingers.

“Hey.” His hand found your chin and tilted it back up to face him once more. “I’ll be back before you know it.” He reassured the obvious.

“I know.” You mumbled and found your eyes dropping once again, not bearing the strength to look at him for too long. “I know what I signed up for. I know that it’s part of loving you.” Your hand rediscovered his necklace, flipping it between your fingers for comfort.

“Just because it’s part of the deal, doesn’t mean it’s not hard, y/n.” His voice was more firm that time, trying to cement the severity of his words.

“I know.” You groaned, frustrated that he wouldn’t just drop it.

He sighed, “I’m just saying it’s okay to be upset about it. And it’s okay to talk to me about it.” His thumb grazed over your cheekbone, enticing you to look at him. “We’re a team, remember?”

You released a long exhale finally relaxing a bit under his touch. “I know, Nicky, I know. I just didn’t want you to feel guilty and,” Your hand went up to wrap around his wrist and your eyes darted somewhere far away from him. “I didn’t want you to think that I can’t handle it.” Before he could respond your fingers gripped his wrist harder and the burning in your eyes returned. “I can handle it, I can.”

The crack in your voice didn’t go unnoticed by the male and all he wanted to do was scoop you up in his arms, but he knew better than to smother you when you were that emotional. “I know you can baby.” He said gently, using his thumb to wipe away a tear that was on the verge of escape. “I never questioned that. And if I ever do, then we’ll work through it,” He gently tapped the side of his thumb on your cheek to bring your attention back to him. “Together. Okay?”

You nodded against his palm, nuzzling into his touch. “Together.”

“That’s my girl.”  He smiled and pulled you down into a sweet kiss.

You pressed your forehead against his gazing into his eyes, tonight they were particularly grey. “You’re too good to me.” You said so quietly that if he wasn’t nose-to-nose to you, he wouldn’t have heard it.

He shook his head as much as he could without disturbing the moment, “No, I’m not good enough.”

“That’s not tr-“ You began but were quickly interrupted by his lips on yours again.

“Ah, ah.” He hummed once he pulled away, “I won’t be taking any back talk.”

Your cheeks burned bright cherry red that time, no amount of makeup could conceal it. Even though his words were light, you knew he wasn’t joking. Nicholas was an expert at imbedding dominance in featherlight touches and sweet nothings.

“Yes sir.” You replied instinctively.

The energy spiraled between you two had shifted from silly to emotional, to something entirely different now. His hands trailed up your sides beneath your shirt to rest both on your lower back.

“C’mon, you took such good care of me, now it’s your turn.” Without giving you any warning he scooped you up. You squeaked at the sudden action but instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck.

“Where are you taking meeee.”

“Well, we’re having a spa day, aren’t we? What’s a spa day without a bubble bath?”

You melted into him, loving the idea of a warm bath accompanied by him.

Nick began drawing the bath making sure to add all your favorite additives as you stood patiently waiting instruction. Once he was satisfied with the way the tub was filling, he sat on the edge and beckoned you over. “Come here angel.”

Your cheeks flushed with warmth at the name, taking a couple steps to stand between his legs. He began tenderly undressing you until you were completely bare in front of him.

He wasn’t shy with the way his eyes wandered down your body. “God you’re beautiful.” His words riding an infatuated exhale.

The strawberry pink already present on your cheeks only worsened. “Shush.” You wave off his compliment and used your arm to cover your chest.

He stood and took your chin between his index and thumb tilting your gaze up at him. “I won’t ever stop reminding you of how stunning you are.”

You shook your head out of his grasp. “Shut up Nicholas.” You said shyly.

He took your cheek in his grasp instead this time, getting more control of you. “What’s wrong baby? Am I getting you all flustered?”

You were sure your face was beet red now. “C’mon Nicky, stop messin’ around, the bath is getting cold.”

A satisfied smirk tugged one edge of his lips, finding amusement and pride in your blatant embarrassment. “As you wish princess.” He began to undress himself until he was matching your nude attire.

Your eyes did the same as his did earlier and raked down his body, lean and inked on almost every bit of him. You’d been with him for over a year and you still managed to find new tattoos on him that you’d never seen before. His body was a spectacular and endlessly interesting museum only you had the key to.

He didn’t wait for you and stepped over the porcelain into the large oval tub, letting his body sink down into the steaming water. Almost instantly your exquisite museum was engulfed in mountains of bubbles. “Well, you comin’? You were the one complaining about water ‘getting cold’.” He teased.

You rolled your eyes and cautiously dipped your toe into the water. You hissed and recoiled at the scalding temperature. “Fuck that’s hot.”

Nicholas chuckled at your reaction, “Still think it’s getting cold?”

“Shut up.” You mutter.

“Just take it slow baby, let your body get acclimated to the water.” He sounded patient but his eyes didn’t match – the longer you were under his gaze, the more you felt like an animal of prey being stalked.

After a bit of time getting your lower body get used to the water you were finally able to sink down between his legs and rest your back against his chest. A small sigh of relief left your lips at the feeling of soothing comfort with him. No matter the problem or hindrance, Nick always made everything okay. He made you feel safe and taken care of in a way you’d never felt before. Getting that feeling from a rockstar who’s constantly touring wasn’t something you ever imagined possible, but somehow, it was with him. It took a while for him to earn your trust, especially at the very beginning, the first time he toured just a month or two after making things official. But he made sure to prove his faithfulness in a multitude of ways – from sharing his location to sending pictures and videos frequently to even sending you flowers or other small gifts to let you know he was thinking of you. Life with Nicholas wasn’t perfect, but it was a dream.

His fingers first found your shoulders, digging his thumbs into the wound-up tense muscles at the base of your neck.

“Mmm.” You hummed at the sensation and leaned further back against him. “That feels so good baby.”

“Yeah?” He asked, kissing the side of your head.

“Mhm.” Your eyes fluttered shut as you sank a little further into the water.

He spent some time working through the knots in your neck and shoulders. Wherever he pressed his fingertips felt like he was releasing a world of tension.

“That’s it, just relax.” His hands drifted down past your shoulders and onto your sides, using his thumb to rub circles into the muscles of your back - as best he could in your position anyway.

As his hands trailed lower you felt a flutter fill your tummy and settle in your core. You didn’t even realize you were squirming until his hands found and gripped your hips hard. “Stay still.” He ordered quietly just below your ear.

A shiver ran through you at his gravelly voice stealing the air in your throat. You did as he said, as much as you could, and hoped it’d be good enough for him. His fingertips lowered, beginning to run up and down the curves of your hip bones. The close proximity of his fingers to your core was starting to make you dizzy. You sucked in a harsh breath when his hands traveled further down to massage your thighs. His fingers were diligent and determined with their placement and tempo, using his thumb to rub tight circles into the flesh of your upper inner thigh. There’s no way he couldn’t feel you nearly vibrating under his touch, and you had to restrain yourself from grabbing his hand to put him where you needed him the most.

You felt his lips curl into a sinister smile against your neck. “What’s wrong princess?” He asked condescendingly. “Am I not helping you relax?”

“No, no. You are.” You almost stutter out, trying to sound as confident as possible.

“Hm.” He hummed, gliding his fingers up the inner side of your thigh. “I wonder… what you do when you get all wound up like this when I’m away?” There was an edge to his question that erased any indication of genuine curiosity.

Your eyes widened at the question and your mind went fuzzy blank. “Well…I…um.” Was all you could get out, pathetically.

“Oh, c’mon baby.” He lowered himself to just below your ear. “Use your words for me. Tell me what you do.”

Your heart felt like it was colliding against your ribcage incessantly while simultaneously pooling your rampant pulse in your clit. “I-I,” You took a breath in a feeble attempt to steady your breathing. “I touch myself.” You blurted out, knowing it was both the truth and what he wanted to hear.

You didn’t need to look at him to know how wide and proud his smirk was.

“Good girl.” He hummed. “Why don’t you show me where you do that?”

Your eyes widened once again, this time swallowing all the saliva available in your mouth. Hesitantly, you reached out beneath the water and took hold of his wrist, bringing it between your legs. “Here.”

He used his hand to slowly cover and cup your core before carefully running his fingers through you. You wanted to whine at the small sensation but knew how pathetic you’d sound. “Thank you for showing me baby.” He acknowledged your obedience. “But I want you to show me exactly what you do.”

You’d show him anything at that point to keep his fingers on you, so you nodded and covered his hand with your own. You guided him to your clit that was buzzing and begging for his attention. Your middle and ring fingers pressed into his and prompted them to start moving in circular motions.

“Mmm.” He pressed a kiss to your neck before nipping at the skin like a predator taste-tasting his meal. “That feels good doesn’t it?”

Your head lulled itself on his shoulder, already getting lost in the pleasure blooming at his fingertips. “Mhm.” You mumbled with drooping eyelids.

He took control of the movements almost instantly, starting a display of one of his many talents. He let you savor his actions for a bit, knowing that the further gone you were, the more pliable you’d be in his hands. “Is this all you do baby? Or is there somewhere else you touch?” He asked already knowing the answer, just wanting you to say it.

His plan worked, as it always did, and you were nothing but an obedient ragdoll for him now. Every cell in your body wanted to bend to him – he had magic in his touch, you were completely certain of it.

Without any verbal response you just guided his working hand down to your entrance. That’s all the convincing he needed and carefully slipped two fingers into you. He let out a small, low groan the feeling of how tight you were around his fingers. You could feel his already hardening cock throb against your lower back. The sensation of his member against your skin while he was using his fingers to fuck you was bittersweet because now all you wanted was his cock filling you up instead.

“God you’re so fucking tight.” He nearly growled against your throat. “I’m gonna miss burying myself in your pretty cunt.”

You felt like you could disintegrate into thin air from how good you felt – yeah, his fingers working magic was one thing, but his words melted you completely. Being complimented and wanted, no – needed – by him was a high that no orgasm could ever touch.

“I need your cock, Nicky please.” You whined without caring how desperate you sounded. “Please, I need you.”

“Oh bunny, you know better than to rush me.” He tsked before moving to do something you didn’t expect. He kept his one hand fucking his fingers in and out of you rhythmically while curling in ever so slightly but brought the other back down on your throbbing clit.

A gasp left your mouth as he effortlessly used both hands to fuck you in the most delicious way. You had already been close just from his fingers curling right into your sensitive spot but now with his fingers rolling against your nub you were seconds from oblivion.

“Fuck.” You spat out urgently. “Fuck, fuck, I’m close – s-so fucking close.” You whimpered out, squeezing your eyes closed trying to keep from coming undone before you were allowed. “Fuck baby, please let me cum. Please can I cum?”

All he did was hum an “mhm” against your neck before you were seeing stars. Tingles seared across your body and your walls pulsed around his fingers.

“That’s it, cum all over my fingers like the good girl you are.”

The praise only intensified the orgasm, causing your back to arch from him. Your face lulled into the crevice of his neck letting him vividly hear all the noises you were making for him. Nick loved your noises as much as you loved his words – he made a mental note to record you next time so he could have something on the road. He could get off on the sound of you alone.

He gently pulled his fingers from you and slowly tapered his action on your clit, but not completely. He retained an agonizingly slow pace on your now overly sensitive nub. He kept the pace slow enough so it wouldn’t be uncomfortable for long until you started to feel good again.

You felt him reaching beside you for something but were too fucked out to pay attention. “Tell me baby, have you ever used this to help relax?” His voice was buttery smooth like blue suede.

Your brows furrowed above your closed eyelids, wondering what he was referencing. When you blinked your eyes open, they rounded to see him holding the detachable showerhead and was suddenly grateful for the extra-long cord you’d opted for. You shook your head and answered honestly. “No.” You’d always been curious but never actually tried.

Nicholas was an expert at knowing when you were lying so he believed you. “Here.” He tenderly scooped up your hand, cupping it in his own like a spoon. With a flick of his other thumb on the showerhead, a crazed stream of patterned water jutted from it. He brought it to the hand he was holding and let the stream hit your palm. “Is that too strong?” He questioned genuinely wanting to know your comfort level.

As much as the strength of the water inspired some more flurries in your core, you nodded shyly. “Too strong.” It was typical for your responses to become minimal once you entered any level of subspace. Having that amount of trust to even fall into that headspace was a luxury you only ever found with Nick. Trusting him was easier than you’d like to admit, it came as naturally as breathing air into your lungs.

“Okay.” His thumb spun the filter onto another setting. “How about this one?” He questioned even though he figured it would be a no since it was thin streams of water lining an empty tunnel.

That one made you giggle and shake your head since it obviously wouldn’t provide much pressure. Nick smiled at your adorable giggle, filling his chest with so much warmth and love, he had no idea what to do with it all. He pressed a kiss to your head before flipping to another setting.

A perfectly tempered stream danced in your palm – not too strong, not too weak, and the jet pattern was an enticing rhythm. You bit down on your bottom lip and nodded. “Good.”

Nick’s free hand found your tummy, pressing it flat against your stomach and slid down painfully slow between your legs. Your breath caught in your throat at the anticipation of his touch. He tenderly spread your legs further apart before using his fingers to spread your lips apart, baring you open so that the jet stream of water could land precisely where it was needed.

“Now sweetheart,” He began. “You were so good for me. You did as I asked, you used your words, you asked for permission.” He lowered the shower head into the water, and you felt the jet stream hit your thigh. It was stronger than you expected and suddenly both fear and excitement pooled in your core. “I want you to know that this is a reward. This is what good girls get. Do you understand?”

Your cheeks grew warm, and your breath hitched in your throat at his words. Before you had time to properly prepare, the strong pressure of the stream pummeled into your sensitive nub. You let out a loud squeak as intense pleasure coarsed your body and down your limbs.

“Baby. I asked you a question. Do you understand that I’m allowing you to feel this good? That this is a privilege?”

Your hands gripped his thighs at each side of you and nodded your head enthusiastically, “Yes sir, I do.” You barely got your words out past your heavy breathing.

He smiled against your neck, “That’s my girl. My best girl. Now what do you say?”

Your heart flooded with lovey pride and your brain filled with nothing but him. He encompassed your very being, every cell of your composition belonged to him. “Thank you.” Your head fell back on his shoulder as he brought the shower head closer to your cunt, only intensifying the pressure. “Thank you, thank you.” You repeated like a prayer.

“God, I can’t wait to fill that pretty pussy up with my cock.” The end of his words resembled something like a growl.

His evident need for you went straight to your stomach, helping to weave a knot that was ready to snap. You were surprised you’d lasted this long since this was easily one of the best feeling you’d ever felt. Knowing that something as convenient as a shower head held so much power was dangerous, especially now that you associated it directly with him.

The jet propulsion on your clit was deliciously brutal, each wave hitting you harder than the last as your sensitivity increased. Your legs began to tremble from the sheer amount of pleasure building up in your body begging for release. “Nicky.” You heaved out while your fingers dug into his thighs. “I can’t hold it, please.” Your request drenched in utter desperation. “Please let me cum, I need to cum baby please.”

Nicholas hummed at the request, mulling it over in his head. If this were any other day, under any other circumstances, he’d string out your orgasm as far as he wanted, but it was a day of relaxation after all.

“Go ahead,” He whispered, bringing the shower head just a tiny bit closer to nudge you over the edge. “Cum for me, will you? And don’t fight it okay? I wanna hear you.”

And with that, another orgasm blinded you, this one ripping through you more violently than the last. Your entire body was in sparking, euphoric bliss. Curses, screams and moans poured from your throat, all laced with his name.

“Oh, that’s it princess, let it all out for me.”

And you did just that. He kept the stream on your bud through your high and somewhere between his grainy voice talking you through and your overstimulation, another wave of pleasure washed over you. Your throat grew sore from your incessant noises that now probably sounded like gibberish sprinkled with his name.

He slowly drew the metal shower head away from your core to carefully lull you from your high. You were nothing but a heaving, shakey, fucked out mess in his grasp.

“Good job baby.” He pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “You did so good for me.”

A lazy smile spread across your lips and nodded slightly. His warmth was the only thing tethering you to reality.

He let you recover from your orgasms before moving on. His hands found your hips once more and pressed you against him. You felt his own arousal thick and hard against your lower back and it reminded you of the ache between your legs that only he could fill.

“You wanna turn around for me baby?”

While you felt like utter mush in his hands, his offer sparked the potential of having him inside you, and that was something you didn’t plan to pass up on. You nodded and shifted around in the water, letting the liquid slosh around tub even spilling out a bit unintentionally. “Oops.” You giggled.

“Hi angel.” He says softly with a crooked smile painted across his lips the second his eyes meet yours. Sure, he held the reigns in the bedroom and most other areas of your relationship, but it was no secret that you were the one with complete control over him. You made him weak in ways he never imagined being, he would give you anything you wanted if you just batted your lashes at him. He was putty in your hands, and he loved it.

He looked so beautiful, and you suddenly felt scammed knowing that you had your back to him looking like that the whole time. His raven hair had fallen from the makeshift bun from the couch and was now splayed over his shoulders, the ends now damp and pointy. You couldn’t wait one more second without his lips on yours, so you scooped up his face in both hands and met his lips with yours. You broke the kiss to press your forehead against his, wanting to engulf yourself fully in his stormy eyes. “I love you.” You whispered.

“I love you too.” He replied matching your whisper. His hands found your hips again, pulling you towards him – not out of desire to intensify the moment, but simply to have you closer. “God, I love you more than anything.”

Peachy pink dusted your cheeks and the smile that his words brought to your lips was embarrassingly wide. You shied away from him and shook your head, “You’re being silly.” Out of all the grand things in his life, you were sure that you were the least exciting or interesting part.

His hand trailed warm water up your arm to pick up your chin, “I’d never joke about that.” His thumb grazed over your cheekbone, cupping your cheek. “I’m so grateful for the patience you’ve given me, given us. You might be the best thing to ever stumble into my life.”

Every atom in your body begged to mesh with him. It only took one exchanged look between you two for your bodies to rearrange so you could sit on his lap. Your lips collided, followed by a messy display of clashing teeth and hungry tongues. Your passion was fueled only by the blind love you had for him and your desire to prove that his love for you was warranted. Your fingers tangled into the base of his dark hair, tugging at it slightly needing every bit of him entwined with your very molecules. He kept one hand on your hip while the other held tangled in your own wet hair.

As much as you wanted to keep telling him how much you loved him, you couldn’t bear to break away from him even for a second. If you couldn’t tell him, you’d show him.

You rutted your hips up his thighs until you felt the base of his member rest against your bare cunt. He let a groan out into the kiss at the feeling of you against him. One of your hands fell from his hair to his length, your fingers instinctually molded around the silky soft flesh. It never ceased to impress you at just how big he was and no matter how many times you’d had him it never eased the ache of taking him.

His sizeable cock was decorated with bulging veins from the blood that coursed through him. Even though your fingers had grown to be expertly familiar with his anatomy, you still loved exploring him, tracing each vein with your fingertips. This earned you another grunt from somewhere deep in his chest and you pridefully smiled against the kiss.

You finally gave him what you knew he wanted, wrapping a hand around this girth and began palming him slowly. His member had a delicious upward curve to it that helped to reach the deepest and most sensitive part of you. Your mouth was watering at just the feeling of him in your hand – in that moment you could’ve sworn that you would do absolutely anything to have it inside you. It was not a want, but a carnal need.

He finally had enough and pulled from the kiss, “Baby, please.” He breathed out against your lips, his love drunk eyes heavy with lust as he looked up at you. “I need your pussy.” His chest rose and fell in time with yours, needing you just as badly as you needed him.

You nodded quickly against him before lifting yourself up enough to hover over him. Regardless of how much you wanted it, you still had to mentally prepare yourself for the initial pain. Nick helped align himself with your entrance while keeping a supportive hand on your hip bone. You exhaled a deep breath.

Sensing your hesitation, he gave your hip a small squeeze, “You can take it baby, just go nice and slow. We have all the time in the world.” He reassured you, letting you set the pace.

You nodded and carefully began to sink down on him. A hiss escaped your mouth at the way his width stretched you open. Your hand fell to his shoulder for support as you struggled to pull yourself further down.

Nicholas’ eyes couldn’t soak you up enough, he was mesmerized at the sight of you. He wished he could burn it into his brain. “God, you look so fucking pretty taking my cock.”

His compliment only made you more determined to push past the pain and discomfort. When you felt your cervix land on his tip you knew that was as far as you could take him. While you couldn’t reach his base fully, you were still surprised and proud of yourself for being able to take so much of him in that position.

He let out a low groan at the feeling of your cunt tightly enveloping his cock. “You feel so fucking good.”

You expelled a breath then swirled your hips with him still deep inside you. The goal was to adjust to his size before riding him. The stretch burned but you knew it’d sweeten once you started moving.

The way he gazed up at you made you weak and your body gave into him, falling into the crook of his neck. You began placing open mouth kisses on his tattooed throat while your hips started swiveling on him. Light, airy moans tumbled from you lips and onto his neck. His hands gripped your hips tighter, letting out a grunt from somewhere deep in his chest.

“Fuck,” He groaned, letting his head fall back into the ledge of the tub. “I need you to move baby, I need more.”

You nodded quickly, needing it just as badly. Your hands slipped off him to stabilize yourself on the porcelain ledge. It gave you enough balance to raise your hips up almost fully, before dropping them where he filled you the fullest.

“That’s it, you’re doing so good.” He groaned out, his eyes droopy and drunken by only his love for you.

The praise helped motivate you to keep going even though the stretch burned. But you got to control the pace and the depth you could handle – although part of you wished he did have control so that he would forego any hindrances and use you up fully.

You gained momentum on him, bouncing up and down on his cock. Water splashed everywhere, over the ledge and all over the floor but that was the furthest thing on your mind. The room was filled with moans, grunts and cursed from both of you. You felt the knot beginning to form in your tummy as did he. But his surprises weren’t done yet.

He reached over to where he’d placed the shower head, easily flipping it on to the previous setting. Your eyes rounded as he began to lower it towards the water and you shook your head vigorously. “No, no, no.” You cried. “I won’t last, please, no.”

His other hand drifted down your spine with a feather light touch. “Well, that’s the point sweetheart.” He hummed. “Don’t you wanna cum again for me baby?” He questioned patronizingly. You knew that tone and you knew it meant it wouldn’t be as easy as he was eluding.

He continued his actions and aimed the powerful stream of water directly at your clit. A jolt of pure electricity zipped up your spine and down your thighs. Your entire body shuddered at the sudden and intense sensation. Your fingertips curled into his skin, surely branding claw marks into his flesh. “God, fuck.” You exclaimed loudly, barely able to move.

“Now, baby, remember that cumming is a privilege remember? I could very well leave you all worked up with your pretty pussy clenching around nothing if you misbehave.” He warned. “Do you understand?”

You nodded quickly, slipping your tongue between your lips. But that of course wasn’t enough for him.

His hand tightened on your hip and brought the shower head a bit closer to heighten the sensation. “I believe I asked you a question darling.” His voice deep and raspier than normal. “Do you understand? You know I need to hear it.”

“Yes,” You shuddered out. “Yes, sir. I understand.” You couldn’t seem to catch your breath, the air in your lungs completely vacant. Your heart thumped so hard against your ribcage you thought it might shatter and burst in front of him and splinter his own chest.

“Good girl.” He praised. “Now, I don’t remember telling you that you could stop moving.”

You whined in near agony, squeezing your eyes shut and slowly beginning your movements again. “Fuck.” You lulled your head back, buzzing pleasure spreading through every bit of you.

“Faster.” He commanded. “Or I’m gonna make this very unpleasant for you.”

His sweetness was long gone and replaced by the Nick you had grown very familiar with. You’d never guess by his normal relaxed and reserved demeanor that he’d have this overwhelming dominance in bed, but you loved it. It was as though something in him would take over, like he’d try to fight it to stay sweet and romantic, but it rarely lost the fight. It was thrilling to watch his internal battle; you’d seen it so often that you had memorized the shift in his eyes and subtle change in his cadence.

You rarely chose to challenge his threats and today was no different, So, you began lifting and dropping your hips against his lap, taking in fully – or as much as you could anyway. His free hand slithered up your side to cup your breast, kneading the plump flesh in his grasp. His stare couldn’t seem to stay on any solid one part of you, darting from your tits bouncing as you moved, to your face contorting with the overwhelming pleasures you were experiencing, to down where you were connecting with him. He looked at you the way people look at monuments or ancient architecture. He didn’t care about a single other wonder in the world because he was convinced you were the only one in existence. You were an art museum to him, every single installation he could study for hours and never grow bored of your beauty and the delicate nature of your soul. He was utterly infatuated with and devoted to you.

It became difficult to continue riding him without getting sloppy from another orgasm building quickly in your stomach. Your clit was buzzing and threatening to tip you over the edge at any moment. The way he filled you up only made it worse – being full of him made the time without him even more empty. You’d never had someone fill you up so much, he made it hard to even clench around him. It was an incredible experience and one that would make having anyone else subpar. He had set the bar so high that it made it impossible for anyone else to measure up to him. If he ever decided he’d had enough of you, you’d spend the rest of your days seeking bits of him in anyone you ever let touch you. He’d certainly haunt you worse than phantom ever could.

Thankfully, from the way his cock throbbed and bounced inside you, told you that he was getting close too. Your heart thumped so hard in your throat that you questioned if you’d even be able to speak.

“I-I’m close.” You whimpered out. “Can I cum?”

He tsked at the request. “Now baby, I taught you better that. You’re forgetting my favorite word. Try again.”

Your palms dug into his chest at his rebuttal. “Fuck.” You closed your eyes attempting to stave off your orgasm. “Fuck, please.” You begged. “God, fuck, please, I need to cum. Please can I cum?”

“Hm.” He feigned a thought. “No, not yet. Hold it.”

You shook your head vigorously, “No, no, no, please I can’t. I won’t make it, I’m so close. I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop it.”

“You can and you will.” He said simply. “And if you don’t, you don’t wanna know how much you’ll regret it.”

His face was serious, but you could tell that the excitement was growing in his belly too. You swore that he thrived over your desperation, he loved seeing you squirm and bringing to the edge of your limits. It was sadistic the way he was fueled by your anguish. You don’t know if you’d ever admit it, but you enjoyed being commanded and used like a plaything. Being at his mercy was a thrill you loved chasing, especially knowing he’d always catch you.

You scrunched your eyes closed and bore down on your teeth holding on to the tattered thread left holding you on to your sanity. “Fuck.” You breathed out. It was almost painful how your sensitive nub throbbed beneath the powerful stream of water and how tight the knot in your tummy had grown. His tip assaulting your cervix intensified everything and overbearing pleasure was looming merely seconds way from shattering your resolve. “Fuck, fuck.” You whined. “Fuck, please, please let me cum, I need it so bad. Please I don’t want to disobey you but I’m so close, I need to cum, please – fuck, I can’t hold it, fuck fuck, please can I cum?” Your pathetic groveling was a pitiful display, but it was one that Nicholas could barely handle himself. He could get off from the hymns of your desperation alone.

“Fuck I love when you sound like that.” He groaned. “Fine baby, cum all over my fucking cock.” If he hadn’t been so close himself, he surely would’ve stretched out the torture.

As if you needed anymore help, he brought the shower head even closer. The heightened sensation instantly blinded you, causing your entire body shudder as sparking euphoria bloomed from your core. This orgasm was more powerful than the others due to the delayed pleasure and his length hitting your sensitive spot directly. The moans and curses that left your mouth were vulgar and smeared with the unholy devotion you had for him. Every cell in your body belonged to him just as he demanded it.

Your walls tightly clenching around him was his tipping point. “God, you look so fucking good with my cock so deep inside you.” He growled, gripping your hip hard enough to leave bruises behind. “Fuck baby you’re gonna make me cum.”

You were too lost in your own bliss to really hear what he said until you felt his length twitch inside you followed by his warm seed filling your core. If you weren’t so overspent, the feeling alone could’ve sent you into another orgasm – but seeing as you were still working through your own, you weren’t that concerned about it.

As you both came floating down from your highs, he flipped off the shower head and set it to the side ledge. You had fallen on his chest while your heaving chests rose and fell in time with each other’s. His fingertips raked through the slightly damp hair of your scalp. You purred and smiled at the affection gesture.

He grinned at the reaction, “I love you.” His buttery words fell from his lips in a tone just above a whisper.

Nick would never admit it, but he was extremely talented at almost anything he ever picked up. If he gave it a good honest try, it wouldn’t take long for it to become second nature. He never imagined that there would be anything in the world that would come easier than a graphite pencil or tattoo gun or almost any instrument he picked up. He knew his tattoo gun and his favorite guitar like the back of his hand and while he’d never fully believe it, he already knew you that way too. As with everything else, just because he was a master-of-all didn’t mean there were never any bumps or challenges or hardships – pencils snap, tattoo guns malfunction, and sometimes strings don’t want to tune just how you want them - above all else, Nicholas knew that the most. He knew the best things in life were never easy, but that never stopped him before and it certainly wasn’t going to stop him now.

“I love you too.” You muttered sleepily into the crook of his neck.

The satisfaction of inking a particularly difficult design or mastering a challenging new riff could never compare to the feeling he got from hearing you say those words.

“C’mon, let’s get you dry and warm.” He gently patted your hip and you nodded, using every bit of strength in your body to sit yourself upright.

Nicholas was incredible in his element. It’s one thing to be able to take control sexually, but it’s a whole other thing to be able take gentle control outside of that – and he did, effortlessly. He carefully pulled you off him and got you standing on your feet. He only allowed the air conditioning to dance on your skin for a millisecond before he wrapped a big fluffy towel around you. You tugged the terrycloth fabric so tight against your skin that you were sure you’d have imprints of the threads embedding into your skin. When you lifted your leg over the porcelain, you felt the familiar ache between your thighs that always came from loving him. It wasn’t the worst you’d felt, since you had set the pace, but the water supplied no lubrication, and you were definitely feeling the repercussions.

Nick wrapped a towel around his waist and unplugged the bath drain. When he finally made his way back over to you. When you were both barefoot it really emphasized just how much he actually towered over you. The water droplets glistening across his tan, inked skin made him look like a work of art. Your eyes traced his collarbones and landed on the thorny pendent you were fidgeting with before.

“Oh yeah, before I forget.” You didn’t realize what he was doing until he pulled the necklace from neck and gently draped it over your head. It landed way longer on your chest but it didn’t matter. Your fingers found the pendent and immediately rubbed it for comfort.

“I can’t take this.” You claimed, but the smile that had already made home on your face said otherwise.

He smiled and took your jaw into one hand and placed his other hand over yours covering the necklace. “I’ll always be with you now. If you miss me or get anxious just squeeze it, and I’ll be right there with you. Okay?”

Tears burned your eyes, but you were determined to keep it together, the last thing you wanted to do was cry in front of him naked and shivering. You nodded quickly, “Thank you.” You whispered, hiding a sniffle.

“You’re welcome baby.” He said and placed a quick kiss to your forehead.

He gently grasped your shoulders giving them a little rub to warm you up before guiding you back into the bedroom. The edges of his lips dipped into a frown the second he noticed your limping.

“Oh baby, did I hurt you? I knew we should’ve gotten out of the bath-” He always began to panic ramble if he thought he might’ve hurt you or not taken care of you properly.

You giggled at his worrisome nature and placed a finger over his lips. “It’s okay, really.” You reassured and watched his anxiety disappear. “But it does hurt.” Your lips pulled together in a pout. “Fix it?”

A small smile pulled across his lips and he nodded knowing exactly what that meant.

The time after with Nicholas somehow always felt more intimate. He was driven to love you the best way he knew how, and you relished in the safety he wrapped you in. No matter how rough he got in bed, afterwards he always handled you like a freshly plucked gardenia. He was convinced that if he even grabbed you the wrong way you’d crumble. But he loved it, he was sure that if he was put on this earth to do one thing, it was to take care of you.

After applying some numbing cream where you ached the most and getting you into some fresh pajamas, you were finally exactly where you wanted to be. You were tucked right into Nick’s side, cozy under the covers, sharing a pint of pistachio ice cream while watching reruns of your favorite mutual comfort show.

You looked up at him when he laughed at something silly in the show and the glow from the tv illuminated his features beautifully through the darkness. In that moment, he gave you every bit of reassurance you needed to handle him being gone. You were his and he was yours, and as long as you loved him, he’s always come home to you if you let him.

He glanced down at you, catching you in your admiring stare. The edges of his lips pulled taut into a wide, toothy smile.

“Bob’s Burgers is over there you know.” He teased, tilting his head across the room.

You giggled and burrowed your face into his chest. “You’re much more entertaining.”

He chuckled in disbelief, “Am I?”

“Mhm.” You hummed, getting sleepy the second your head touched his chest.

He laughed softly and precariously plucking the empty pint of pistachio from your dozing grasp to put on the bedside table. He pulled you closer to him and tugged the fluffy duvet higher to cover you both.

Before you let sleep envelope you, you felt his fingers tenderly massaging your scalp. “I love you.” He whispered.

“I love you too, Nicholas.” You hummed back lovingly, nuzzling into his chest.

Taglist; @neverknoah @lma1986 @baddestomens @deathblacksmoke @philomenie @blacksoul-27 @thcfountain

A/N; Thank you so much for reading, i hope you liked it, lmk if you did<3

[ohitsjustgen]

Miles G Morales (42) x Reader

Inspired by a photo on Pinterest

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"Boy if you don't stop moving I swear."

Currently it was a Friday night 7 P.M to be exact and Miles needed his hair re-braided. Usually he would ask Mrs. Morales, but she was currently doing overtime at the hospital so it was up to you to do it. However there is just one tiny little problem..miles is VERY tender headed and he would NOT sit still if his life depended on it.

You held the rat-tailed comb to his scalp again attempting to part it into two sections. But not surprised, he moved at the slight movement.

"Ughh milesss" you groan, rubbing your eyes with your palms.

"Ok ok I'm sorry, I'll sit still this time I promise" he says trying to be reasurring

"You said that 4 times already"

There was a small chuckle escaping his lips.

"Oh so you think this is funny? If you move one more time there will be no hugs, kisses or cuddles for a week" you say sternly knowing good and well you don't mean it.

You place gel in between the crooked part and brush it out, slicking it down in the process. Then you continue to braid his hair taking three strands in between your fingers. He flinches every now and then but not as extreme as before. Once you finish the braid you give the boy a hand held mirror to look at it.

"How does it look?" You ask tying a rubber band on the end of the braid to hold it in place.

"Looks better than what my unc did" Letting a hefty laugh escape his lips he hands the mirror back.

"Before you do the other side, can we stretch?" He says craning his neck to look back at you. Almost giving you a begging expression.

You roll your eyes "fine" you say putting down the hair products you were holding.

He gets up from his criss crossed position on the floor and stretches his arms and legs.

"Do you want anything from the kitchen?" He asks letting his back pop from his stretches.

"Just a water please" you request while grabbing your phone to play your Spotify playlist.

"Gotchu"

The boy comes back shortly after holding two room temperature waters in both hands, a bag of (Your favorite chips) in his mouth and a bag of Cheetos in the crevas of his arm. While sitting down he gives you your requested items and you begin to work on his head again.

"Die for you" by The Weeknd begins to play and the reflective moonlight begins to shine throughout the room.

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A/N: I love this sm 🗿

[theambitiouswoman]

Hormone disrupters are chemicals 🧪 that interfere with your body’s endocrine system, which regulates hormones. They can be found in a lot of every day products like:

Plastic bottles and food containers

Pesticides in agriculture

Cleaning supplies

Chemicals used for clothing

Personal care products like lotions, shampoos & makeup

❌ These are hormone disrupters found in common every day products that you should stay away from ❌

- Bisphenol A (BPA) (plastics and can liners)

- Phthalates (personal care products, fragrances, flexible plastics)

- Parabens (makeup & personal care products)

- Triclosan (antibacterial soaps and cleaning products)

- Polychlorinated Biphenyls (older electrical equipment and industrial products)

- Flame Retardants (furniture, textiles, electronics)

- Pesticides (agriculture)

- Perfluorinated Chemicals (stain resistant treatments, non-stick cookware)

- Dioxins (industrial processes, combustion byproducts)

- Lead (older paints, pipes)

- Dye chemicals (textiles and clothing)

- Water repellents (outdoor clothing, upholstery)

- Stain repellents (carpets, fabrics)

- Formaldehyde (wrinkle free and anti-shrink treatments for fabric)

- Mercury (fish, some thermometers, dental amalgams)

- Cadmium (batteries, some fertilizers)

- Atrazine (herbicides)

- Glyphosate (weed killers)

- Perchlorate (rocket fuel, fireworks, fertilizers)

- Arsenic (contaminated water, pesticides)

- Styrene (plastics, rubber, insulation materials)

- Phosphates (detergents, fertilizers)

- Nonylphenol ethoxylates (industrial detergents, cleaners)

- Organotins (PVC plastics, marine antifouling paints)

- Benzophenone (sunscreens, plastics)

- Octinoxate (sunscreens, makeup)

- 4 Methylbenzylidene camphor (sunscreens, makeup)

‼️ Exposure to these can lead to health issues like reproductive problems, developmental issues and cancer.

🌿 Needless to say, that in order to protect our hormones 🫶 it’s important to recognize these risks and take measures to reduce our exposure them.

[calliemity]

Orin Scrivello's Lost Head Prop: A Masterpost

Written and researched by Calliope Avery

Content Warning: Very very mild and low quality special effects gore, implied violence, uncanny valley stuff(?), Orin Scrivello's face.

Little Shop of Horrors (1986) has an unfortunate reputation of leaving a lot of really cool things on the cutting room floor. The most infamous would be the movie's original ending, a beautiful and impressive sequence of puppetry that ended up completely scrapped. However, today we're talking about a prop that never made it into the final movie in any form:

Orin Scrivello's Decapitated Head!!!

Pictured above are the only 2 photos of the prop in its original state that I can find at the moment. The left photo was taken for promotion and advertising purposes, and the right image is actually a Topps trading card! (Which I have a physical copy of, hehe!)

To put it bluntly, I am slightly (very) obsessed with this prop head. There's so much mystery around it, and everything I've managed to dig up both fascinates me and makes me very upset. So much thought and hard creative work was put into the creation of this thing, and it was left completely left out and forgotten! I desperately want more people to be aware of this, so here is my big and (hopefully) well organized masterpost on everything for your learning pleasure. Alright, let's talk about some heads!!!!!!!!!

Forming a Timeline

The earliest mention of the head can be found in an early draft of the movie script, dated February 14th, 1985. There's plenty of concepts in this script that never seemed to get past this draft, but the severed head concept was not one of them. Here, take a look!

source

This section, found on page 66 of the script, not only established the existence of the head, but also establishes the facial expression it will later take on! Clearly, this concept was good enough to be held onto once actual production started, which is good for us! If it wasn't, then this post would be a lot shorter.

Early production of the prop began after the actors were cast, as face molds of Steve Martin were created as bases for the head.

source for the left image - source for the right image

Oooo, check these guys out!!! The left one is made of plaster, and the right one is made of rubber. The website sourcing these images included a quote from Steve Martin about the casting process. Here's the full provided quote:

"These molds were taken of my head for Little Shop of Horrors. It was cast on the lot at Pinewood Studios outside of London, and I got exceedingly claustrophobic during the casting. My entire head was covered with plaster and two straws were placed in my nose for breathing. Argh." - Steve Martin

I unfortunately don't have much information about the crafting process of the prop. I'm currently trying to track down anyone who could've worked on it, but the few people I've managed to contact haven't responded to me yet. So I can't say anything concrete about who worked on it and what went into creating it. The only thing I can assume somewhat confidently is that the creation of the prop happened around the same time as filming for Orin's scenes. It would allow them to make the face molds and also match up Martin's post-mortem Orin face with the facial expression of the prop.

Here's where it starts going downhill. From what I've found, the prop was never filmed with its face toward the camera. In the workprint that I accessed from the Internet Archive, the prop appears for 2 shots, and both of them only show the back of the head. Take a look:

source - timestamp: 1:02:59

[Video description: a low quality, slightly green tinted video depicting a deleted scene from Little Shop of Horrors (1986) where Seymour is feeding the decapitated head of the dentist, Orin Scrivello, to the plant. The video starts with a man in glasses reaching into a garbage can and pulling out a dark-haired decapitated head, holding it upside-down by the fabric on its neck. The head is faced away from the camera, so only the back of its hair is visible. There are vines flailing in the foreground of the shot. The video cuts to a shot of the plant puppet laughing silently. The video cuts again to a shot of the man slowly shuffling forward while dangling the head in front and away from himself. The plant is seen on the left side, still laughing and flailing its vines. Throughout the video, there are brief flashes of light that resemble lightning. The video's audio only consists of thunder noises and an unidentifiable sound that resembles chewing noises. End ID.]

My best guess for this choice is maybe it isn't as convincing when filmed? In the photos it looks really well made and realistic, but perhaps it didn't come across that way during shots. Regardless, the head was still in the film at this point, so that counts for something!

But as you and I both know, those 2 shots were left on the cutting room floor, completely removed from the final product. The prop was left completely unused and unspoken of... except for one instance.

Remember the trading card I mentioned at the beginning? It's a part of a full set of trading cards that were made and distributed by the brand Topps. Back when the movie first came out, you could buy a pack of 5 mystery Little Shop of Horrors themed trading cards, along with a stick of bubblegum. This 44-card set is notable for featuring a lot, and I mean a LOT of images from cut movie scenes. There's photos of the original ending, there's photos from the cut sequence The Meek Shall Inhereit, and of course there's also the card featuring the prop head! However, those 2 sequences would later be rediscovered, cleaned up, and then added into the Director's Cut rerelease of the movie. The prop head wouldn't get this treatment, staying obscured, unknown, and unmentioned.

Fast forward about 30 years. A certain unused movie prop would be offered in an auction, allowing us to not only see high-quality photos of said prop in its current state, but also to allow us to know the exact materials it was made of! Without further ado, I present Orin Scrivello's decapitated head, circa 2018:

source

This absolute freak of a guy was up for auction at the "Profiles in History: Icons and Legends of Hollywood" auction on June 5th, 2018. No one ended up buying it (I would. I need to buy it actually. Please sell it to me.), but the auction gives us some absolutely divine information about the prop, such as what it's made of and its dimensions! Here's a quote from the auction website describing its materials:

"Vintage original hollow cast resin character head painted in realistic flesh tones with brown eyebrows and eyes. The 13 x 8 x 9 in. head has been polyfoam filled for stability. Exhibiting cracks to the crown, which is brittle and with other wear and age. A striking likeness of Steve Martin. In vintage good condition."

How neat! The high-resolution images allow us to see the detailed sculpting of the prop, which is still evident and impressive with its age and missing parts! The creases on the forehead, and around the mouth and eyes, the realistically colored teeth, this was clearly sculpted with a lot of attention to detail. I would've loved to have an image like this back in the prop's prime, back when it still had hair and a fresh coat of paint.

Why was it Scrapped?

This is entirely just me theorizing, but I have a feeling it's for the same reason the original ending got snubbed.

If you take the time to watch the archived workprint, you'll find a lot of cuts and changes were made that changed the tone of the whole finished project. Orin's death and dismemberment scenes got edited down a lot. Shots of him struggling and knocking things down as he falls to the ground got cut, the voiceline where he begs Seymour for help is gone. The shot where Orin's legs jolt when Seymour brings down the axe is gone too.

It's not just Orin-related scenes either! Mushnik no longer cries out for Seymour when being killed and eaten, and that's ignoring how different the scene happens in the stage musical. And obviously, the entire ending got changed so that Audrey and Seymour survive, leading to the cut of the magnificent ending sequence where all the Audrey II's destroy New York. In a way, the film got murdered and gutted of any of its real horror, with attempts to cover up any of the blood they couldn't scrub out.

In the movie's later quest to rebrand as a softer version of itself, it only makes sense that 2 shots of a decapitated head wouldn't make it. The appearance of the dismembered leg made it through, probably because it's less gruesome, but a head is... different. I obviously think it should've been kept it in, along with almost everything they trimmed from the workprint, but alas.

Tldr, they cut the head off of the movie because it wasn't funny enough.

Conclusion

This is where the information I have ends, unfortunately. I do have more research routes I would like to take, but one of them involves desperately contacting random people who I suspect could've been involved (I've tried this, I've gotten no responses from those who I've managed to find an email for), and the other route involves taking a road trip to the actual goddamn Library of Congress, which is not something I can do right now or even in the near future. So this is probably as far as I'm getting!

However! If I find anything new, this post will be updated and/or remade again, depending on how big or little the info is. For now, I think this is good enough to share, and maybe letting people know will encourage others to research this prop as well! It'll probably be easier if it's not just me, y'know.

I'll finish by saying that I think research and preservation of art like this is very important. While it's common for cool artistic things to end up cut from movies, I think preserving that those cool things existed in the first place is something worth doing. Even though this prop head was a very small part of the movie, it's clear a lot went into creating it! I feel bad that I'm not able to credit any person or people for their work, but I hope getting the word out about it will do some justice.

If you've read this whole thing, thank you so much! I appreciate your interest and I thank you for taking the time to read all this. I hope you found it as interesting and fascinating as I do!

Oh, by the way, if this post looks familiar at all, you've probably seen the original version of this post I made awhile ago. I wasn't happy with the formatting of that post, and I ended up making too many discoveries to just continue updating it. I'll keep the original up to preserve it, but reblogs will be off for it, as I want this version to be the one to go around. Thanks!

[kinglivv]

One Bed

Kate Lethbridge-Stewart x Reader

Summary: Being Kate Stewart’s personal protection was a job full of challenges - aliens, monsters, the supernatural. But none as big as finding yourself in a hotel with her… and only one bed.

Warnings: Implied PTSD

A/N: Realised I’ve never done this trope so rectified that immediately! Also, first time writing for Kate - what do you think?

You couldn’t believe it.

It was classic. You couldn’t write it. One bed, one room, you and Katherine fucking Lethbridge-Stewart.

It was a work trip. Travelling out to Belarus to look at some potential satellite launch sites. UNIT was still regrouping after it’s recent Brexit dissolution, and your commander was desperate to begin scraping back that hard power. Seemingly pointless trips like these had become the norm in the absence of anything existential such as the Flux.

The trip had been last minute. You knew you were going to share a room with Kate - a product of budget cuts and a HQ concerned that as her protection detail in a hostile country, the room next door wasn’t close enough. The hotel however, had apparently royally screwed up by giving you a double instead of a twin.

“Right,” Kate said in a matter of fact tone. You both stand in the doorway, suitcases in hand, clutching yours like a rubber ring on a sinking ship. It feels like a dangerous threshold between sensibility - your job, your boss, your professional relationship - and something else unwritten.

“There’s obviously been a mix up,” she states.

“Yeah,” you clear your throat, “I’ll go down to reception, get it sorted?”

She looks at you. Her hand clasps and unclasps her suitcase handle.

“You could… But I mean, it’s fine. Right?” She says, “It’s the middle of the night, we’ve just been travelling 12 hours. If you’re not bothered, I’m not.”

You take a breath. She had a point. It wasn’t a big deal - two grown adults just sharing a bed on a business trip.

“Alright ma’am,” you agree, “it’s only one night either way.”

“Great,” she musters, and powers on into the room.

It is alright, you tell yourself. It was just Kate. Your boss. It wasn’t like you weren’t used to being glued to her side. That was what you were paid for - her personal protection. You were one of her “strays” as the office called it. One of her impulsive job offers. You’d been a mere police officer in the right place at the right time, when in the middle of an alien incursion, you’d knocked her out the way of a deadly bullet, almost getting hit in the process. She’d quickly made it her business to know everything of use about you; did you go to the gym a lot? How many languages did you speak? Were you satisfied with your job?

Upon finding you had the reflexes of a cat and couldn’t stand the police, you were hired.

You’d been by her side ever since. Everyday in the office, the occasional night shift, the odd weekend at her house in the country. It was fairly mundane work, lurking in the shadows and watching her every step, but you’d quickly learned that there wasn’t much downside to being paid to stare at Kate Stewart all day.

Back in the present, you find that co-existing with her in such close quarters is fairly uneventful. She takes a couple calls, does her emails. She showers and changes into checkered pyjamas. She asks after your dog and you ask after her kids. You go over the car’s planned route for tomorrow and at 11 o’clock it’s lights out. You curl up as close to the edge of the bed as you can get and try to ignore the smell of her fruity shampoo.

You wake to the sound of a muffled groan.

It’s pitch dark and hot. At first you jump, forgetting that you’re in a shared bed and you feel like duvet shift slightly. Then again - a groan. Followed by mumbles - scared mumbles.

You sit up to look at Kate. She’s a dark silhouette, but you can make out her tossing against the sheets. She’s having a nightmare, you realise.

Roll over, a part of you thinks. Spare her the embarrassment. But it’s difficult to listen to. Your heart twinges for her as her brow furrows in anxiety over imagined monsters.

You were her protection - it was your job to protect her.

“Commander,” you whisper gently, reaching out for her shoulder, and then more firmly, “Commander!”

Brown eyes snap open as she’s wrenched out of her nightmare and back into reality. She all but jumps away from you, narrowly avoiding falling out of the bed.

“You were having a nightmare,” you pull your hand away as she frantically wipes away tears and catches her breath.

“Sorry,” she mumbles.

“It’s okay,” you respond softly, “I get them too. More often than I’d like to admit.”

“I - um. Sorry,” she repeats, shifting to prop herself up against the pillows, and it’s only then that you realise how close you are and how wildly inappropriate this is, “I woke you didn’t I?”

“It’s alright,” you say firmly, “Can I… ask what it was? I don’t know - sometimes it helps me when I get them. To talk.”

“Oh,” she says dismissively, “just… you know. Sutekh stuff. The usual really.”

Your face falls. You felt a lot of guilt about that day. Seeing your death approaching and being able to do nothing about it. Watching her crumble to dust seconds before you did. You had failed her in that moment.

“Kate-“ you try to say but it chokes in your throat slightly. “I never apologised for that day.”

She frowns at you through the dark. “What do you mean?”

“I didn’t do my job properly that day,” you state, as if it’s obvious. “I should have been quicker. Done something. You died - as your assigned protection I literally can’t have cocked it up any moreso.”

“Cocked it up?” She repeats with a sort of sad myrth. “Darling, a god of death appeared in our office. The bloody Doctor couldn’t prevent it and you certainly couldn’t have done anything. You died seconds later, I seem to recall learning.”

You blink back tears and look away, picking the duvet pooled around your waist. She’d called you darling. You’d called her Kate. Uncharted territory.

“Have you been blaming yourself for my death all this time?” She asks quietly. Her hand reaches out, cups the side of your face, forcing you to make eye contact with her. Her touch is electric.

You nod silently against her palm.

“Darling,” she whispers again, and God you could die happy hearing her say that. “It’s not your fault,” she murmers. She’s closer now, leaning in, “it’s not your fault.” She whispers against your lips and then you’re kissing her.

It’s soft and cautious, and your mind goes black for a minute as you try to process the fact that all your fantasies are coming true at once. She breaks the kiss - perhaps to mentally list through all of the protocols and policies she’s currently breaking, perhaps just to catch her breath - and you stare at her dumbly, mouth open like a fish and tears drying quickly.

“Sorry,” she rambles hurriedly, “that was unprofessional. Was that alright? I can’t bear the thought of you carrying that guilt when -“

You lean in again and this time the desire hits you like a wave, taking everything within you to keep it at bay. There’s a sigh and her hand sneaks into your hair, the other fighting off the duvet tangled around her legs to get as close to you as possible. You slip a hand under the hem of her pyjama shirt to find hot, smooth skins and you moan into her mouth.

The noise seems to bring you back to yourself and the tension in the room snaps, reality flooding back in. The kiss breaks and she stares at you for a moment with a sort of wonder in her eyes.

“Wanted to do that for a while,” you confess before she can say anything.

“Me too,” is all she manages. She leans in again, but you muster every resolve within you and pull away after a few seconds. She pouts.

“You have to be up at 6am tomorrow,” you point out.

“I’ll sleep in the car,” she quips back.

“Someone has to drive that car,” you retort.

She laughs and it’s a nice sound, much better than her whines of fear as she shook in the grip of her nightmare, only minutes earlier.

“I never get to tell you how much I appreciate you,” she says, shifting to lie back down and pulling you down with her. Her golden hair splays around her head like a halo, and fingers thread through yours. “You make this job a damn lot easier for me, you know that? Not just the safety stuff, but just… you.”

You know what she means. You pull her into you and she sleeps sounder than she has in months.

[motorcop]

Concern Or ?

So many people think that once our recruitment team has a new potential officer in the building, stripped down and in "the chair" and they start their processing that its all a cake walk from here. Far from it, in the first few hours, a recruit still has much of their intelligence in tact. This is what makes our finished product so special. Throughout their conditioning, leaving that intelligence in place and accessible to them gives them a feeling of control and choice. In the end, its pulled out from under them right before the program completes. In this pic from the processing lab, one of our top recruiters comfort's the recruit and assures that he will relax and go along with the program....if not, a simple mind wipe and we fast forward to the end and suit him up, and we add another mindless rubber clad drone to our numbers....either way it's good for the department!

[puflatfreefactory]

2.50-4 High temperature vulcanization molding,Tool cart solid rubber tir...

[jasminocorporation]

Rubber Lining Solutions: Enhancing Operational Efficiency

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Understanding Rubber Lining

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[ribbonsaikeaux]

Doll Picking Lawyer: Dikea

This is the doll picking lawyer, and today I have for you the first generation of dolls from Dikea. While famous for their dahblaj stuffed shark, this is their first foray into functional doll making.

"Doll is just happy to be here!" The doll giggled excitedly.

This line of dolls has the interesting quality of its entire body being made from particle board. Though, it should be noted, like many other Dikea products, these dolls are to be assembled by the one purchasing it. It took quite some time for me to assemble, but as laborious as the process was, it was easy to follow the build instructions.

"Thank you Master!" The doll beamed.

While charming in its demeanor, this doll line is obviously not up to industry standard for physical resilience nor, indeed, security.

"Awwww!" The doll pouts.

The body can be easily damaged by water, blunt force, or even daily wear and tear. In addition, i will now demonstrate how it can be disabled by simply striking the turning mechanism with a rubber hammer.

"Oooo! Hammer!" Its giggle is cut ahort as the hammer strikes and it collapses, limbs spread out.

And just like that, it is disabled. Now, this doll requires lots of care in both its conatruction and maintainence, however it is perfectly adequate at performing most day to day tasks. Simply do not overtax it at it will be a valuable assistant for years to come.

At any rate, thats all i have for you today and as always have a great day.

[mariacallous]

Our planet is choking on plastics. Some of the worst offenders, which can take decades to degrade in landfills, are polypropylene—which is used for things such as food packaging and bumpers—and polyethylene, found in plastic bags, bottles, toys, and even mulch.

Polypropylene and polyethylene can be recycled, but the process can be difficult and often produces large quantities of the greenhouse gas methane. They are both polyolefins, which are the products of polymerizing ethylene and propylene, raw materials that are mainly derived from fossil fuels. The bonds of polyolefins are also notoriously hard to break.

Now, researchers at UC Berkeley have come up with a method of recycling these polymers that uses catalysts that easily break their bonds, converting them into propylene and isobutylene, which are gases at room temperature. Those gases can then be recycled into new plastics.

“Because polypropylene and polyethylene are among the most difficult and expensive plastics to separate from each other in a mixed waste stream, it is crucial that [a recycling] process apply to both polyolefins,” the research team said in a study recently published in Science.

Breaking It Down

The recycling process the team used is known as isomerizing ethenolysis, which relies on a catalyst to break down olefin polymer chains into their small molecules. Polyethylene and polypropylene bonds are highly resistant to chemical reactions, because both of these polyolefins have long chains of single carbon-carbon bonds. Most polymers have at least one carbon-carbon double bond, which is much easier to break.

While isomerizing ethenolysis had been tried by the same researchers before, the previous catalysts were expensive metals that did not remain pure long enough to convert all of the plastic into gas. Using sodium on alumina followed by tungsten oxide on silica proved much more economical and effective, even though the high temperatures required for the reaction added a bit to the cost.

In both plastics, exposure to sodium on alumina broke each polymer chain into shorter polymer chains and created breakable carbon-carbon double bonds at the ends. The chains continued to break over and over. Both then underwent a second process known as olefin metathesis. They were exposed to a stream of ethylene gas flowing into a reaction chamber while being introduced to tungsten oxide on silica, which resulted in the breakage of the carbon-carbon bonds.

The reaction breaks all the carbon-carbon bonds in polyethylene and polypropylene, with the carbon atoms released during the breaking of these bonds ending up attached to molecules of ethylene. “The ethylene is critical to this reaction, as it is a coreactant,” researcher R.J. Conk, one of the authors of the study, told Ars Technica. “The broken links then react with ethylene, which removes the links from the chain. Without ethylene, the reaction cannot occur.”

The entire chain is catalyzed until polyethylene is fully converted to propylene, and polypropylene is converted to a mixture of propylene and isobutylene.

This method has high selectivity—meaning it produces a large amount of the desired product: propylene derived from polyethylene, and both propylene and isobutylene derived from polypropylene. Both of these chemicals are in high demand; propylene is an important raw material for the chemical industry, while isobutylene is a frequently used monomer in many different polymers, including synthetic rubber and a gasoline additive.

Mixing It Up

Because plastics are often mixed at recycling centers, the researchers wanted to see what would happen if polypropylene and polyethylene underwent isomerizing ethenolysis together. The reaction was successful, converting the mixture into propylene and isobutylene, with slightly more propylene than isobutylene.

Mixtures also typically include contaminants in the form of additional plastics. So the team also wanted to see whether the reaction would still work if there were contaminants. They experimented with plastic objects that would otherwise be thrown away, including a centrifuge and a bread bag, both of which contained traces of other polymers besides polypropylene and polyethylene. The reaction yielded only slightly less propylene and isobutylene than it did with unadulterated versions of the polyolefins.

Another test involved introducing different plastics, such as PET and PVC, to polypropylene and polyethylene to see if that would make a difference. These did lower the yield significantly. If this approach is going to be successful, then all but the slightest traces of contaminants will have to be removed from polypropylene and polyethylene products before they are recycled.

While this recycling method sounds like it could prevent tons upon tons of waste, it will need to be scaled up enormously for this to happen. When the research team increased the scale of the experiment, it produced the same yield, which looks promising for the future. Still, we’ll need to build considerable infrastructure before this could make a dent in our plastic waste.

“We hope that the work described … will lead to practical methods for … [producing] new polymers,” the researchers said in the same study. “By doing so, the demand for production of these essential commodity chemicals starting from fossil carbon sources and the associated greenhouse gas emissions could be greatly reduced.”

[mybeingthere]

Once upon a time in 1885, Welsh singer, songwriter, scientist, and philanthropist Margaret Watts Hughes accidentally invented a method of turning her voice into images.

Hughes explained her invention, the eidophone, and her image-making process in an article for Century Magazine in 1891:

"In 1885, while seeking means to indicate readily the intensities of vocal sounds, I first met with these [voice] figures, and, owing to their variety both in form and production, they have since absorbed much of my attention. The apparatus I have employed I call the eidophone. This is very simple. It consists merely of an elastic membrane, such as thoroughly flexible soft sheet-rubber, tightly stretched over the mouth of a receiver of any form, into which receiver the voice is introduced by a wide-mouthed tube of convenient shape. In some cases the receiver may be dispensed with, and the membrane be stretched across the open end of the tube itself.

My first experiments were made with sand, lycopodium powder, or the two substances mixed. I then tried for the production of voice-figures, flooding the disk of the eidophone with a thin layer of liquid ; e.g. water or milk. Upon singing notes of suitable pitch through the tube, not too forcibly, beautiful crispations appear upon the surface of the liquid, which vary with every change of tone. A note sung too forcibly causes the liquid to rise in, a shower of spray, the movements of which are too rapid to be readily followed by the eye. To facilitate observation denser liquids may be used. By using such liquids as colored glycerin particularly beautiful effects may be obtained. Subsequently I found that by employing moistened powder of different consistencies yet another description of figures appears. The earliest result of my experiments in this material shows centers of motion from which radiations diverge."

By varying the sound of her voice and the materials and methods used to capture it, different patterns emerged.

If we dig a bit deeper into the process, we find greater complexity. Sophie B. Herrick did just that in Visible Sound – Comment [Century Magazine 42, 40 (1891)]:

These voice-flowers are not the simple visual forms corresponding with the vibrations of the air set in motion by the voice. The waves generated in the closed bowl of the eidophone are reflected again and again from the sides of the vessel. The volume of air inclosed has its own rate of vibration; the stretched membrane has also its own rate, which in turn is modified by the character and thickness of the paste spread upon it. Added to these are molecular forces of cohesion and adhesion between the particles of paste, and again between the paste and the membrane. The form which grows into shape is the resultant of all these complicated forces, and, in some instances, new elements of change have been added. A glass plate is placed on top of the vibrating membrane and moved over it. We have a new body introduced with its proper rate of vibration, besides a mechanical motion further to complicate the problem.

According to an article in MIT’s The Net Advance of Physics Weblog, Hughes’ “flower-like forms” were rediscovered in the 1960s by Swiss researcher Hans Jenny, who went on to coin the term cymatics to describe acoustic effects of sound wave phenomena. However it appears as if Jenny was only familiar with the black and white reproductions of Hughes works as published in her Century article.

The larger color works were thought to be lost(!) but were found in 2016 by the staff of the Cyfarthfa Castle Museum, located in Merthyr Tydfil, Wales, while digging through their archives. Taken as a whole, Hughes’ work has a foot in two camps —as part of the history and study of the physics of sound, and as part of the history of art. These works were displayed as such during her lifetime.

One can imagine that the Surrealists would have been quite taken with these voice-figures, automatism sans hands, and I find them quite beautiful and striking as works of visual art that do not fit the tidy androcentric narrative of history, art or otherwise (see Hilma af Klint for a similarly jarring example).

[fatehbaz]

"defending civilization against bugs"

lol the mosquito sculpture

see Pratik Chakrabarti's Medicine and Empire: 1600-1960 (2013) and Bacteriology in British India: Laboratory Medicine and the Tropics (2012)

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Sir Ronald Ross had just returned from an expedition to Sierra Leone. The British doctor had been leading efforts to tackle the malaria that so often killed English colonists in the country, and in December 1899 he gave a lecture to the Liverpool Chamber of Commerce [...]. [H]e argued that "in the coming century, the success of imperialism will depend largely upon success with the microscope."

Text by: Rohan Deb Roy. "Decolonise science - time to end another imperial era." The Conversation. 5 April 2018.

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[A]s [...] Diane Nelson explains: The creation of transportation infrastructure such as canals and railroads, the deployment of armies, and the clearing of ground to plant tropical products all had to confront [...] microbial resistance. The French, British, and US raced to find a cure for malaria [...]. One French colonial official complained in 1908: “fever and dysentery are the ‘generals’ that defend hot countries against our incursions and prevent us from replacing the aborigines that we have to make use of.” [...] [T]ropical medicine was assigned the role of a “counterinsurgent field.” [...] [T]he discovery of mosquitoes as malaria and yellow fever carriers reawakened long-cherished plans such as the construction of the Panama Canal (1904-1914) [...]. In 1916, the director of the US Bureau of Entomology and longtime general secretary of the American Association for the Advancement of Science rejoiced at this success as “an object lesson for the sanitarians of the world” - it demonstrated “that it is possible for the white race to live healthfully in the tropics.” [...] The [...] measures to combat dangerous diseases always had the collateral benefit of social pacification. In 1918, [G.V.], president of the Rockefeller Foundation, candidly declared: “For purposes of placating primitive and suspicious peoples, medicine has some decided advantages over machine guns." The construction of the Panama Canal [...] advanced the military expansion of the United States in the Caribbean. The US occupation of the Canal Zone had already brought racist Jim Crow laws [to Panama] [...]. Besides the [...] expansion of vice squads and prophylaxis stations, during the night women were picked up all over the city [by US authorities] and forcibly tested for [...] diseases [...] [and] they were detained in something between a prison and hospital for up to six months [...] [as] women in Panama were becoming objects of surveillance [...].

Text by: Fahim Amir. "Cloudy Swords." e-flux Journal Issue #115. February 2021.

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Richard P. Strong [had been] recently appointed director of Harvard’s new Department of Tropical Medicine [...]. In 1914 [the same year of the Canal's completion], just one year after the creation of Harvard’s Department of Tropical Medicine, Strong took on an additional assignment that cemented the ties between his department and American business interests abroad. As newly appointed director of the Laboratories of the Hospitals and of Research Work of United Fruit Company, he set sail in July 1914 to United Fruit plantations in Cuba, Guatemala, Honduras, Costa Rica, and Panama. […] As a shareholder in two British rubber plantations, [...] Strong approached Harvey Firestone, chief executive of the tire and rubber-processing conglomerate that bore his name, in December 1925 with a proposal [...]. Firestone had negotiated tentative agreements in 1925 with the Liberian government for [...] a 99-year concession to optionally lease up to a million acres of Liberian land for rubber plantations. [...]

[I]nfluenced by the recommendations and financial backing of Harvard alumni such as Philippine governor Gen. William Cameron Forbes [the Philippines were under US military occupation] and patrons such as Edward Atkins, who were making their wealth in the banana and sugarcane industries, Harvard hired Strong, then head of the Philippine Bureau of Science’s Biological Laboratory [where he fatally infected unknowing test subject prisoners with bubonic plague], and personal physician to Forbes, to establish the second Department of Tropical Medicine in the United States [...]. Strong and Forbes both left Manila [Philippines] for Boston in 1913. [...] Forbes [US military governor of occupied Philippines] became an overseer to Harvard University and a director of United Fruit Company, the agricultural products marketing conglomerate best known for its extensive holdings of banana plantations throughout Central America. […] In 1912 United Fruit controlled over 300,000 acres of land in the tropics [...] and a ready supply of [...] samples taken from the company’s hospitals and surrounding plantations, Strong boasted that no “tropical school of medicine in the world … had such an asset. [...] It is something of a victory [...]. We could not for a million dollars procure such advantages.” Over the next two decades, he established a research funding model reliant on the medical and biological services the Harvard department could provide US-based multinational firms in enhancing their overseas production and trade in coffee, bananas, rubber, oil, and other tropical commodities [...] as they transformed landscapes across the globe.

Text by: Gregg Mitman. "Forgotten Paths of Empire: Ecology, Disease, and Commerce in the Making of Liberia's Plantation Economy." Environmental History, Volume 22, Number 1. January 2017. [Text within brackets added by me for clarity and context.]

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[On] February 20, 1915, [...] [t]o signal the opening of the Panama-Pacific International Exposition (PPIE), [...] [t]he fair did not officially commence [...] until President Wilson [...] pressed a golden key linked to an aerial tower [...] whose radio waves sparked the top of the Tower of Jewels, tripped a galvanometer, [...] swinging open the doors of the Palace of Machinery, where a massive diesel engine started to rotate. [...] [W]ith lavish festivities [...] nineteen million people has passed through the PPIE's turnstiles. [...] As one of the many promotional pamphlets declared, "California marks the limit of the geographical progress of civilization. For unnumbered centuries the course of empire has been steadily to the west." [...] One subject that received an enormous amount of time and space was [...] the areas of race betterment and tropical medicine. Indeed, the fair's official poster, the "Thirteenth Labor of Hercules," [the construction of the Panama Canal] symbolized the intertwined significance of these two concerns [...]. [I]n the 1910s public health and eugenics crusaders alike moved with little or no friction between [...] [calls] for classification of human intelligence, for immigration restriction, for the promotion of the sterilization and segregation of the "unfit," [...]. It was during this [...] moment, [...] that California's burgeoning eugenicist movement coalesced [...]. At meetings convened during the PPIE, a heterogenous group of sanitary experts, [...] medical superintendents, psychologists, [...] and anthropologists established a social network that would influence eugenics on the national level in the years to come. [...]

In his address titled "The Physician as Pioneer," the president-elect of the American Academy of Medicine, Dr. Woods Hutchinson, credited the colonization of the Mississippi Valley to the discovery of quinine [...] and then told his audience that for progress to proceed apace in the current "age of the insect," the stringent sanitary regime imposed and perfected by Gorgas in the Canal Zone was the sine qua non. [...]

Blue also took part in the conference of the American Society for Tropical Medicine, which Gorgas had cofounded five years after the annexation of Cuba, Puerto Rico, and the Philippines. Invoking the narrative of medico-military conquest [...], [t]he scientific skill of the United States was also touted at the Pan-American Medical Congress, where its president, Dr. Charles L. Reed, delivered a lengthy address praising the hemispheric security ensured by the 1823 Monroe Doctrine and "the combined genius of American medical scientists [...]" in quelling tropical diseases, above all yellow fever, in the Canal Zone. [...] [A]s Reed's lecture ultimately disclosed, his understanding of Pan-American medical progress was based [...] on the enlightened effects of "Aryan blood" in American lands. [...] [T]he week after the PPIE ended, Pierce was ordered to Laredo, Texas, to investigate several incidents of typhus fever on the border [...]. Pierce was instrumental in fusing tropical medicine and race betterment [...] guided by more than a decade of experience in [...] sanitation in Panama [...]. [I]n August 1915, Stanford's chancellor, David Starr Jordan [...] and Pierce were the guests of honor at a luncheon hosted by the Race Betterment Foundation. [...] [At the PPIE] [t]he Race Betterment booth [...] exhibit [...] won a bronze medal for "illustrating evidences and causes of race degeneration and methods and agencies of race betterment," [and] made eugenics a daily feature of the PPIE. [...] [T]he American Genetics Association's Eugenics Section convened [...] [and] talks were delivered on the intersection of eugenics and sociology, [...] the need for broadened sterilization laws, and the medical inspection of immigrants [...]. Moreover, the PPIE fostered the cross-fertilization of tropical medicine and race betterment at a critical moment of transition in modern medicine in American society.

Text by: Alexandra Minna Stern. Eugenic Nation: Faults and Frontiers of Better Breeding in Modern America. Second Edition. 2016.

[stormz369]

The King of Hell and Me: Ch 2 - Molting

Chapter Guide Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4

Summary: Lucifer goes missing because he's embarrassed. Preening ensues. Wolf-demon reader. Warnings: fluff, Lucifer being bad at vulnerability, animal characteristics, implied arousal, rated mature (maybe?) Word Count: 3k

Lucifer had his own home, of course. But since the hotel’s grand re-opening, he’d been staying in his suite here. To be closer to Charlie, or to get himself out of his depression funk, or maybe both, it wasn’t clear. Either way, we’d found ourselves spending a lot of time together. We ate breakfast together most days, he told me all about his most recent duck-based inventions, and he was the only person I let into my office while I was doing my work for the hotel. Charlie had hired me as an all-purpose consultant, letting me work on any projects I wanted, and I dove straight into the advertising/community outreach/PR side of things. My work didn’t typically look like much until I had a completed product to present, so I didn’t like to have people watching my process, and as long as I kept her in the loop Charlie didn’t mind my secretive ways. But Lucifer was a creative mind too. He understood that sitting at my desk apparently doing nothing wasn’t actually nothing, and he let me be.

He was also the only person allowed to put things in my office, but that was only because he felt it was odd that I was a wolf without a pack, -because “Even hellhounds have packs, dear girl! Wolf-demons aren’t that uncommon, you need a family!”- and had started making one for me, a slowly growing pack of rubber ducks with wolf ears and fluffy tails. Every so often I’d find a new one in my office, and each one did something unusual. A pair facing each other on the windowsill had a laser between them that would alert us to intruders, but most were silly things like duck-wolves that could jump and growl, or were actually soap dispensers or changed color with the weather. 

It actually worked out to be a mutually beneficial relationship. We both had a tendency to dive headfirst into our hyperfixations, and when one of us did, the other usually managed to keep them from spiraling too far. He’d comb my hair and fur, and remind me to take breaks. I’d bring him dinner and get him out of his room when he was getting frustrated. One time I even sat in the bathroom taking notes while he talked so he could shower without losing his flow. We weren't exactly romantic, but it was far more emotionally intimate than any romantic relationship I’d ever had. And, with no one else filling that role for either of us, we did end up on the receiving end of a lot of ‘old married couple’ jokes. 

And that’s why, when he suddenly just wasn’t at the hotel one morning, I got a bit nervous. And, I’ll be honest, frustrated. I reminded myself that just because we typically spent breakfasts together didn’t mean we had to every day. Just because he’d told me every time he was leaving the hotel for the last few months didn’t mean he was beholden to me. We were friends, but he wasn’t mine and I couldn’t tell him what to do. I had no right or reason to be put off by this unexpected change to my routine. So I ate breakfast alone, went down to my office to work alone, and … couldn’t get into it. I couldn’t focus, everything was just a bit off. I should be able to hear his breathing, see his faint glow out of the corner of my eye, feel his hands in my hair. But I was entirely, soul crushingly, alone. 

I texted him every day for the first week. Then once every few days, which quickly became once a week, but he never responded. He didn’t even look at them. I was starting to think he might be mad at me, but I couldn’t imagine what I could have done to upset him so much. I started working evenings, finding it less uncomfortable to be alone at night, but I had trouble getting much done either way. Charlie started bringing me breakfast in my office when everyone else had dinner. I appreciated that she was making sure I ate, but I was just as worried about her as she was about me. Lucifer hadn’t reached out to her either, and he wasn’t taking her calls, and her calm facade was starting to crack. At least she had Vaggie though. I was just alone.

A month into his disappearance I was working late again. Everyone was in bed, and I was trying to finish up this advertising campaign mock up for Charlie, when I heard the door of the hotel creak open. My ears perked up, and I cracked my office door open, listening carefully. I couldn’t make out who had come to visit. There were footsteps, light and airy but far too heavy to be Lucifer. I sniffed the air, glad for my more animalistic senses, hoping to catch some kind of clue. Friend, or foe? Welcome, or defend? The air smelled … musty, and damp. Something was very off.

I flicked my wrist, extending my claws, and made my way silently down the dark hallway. The intruder stumbled up the stairs, it would be silent to those without acute hearing, but I heard every step. I followed along, trying to visualize where they were from the sounds. They made their way past the elevator and up more flights of stairs, and I tracked along behind them, staying a floor below them to avoid detection. I wanted to know who they were, but I also wanted to know what they were looking for. When they finally made their way down a hallway, I glowered. They were on Charlie’s floor. I waited, listening halfway up the stairs so I could pounce if needed, until I heard them stop at a door. I jumped up, landing a few feet away from the short, trenchcoat clad figure. They jumped, pressing themself against the wall as if they could disappear through it, and dropped … a key?

“... Lucifer?” I whispered.

He turned toward me, a sheepish grin on his face. “... Heeey … I’m home!”

I sighed, scooping up his key and unlocking his door, gesturing for him to go inside. “Don’t wake Charlie.”

He nodded, darting inside. His footfalls were too heavy, he was hunched over a bit, and his back looked bulky under his coat. Something was wrong. He sat awkwardly on the couch, kicking his feet a bit. “Sooo … How’ve you been?”

“How have I been? … Luc, where have you been? … Y- you didn’t call, you didn’t tell anyone where you were going, or when you’d be back, you sneak in in the dead of night in whatever that is, you smell like a drowned bird, and you’re walking like an injured dog. And you ask how I’ve been???” A deranged laugh ripped its way out of my throat as I collapsed onto the seat next to him. “... Do you even care that we’ve all been worried sick? … I … you didn’t text me back … You were just … gone.”

He flinched a bit, hesitantly reaching for my hand. “... I .. I’m sorry, puppy … I didn’t mean to scare you. I just … I had something to attend to.”

I sighed softly, letting him take my hand. “What was so important that you couldn’t even tell us you were ok?”

“I … just had to …” He sighed. “Look, it’s kind of embarrassing, ok? I …” He mumbled something, a low whine in the back of his throat masking his words.

“... What was that?”

“I’m molting, ok?” He whined, shifting uncomfortably. “I’m molting, and I can’t comfortably put my wings away until it’s over, and they’re ugly right now! So I just … I thought I’d just go to the manor until it was over. I was only coming back tonight to get my sketchbook so I could work on a project…”

I blinked a bit, trying not to laugh. “... Right. … Just so I’m clear, cause I didn’t really interact with birds on earth. Molting is the one where birds lose a bunch of feathers and get new ones, right?” He nodded. “And it’s a yearly thing?”

He nodded again, “For most birds. Angels get a little one each year, and a big one each decade. It takes forever! It’s … unpleasant. Messy …” He grumbled softly; “humiliating.”

“Humiliating? It’s just part of having wings, isn’t it? How is that humiliating?”

“... You’ve seen my wings, what did you think of them?”

I let out a sigh, thinking. “... They’re bigger than I expected, but that makes sense since you’re not a bird. They’d have to be pretty big to lift you up … unless you’ve got hollow bones and they’re just ostentatious?” I chuckled a bit, hoping to lighten his mood, but it didn’t seem to work. “... They’re beautiful, and they look really soft … You look so majestic when you fly …”

“Exactly. … Beautiful. Majestic. That’s what they’re supposed to be … but when the molt comes they’re … really not that. … Molting is messy, and itchy, and … gross! … I look like a plucked chicken under this coat…” He whined softly, frustrated tears pricking at his eyes as he hid his face in his hands. “And the worst part is that I can’t even rush it along like we did in heaven, because I can’t reach!”

“... Can’t reach? … Do you have to pluck something, or?”

He nodded. “At the end of the molt the new feathers have these keratin sheaths that have to be removed … In heaven we’d get a few trusted angels together and circle up, but I can’t do that here! So I just have to wait for them to peel off on their own!”

I frowned softly, gently stroking his shoulder. He whined softly, looking at me hesitantly. “Lucifer, … I’m sure this is a … sensitive topic, and I’m sure there’s a reason you didn’t ask, but … if you wanted to ask, … I would help. And I promise, I wouldn’t judge you for what they look like right now, or talk to anyone else about it, or anything like that … It’s just like when you got that matt out of my fur, that was pretty embarrassing for me, but I couldn’t see it well enough to get it out myself. So you sat down with me, and you took a set of combs, and detangling spray, and a pair of scissors, and you fixed it for me. … You could have just cut it out, but you didn’t. You sat there and meticulously detangled it for hours, and then you trimmed everything so it wouldn’t get bad so easily again. Remember? … I could do the same for you.”

He nodded slowly, sighing softly. “I just … I didn’t want you to see … you don’t understand, they look really bad right now …”

“So did my neck.”

He thought for a moment, sighing before he carefully slipped the ugly beige trench coat off. His wings were pressed firmly against his back, almost trembling. He turned away, letting me get a good look at them. The majority of his flight feathers had already gone through the process, but about half of the fluffy down feathers were still encased, or partially encased, in cylindrical sheaths. I smiled softly, gently stroking down his spine. “It really doesn’t look so bad, Luci. Let’s get comfy, ok? Do you wanna lay down somewhere?”

A shiver went up his spine, and his wings attempted to puff up in response. It did look a bit sad, but I wasn’t gonna tell him that. He was feeling uncomfortable enough as it was. His wings were usually a source of great pride for him, I wasn’t about to make this harder for him. He slowly nodded, and carefully got up. I followed him to his bedroom, a little concerned by how wobbly he seemed.

“... Luc, is the molt really the only thing that’s going on? You seem a bit … off?”

He collapsed onto his bed, pulling a pillow under his chest and crossing his arms under himself. “It’s enough … The little molts take a lot of energy, but the big ones … The big ones really suck … I’ve been in bed pretty much since I left …”

I nodded, sitting next to him. “I see … so, I just start peeling these things off the feathers?”

He nodded. “Gently, please … You can roll them a bit if they resist, but if that doesn’t work move on to the next one. Most of them should be ready though.”

I hummed softly, gently taking the wing in front of me and carefully extending it. He groaned softly, following my movements compliantly. I let the wing rest on my legs and began carefully sliding my fingertips over the little cylinders. Most of the keratin sheaths started to flake and crumble away under my touch, and I carefully rolled the slightly more resistant ones between my fingers. Under my touch, fluffy down and contour feathers began to emerge. I gently brushed the debris away, careful of my claws. I knew I had to do this perfectly; to prove he could trust me with things like this. He wasn’t moving or making any noises though, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or bad.

I worked methodically from the bottom where his wing attached to his back, up and out to the wingtip, periodically brushing the detritus away and stroking his freshly exposed feathers. I finished the right side and got halfway through the wings on the left before I ran into one that started to peel away, but then didn’t want to budge. I was about to move on like he’d told me, but I paused when I heard the first noise Lucifer made since I started touching his wings; a high pitched whine. He squirmed uncomfortably, and his wings ruffled up a bit.

“... Luci? D- did I hurt you?”

“Noooo … I want it off …” He whimpered softly, pressing his face into the pillow. “... C- Can you scratch it a bit? Just a bit!”

I nodded, humming softly my agreement, and carefully ran a claw along the sheath. His high whine returned, but this time it seemed a bit more … pleased? I scratched again, watching little bits of the sheath peel away. After just a little bit more the sheath fell away entirely, releasing its fluffy feather, and Lucifer sighed happily. 

“Ohhh fuck~ … Oh, that’s so much better! Your hands are magic~” He moaned softly, bringing a blush to my cheeks.

I cleared my throat; “... I’m glad you’re liking it, Luc.”

I carefully continued to the tip of his wing. There were only a few that hadn’t been ready to go yet, and his wings were back to their full, shiny, fluffy glory. He sighed happily, but didn’t move to get up, so I just continued to stroke his feathers.

“Ahh~ … Puppy, that’s wonderful~ … But y- … you do know, wings are sensitive, yeah?” He slowly lifted his head, looking over his shoulder at me. The heat on his face made me squirm shyly, and I shakily removed my hands.

“S- Sorry … I …” I blushed bright red, scooting backwards. He whined softly, slowly sitting up and facing me.

He shakily reached for my hand, running his thumb over my fingers. “... I wasn’t trying to make you stop. …”

I blushed even more, looking up at him shyly. “... So … should I continue?”

He slowly lifted my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles gently. “... Only if you wish to.”

I nodded slowly, shakily pushing him to lay back down. He did, watching me out of the corner of his eye, and I straddled his hips, stroking his wings gently.

“... They’re so beautiful, Luci … You are beautiful …” I was mesmerized, letting my hands trail along the soft feathers. 

He sighed happily, settling under me. “... I cannot believe I let this go on for a full blessed month when I could have had your hands on me this whole time …”

I chuckled softly, continuing to preen him gently. “Never again, yes? You come to me for this, whenever you need it. Or even if you just want it. … You take care of me, and I take care of you.”

“Because we’re an old married couple.” He nodded, yawning softly. “Yes, love, anything wifey wants~”

I blushed brightly, trying desperately to stop the squeak from leaving my mouth. Others had called us a married couple before, mostly to tease us, but we had never said it. “... That’s right, husband. Anything I want.”

He smirked slightly. “Husband … I like the way that word sounds when you say it ... If you’re not careful, I might just make you my wife for real …”

“... And what exactly would ‘being careful’ look like?”

“Oh, you know. Not letting me touch you anymore, keeping me out of your office, making fun of my ducks. … Taking your hands off my wings would definitely count as being careful.”

I chuckled softly, steeling my nerves and leaning forward to kiss his cheek. I whispered against his ear; “sounds like a horrible way to live. I think I’ll take my chances.”

His eyes flew open, looking up at me. A bright red blush spread across his face, and a hesitant smile graced his lips. “... I agree. A horrible way to live.”

He carefully slid out from under me, turning around so I was in his lap instead, and gently cupped my cheek, rubbing gently with his thumb. I leaned into his touch, sighing happily, and he slid his hand up to stroke my fluffy wolf ear. An almost electric feeling shot through me, leaving me gasping, and I hesitantly looked up at him. He smirked slightly, pulling me closer and kissing me softly before he whispered in my ear; “Now don’t give me that look, love~ You’ve been doing it to me this whole time~”