#bottle cap mold

[bottlemachine]

Advances in Cap Mold Technology: Key Developments and Trends

The evolution of bottle cap mold technology has significantly influenced the packaging industry, bringing about substantial improvements in efficiency, precision, and sustainability. As the demand for more advanced and reliable packaging solutions continues to rise, the development of bottle cap mold technology has been at the forefront of these changes.

One of the key advancements in bottle cap mold technology is the integration of more sophisticated materials. Traditional bottle cap molds were predominantly made from metal alloys that could endure high pressure and temperature. However, recent developments have introduced new composite materials that offer enhanced durability and reduced weight. These modern materials contribute to the longevity of bottle cap molds and the efficiency of the production process.

Another notable trend in bottle cap mold technology is the advancement in computer-aided design (CAD) and manufacturing (CAM) techniques. The use of CAD allows for the creation of highly detailed and precise bottle cap mold designs, which can be tested and modified virtually before actual production begins. CAM technology further streamlines the manufacturing process by automating the production of bottle cap molds with high accuracy. This integration of CAD and CAM not only improves the precision of bottle cap molds but also reduces production times and costs.

The focus on sustainability has also driven significant changes in bottle cap mold technology. Manufacturers are increasingly adopting eco-friendly practices, such as using recyclable materials and reducing waste. Modern bottle cap molds are designed with features that lessen the amount of scrap material generated during production. Additionally, advancements in injection molding technology have led to more efficient use of resources, thereby supporting environmental sustainability.

Furthermore, advancements in bottle cap mold technology have led to the development of multi-cavity molds. These molds are designed to produce multiple bottle caps in a single cycle, greatly enhancing production efficiency. Multi-cavity bottle cap molds are particularly advantageous for high-volume manufacturing, as they help to meet the growing demands of the market while maintaining consistent quality.

Automation and robotics have also made a significant impact on bottle cap mold technology. The incorporation of robotic systems in the production process has improved the precision and speed of mold operations. Robots can handle complex tasks such as mold changes and quality inspections with greater accuracy than manual methods. This automation not only increases production capacity but also reduces the likelihood of human error, resulting in higher-quality bottle caps.

The trend towards smart manufacturing is another development shaping bottle cap mold technology. Smart molds equipped with sensors and data analytics capabilities provide real-time monitoring and feedback on the production process. These smart bottle cap molds can detect anomalies, adjust parameters automatically, and provide valuable insights into the performance of the molds. This technology enhances the overall efficiency and reliability of bottle cap production.

Moreover, the introduction of advanced cooling systems in bottle cap molds has further improved production processes. Effective cooling is crucial for maintaining the quality and consistency of bottle caps. Modern cooling systems are designed to optimize the temperature control during molding, ensuring that the bottle caps are produced with small defects.

In conclusion, advancements in bottle cap mold technology are transforming the packaging industry by enhancing efficiency, precision, and sustainability. The integration of sophisticated materials, CAD and CAM techniques, eco-friendly practices, multi-cavity molds, automation, smart manufacturing, and advanced cooling systems all contribute to the ongoing improvements in bottle cap mold technology. As the industry continues to evolve, these developments will play a crucial role in meeting the demands for higher-quality and more sustainable packaging solutions. The future of bottle cap mold technology promises even greater innovations, further advancing the capabilities and performance of these essential tools in the manufacturing process.

[sooptea]

Casual reminder to CLEAN YOUR WATER BOTTLE !!!

[yueyimold]

bicolors press flip lid mold

China 2k mold maker, offer double colour lotion bottle dispensing cap mold, multi shot shampoo bottle cover mold, bi injection gel bottle flip tops mold, bicolors press flip lid mold.

Web: www.yueyimold.com WhatsApp& WeChat: +86 183 5761 6586 Mail: lucia@yueyimold.com

[gudmould]

Infusion bottle cap mold design and process parameter optimization based on CAE technology

1 Analysis of plastic part structure and molding plan Medical polypropylene plastic has advantages of high purity, non-toxicity, non-irritation, good chemical stability, no degradation, no inflammation, non-allergic reaction, good biocompatibility, non-carcinogenicity, non-hemolysis and non-coagulation, and can withstand ethylene oxide sterilization treatment. This material not only has good…

[saltinesinsoup]

hydroflask i got from my work why are you so hard to clean? why did you have to have a standard mouth i can barely fit two fingers in? why did there have to be some sort of mold most likely stuck in the crevices that i can’t reach?

[capmould]

Optimize Your Packaging Process with a High-Quality Edible Oil Bottle Cap Mold

Edible oil bottle cap Molds play a crucial role in ensuring the quality and safety of edible oil packaging. These Molds are used to produce caps that seal the bottles containing edible oils, providing protection against contaminants, maintaining product freshness, and preventing leakage. Let's explore the importance of edible oil bottle cap Molds in more detail:

Seal Integrity: The primary function of a bottle cap is to provide a tight and secure seal to the bottle. Edible oil bottle cap Molds are designed to create caps that fit the specific bottle size and shape perfectly. This precision ensures a reliable seal that prevents air, moisture, and other contaminants from entering the bottle. A proper seal is essential for maintaining the quality, flavor, and shelf life of edible oils.

Product Freshness and Quality: Edible oils are sensitive to oxidation and exposure to air. By using high-quality bottle cap Molds, manufacturers can produce caps that tightly seal the bottles, preventing oxygen from entering and causing oil oxidation. This helps preserve the freshness, flavor, and nutritional value of the edible oil, ensuring that consumers receive a high-quality product.

Leakage Prevention: Edible oil bottle cap Molds are designed to create caps that effectively prevent leakage. This is particularly important for preventing spills, which can result in product wastage, mess, and potential safety hazards. Properly designed Molds produce caps that securely fit the bottle neck, minimizing the risk of leaks during transportation, storage, or handling.

Tamper-evident Features: Many edible oil bottle caps incorporate tamper-evident features, such as a breakable seal or a visible ring. These features provide assurance to consumers that the product is intact and has not been tampered with. Edible oil bottle cap Molds can be customized to include these tamper-evident features, enhancing consumer trust and safety.

Compliance with Regulatory Standards: The production of edible oil bottle caps must adhere to strict regulatory standards to ensure consumer safety. Cap Molds play a vital role in meeting these standards by producing caps that meet the required specifications for size, fit, and quality. Compliance with regulatory standards is essential to prevent potential health risks and maintain consumer confidence in the product.

Cost-effectiveness and Efficiency: Edible oil bottle cap Molds are designed to produce caps efficiently and in large quantities, contributing to cost-effectiveness in manufacturing. The Molds are engineered for durability and longevity, allowing for repeated use over an extended period without compromising the quality of the caps. This ensures a consistent supply of high-quality caps while optimizing production efficiency.

In summary, Edible oil bottle cap molds play a critical role in ensuring the quality, safety, and integrity of edible oil packaging. They enable the production of caps that provide a secure seal, maintain product freshness, prevent leakage, incorporate tamper-evident features, comply with regulatory standards, and offer cost-effectiveness and efficiency in manufacturing. By using reliable and well-designed Molds, manufacturers can safeguard the quality of edible oils and instill consumer confidence in their products.

[velocityequipmentpa]

Purpose of a Blow Molding Machine

Companies dealing with packaging services often use a bottle capping machine to serve their purpose. The same size fits all dogma does not apply here. Instead, individual clients try to source the right machine depending on specific requirements. Indeed there are multiple components to check and approve before placing the final order to have the machine installed. It is always better to be well-informed about the requirement instead of depending on the manufacturer or dealer to provide the right device. It is not weird to be flabbergasted by the available variety or asked about the range of machines that fit the purpose perfectly. It is advisable to research the types of machines available for handling the capping suitably. The end-user can choose based on the working principle of the devices or opt for the best machine according to its application. Other customers may decide to look at various machines that support different kinds of automation too. Whatever may be the process of selection, the following criteria need to be met before giving assent for a particular capping machine:- · Accuracy- The right way to place the caps without wasting time is important. Sure, both an automatic and a semi-automatic machine can cap the bottles efficiently, but one needs to consider the accuracy of the capping and the speed simultaneously to ensure a good buy. The bigger plants prefer fully automatic machines as the caps get placed and fitted into the mouth of the bottle with a satisfying snap. The line moves on speedily, improving workplace productivity as well. · Cross Contamination- Reducing or eliminating human error during this process is most important. The worker capping bottles manually is sure to be fatigued and make careless mistakes. This will not only cause leakage of valuable liquid from the bottle but there may also be cross-contamination of the product. This is a health hazard for plants capping bottles containing milk, water, or other food items. It is best to eliminate this possibility once and for all by opting for an automatic machine. · Adaptability- the modern-day automatic bottle capping machines are perfect in all aspects. Most of the machines allow switching between different types of bottles/containers, with the shape and size of caps varying accordingly. Specifying the need to the manufacturer will result in customization that not only enhances the speed of capping but ensures accuracy too. · Reliability- Locating a manufacturer and/or dealer that scarifies all criteria without charging exorbitantly can be a Godsend. It is essential to find one with a proven track record of shipping the machine to the plant at the earliest. Often, the dealer or manufacturer will dispatch a technician to oversee the bottling line and help with the installation. The companies engaged in the task of manufacturing bottles and containers according to specifications must invest in the best possible machine capable of producing bottles rapidly. Souring a top blow molding machine can ensure meeting the demand easily.

[dionpierre]

EXHALE

The last leg of your world tour has finally arrived, and you find yourself suffering from burnout. Thankfully, your boyfriend knows just how to rejuvenate you.

— [Content Warnings]: fluff, smut, cursing, descriptions of same sex relations (male oral), kissing.

As requested, EXHALE is here, and I hope that it meets the expectations of the anon who requested it (albeit, very apparent revisions have been made). This is my first smut, so feedback and constructive criticism will definitely be appreciated. I did my best to proofread, but if you happen upon any grammatical errors and such, please try and excuse them.

I have several other smuts lined up, but I am still very open to suggestions! [Please do keep in mind that I am more comfortable with writing MxM smuts].

Thank you for reading, and enjoy.

— APD 🧸

You push into the dressing room, closing the door behind you. The silence inside feels stifling, the lingering scent of sweat and stale air clinging to the cramped space. Your back hits the door, and you drag a calloused palm over your face, fingers pressing into your tired eyes. You wish you were anywhere else—maybe at Terry's small apartment in southern Louisiana, the scent of pine and tobacco in the air, cuddling as you watched horror movies in his dimly lit bedroom. The weight of his strong arms around you, the gentle rasp of his gravelly voice brushing against your ear, would be enough to drown out the deafening echoes of chaos closing in on you now.

You weakly lift yourself off the door, moving to the vanity mirrors. A stray bottle of whiskey rests idly on the dresser, beckoning to you. Plopping into a chair, you snatch the bottle by its neck, twisting off the cap and taking a long, deliberate swig. You snarl as the whiskey cooks the flesh in your throat, hoping that the tipsiness you're chasing will be enough to fill the time until Terry arrives from the hotel to pick you up.

There's a heat searing through your back. Your eyes flutter open, and you sleepily lift your head from resting on your arms. After blinking away the grogginess, a familiar figure manifests before you. It's Terry, kneeling at your side, brows knitted together in concern. The usual sharpness of his hazel-blue eyes has softened into a tender gaze. He rakes it over your figure, inspecting you for any signs of harm. Finally, his eyes lock with yours, and a charged silence passes between you two.

He gives a terse nod, as if he'd suspected your frustrations from a mile away. The palm on your back snakes up to your shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze.

You could burst into tears. This night has been the culmination of an impending burnout. Since your first platinum record, the world has been pulling you in all sorts of directions. There are millions of expectations to meet, creating an unbearable weight you feel can only be lifted by giving up.

But your salvation is here, just as he's always been—and his broad shoulders are more than ready to bear this cross with you. You can see it in the way he bites down on his jaw, chewing on a quiet determination to never let you fall anywhere except into his arms. A shuddery breath leaves your nostrils involuntarily, and you feel the familiar sting of salty moisture welling in your eyes.

Terry is alert, moving to scoop you into an embrace. It isn't until the wide expanse of his chest presses against yours, and his careful hands trace the outline of your body, that you realize how touch-deprived you are. It causes a shiver to course through your veins, highlighting how perfectly your frames mold together. Your arms find his back and pull him impossibly close, burying your face in the nook of his neck.

You breathe in his scent—a tender, masculine fragrance with earthy undertones, which only serves to enhance his already grounding nature. After another moment, you reluctantly pull apart, hands still braced on shoulders.

Terry catches a stray tear with his thumb, banishing it from your face as if to rebuke your sadness itself.

He hates to see you like this, you can tell. You take his hand in yours, in adoration of his empathetic ways. After all, the man is hardly anything but an overgrown teddy bear despite his militant stature.

He holds your gaze for a second longer before abruptly pressing his lips against yours. Terry is as impatient as he is caring—you've learned that in the years of your relationship—and you don't fault him. You relish in the fullness of his lips as they move to suck on your bottom one before retracting with a soft smack.

"Ready to go?" Terry rasps, that velvety baritone voice barely above a whisper.

You give a small nod and croak, "As I'll ever be."

"Sit down. I'll run you a bath."

Terry's words are just as gentle as they are commanding. You oblige, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. He moves to store your things away, hauling them into the closet space. His tall frame bends down as he works, boasting a perfect arch molded by disciplined trips to the gym. Your lips can't help but crease into a smirk as you watch his posteriors spread.

Once the task is complete, he straightens up and turns toward you. Your smirk doesn't dissolve in time, and he catches on just before you try to mask it. He smiles and laughs, a thunderous rumble from the back of his throat. His teeth flash white against his tan skin, and crow's feet tug at the corners of his eyes, showcasing a wholesome sexiness that can't be denied.

"So we lookin' at asses now?" He cocks a brow, smirk never quite leaving his face as he stalks toward the bed. He plops down beside you, his weight causing the bed to groan.

You look at him, an incredulous scoff. "Are you saying I can't?"

"Are those the words that came out of my mouth?" He quips, sprawling out on the mattress, tucking his hands behind his head.

You release a laugh at his apparent sassiness and roll your eyes. "Aren't you supposed to be drawing a bath for me?"

Although you feign irritation, there's no real malice poisoning your tone. You actually appreciate the playful banter, as it serves to lift the thick fog of sadness you're under tonight. It always surprises you, how easily Terry pulls you out of your head, even when you're fighting to stay buried in your own frustrations.

Terry leans up, scooting to your side. "I am. But I figured you'd like to talk first."

You respond immediately, your words sharper than intended. "About?"

"Baby," Terry whines, his words lilting with that low, southern drawl. It's a subtle plea for honesty—and just as he is meek, he is also assured in knowing that he deserves nothing less. An arm snakes around your waist, pulling you close. "Don't do me that."

Once again, you find yourself fighting against admitting your failures from tonight. Saying them out loud will only make it all—the shame, the exhaustion—undeniably real. While it is pride, it is equally fear. Terry knows that. He firmly squeezes the dip of your waist, as if to stress the notion. He's right here with you, for you.

You can't deny him any longer, and soon the words start welling up, flowing uninhibitedly. As you speak, Terry is attentive, soaking up the stream of pained explanations as best as possible. Like an angel receiving a prayer, the knowledge that he's listening is nearly the only comfort you need. But his graces aren't limited to only one sense; touch is just as viable.

Terry's hands instinctively find yours, fingers braiding with your own. As you conclude your rant, he lifts them toward his lips, pressing a soft kiss on the back of your palm.

"I'm proud of you," he mutters, locking gazes with you. "But don't be so hard on yourself."

You scoff brashly.

"I'm serious," Terry's voice is firm, leaving no room for protest. "You've been busting your ass nonstop. This was inevitable."

You dismiss him with a sigh and shake of your head. "I just need to step it up."

"You're not listening," Terry says flatly, tone laced with a barely perceptible frustration. He takes your chin in between his thumb and index finger, angling your head toward him so that you are forced to feel the heat in his steady gaze. "The only thing you need to do is slow down."

Your body stills at those words. Slow down. All signs proved them to be true—the pressure in your head is persistent, and there's a tightness in your chest. Your muscles are aflame, burning for recovery. But despite all of this, a conflict still wars within you. Slowing down would mean admitting that you're not as invincible as you'd promised yourself. You'd taken on this tour full throttle, driven by a determination to prove (to who, you're not even sure anymore), that you could push through anything.

Yet, deep down, you know that this pace is unsustainable. The exhaustion, the faltering notes on stage—it's all catching up to you. But giving in, even a little, feels like letting go of the last bit of control you have left.

As if sensing your hesitation, Terry huffs and stands from the bed. He stretches his palm, motioning for you to grab ahold of it. "C'mon."

You glance up. "What?"

"Get up," he commands you. "We'll bath together."

Laughter, soft and hushed, escapes you. "Terrence—"

Terry interjects, his voice a clear warning. "Get up, or I'll make you. I ain't about to watch you do this to yourself."

You know he means every word spoken. The conviction riding in the base in his voice slowly, but surely dismantles your pride. With your eyes on his, you take his hand and allow yourself to be guided from the bed.

God, how did you manage to find a man like Terry Richmond?

Leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom, you watch as Terry kneels at the tub, agitating the soap suds rising from the steaming water with his hand. The muscles in his back flex as he twists off the faucet. He flicks the soaked hand over the tub before standing and turning toward you. There's a magnetic pull between you, both of you resisting the urge to make the first move.

Your mouth curves into a grateful half-smile, and Terry returns the gesture, releasing a breathy chuckle.

"You're far," he mutters, his gaze sweeping over you. "Why?"

You laugh inwardly, knowing the remark is both a question and a demand. Arms folded across your chest, you start toward him, your bare feet padding across the pristine tile. His eyes stay wired to you, glimmering in a way that complements the suggestive smugness on his face. You leave just enough space between you to tease him, because why not?

As expected, Terry is unamused. His smirk drops into an irritated grimace, warning you not to stand in the way of what he wants. But you're just as stubborn as he is impatient.

"C'mere," he tells you.

Feeling bold, you retort, "Or what? You'll make me?"

"No," Terry murmurs, "I'll just come to you."

Before the words fully escape his lips, he's already cornering you against the sink. Heat radiates from his body, his bull-like breath tickling your skin. Whatever sparks were flying earlier have now raged into full-blown wildfires, setting you ablaze with an all-consuming hunger. You need this—you need him.

Your breath hitches as Terry grips your hips, pulling your body flush against his. "Water's gonna go cold, fuckin' around with you."

Whatever reply you have is swallowed by a fervent, insatiable kiss. Staggering against the sink, Terry's tongue wages war against yours, and you're reminded that teddy bears are still bears. You can only repay his passion with feeble attempts to match his intensity. You're his jar of honey, and he's determined to devour every drop, tugging at your lips until they swell.

All your earlier troubles begin to melt away as Terry's lips move down your neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses. Your hand instinctively claws at his back, your hips bucking toward his. The harmonic tension of his panting fuels your arousal, and you quickly pull your shirt over your head, discarding it to the floor. Terry takes care of the rest, unfastening your pants in one swift motion. You lift your legs to help, and he shucks them off with ease.

When he finds your collarbone, you think he won't go any lower—but he proves you wrong, nipping and sucking his way down. The man is a master at foreplay, his rough tongue flicking over your nipple while his fingers pinch and twist the other.

A guttural groan rips from deep within you, your body melting into the sensation. You're like clay in Terry's broad hands, allowing him to mold you into the relaxation he's intent on making you feel. Your hands enclose around the back of his shaven head, and you heatedly whisper his name—unsure if it's a plea for him to let up or never stop.

The sound of his name on your lips is like throwing gasoline on a fire. Terry hums against your skin, his deep voice vibrating through you as he trails his lips lower, venturing to your abdomen. His fingers dig into your waist with a possessive grip. He's on his knees now, ravenously lapping at the defined trail of hair leading down from your navel. The heat from his breath is agonizingly close to the waistband of your briefs, and a shiver races down your spine at the thought of what comes next.

He glances up, weighing the hesitance in your eyes. His hand presses gently against the small of your back as he reassures you, "You're okay. Just let me get you right."

You've never seen him so submissive, and yet somehow, he's managed to keep his signature dominance intact. He's still the captain of this ship, sailing the seas of ecstasy until he delivers you to the promising shores of climax. You have no choice but to ride along and let him take you there—to the place your body has so desperately wanted to go since the tour's inception. You then nod, giving him permission he doesn't need but has earned.

On cue, Terry hooks his fingers into the elastic of your briefs, slowly tugging them down. His eyes never leave yours, locking you into the moment as the cool air brushes over your exposed skin.

As the fabric clambers to your ankles, Terry ogles the sight before him. He's not one for wasting time, and without a word, his lips smooch along the outline of your hardening length. It's a slow, tantalizing graze down to the head. You writhe at the contact, but he doesn't react immediately—clearly wanting to draw this out.

But you're desperate and ready for him to close the gap. You part your lips, a breathless plea barely escaping them when Terry finally makes the move. He presses his mouth against the head before enveloping you in a slow, torturous manner that makes your knees buckle.

Without breaking eye contact, Terry hooks a hand around the base of your shaft, stroking slowly as his tongue flicks over the tip. His thumb rubs gently where the elastic had bitten into your skin, soothing the grooves there. You barely have time to register the sensation before his lips move further down your length, his mouth stretching as he takes more of you in.

Your hand instinctively reaches for his head, but Terry is still in control. He tightens his grip on your hips, silently commanding you to stay still.

Terry's movements grow more intense, and your hand slips to his shoulders for stability. Without warning, he pulls you deeper into his mouth, his throat tightening around you. Your body convulses, and a ragged moan erupts from your belly. Terry holds you there, hands gripping your waist firmly, and you know there's no way out until he’s confident he has delivered you.

When he finally pulls back, the cool air hits your wet skin, and you're left panting. But he doesn't stop. He wipes his lips with the back of his palm, watching your reaction, before diving back in. His hands grip your thighs, pulling you closer, forcing you to surrender completely to him.

You feel the heat rising, your face flushed and body ready to give in. You beg him to finish you off, but Terry only hums in response, savoring the power he has over you.

It’s a sickening sexual cruelty, but he eventually picks up speed again, working you harder and faster. At last, climax crashes over you. You erupt with a booming cry, rivaling the roar of fanatics and audiences you entertain. Terry takes you well, welcoming the hot spurts of spend that’d been pent up inside you.

When he finally releases you, you're left gasping, barely able to stand. Terry rises to his feet, his lips glistening, and pulls you into a rough kiss. You can taste yourself, and it only serves to turn you on even further.

He smirks down at you, his breath heavy against your skin, before murmuring, "Told you I'd get you right."

The water in the tub remains a comfortable temperature, and the suds haven’t completely dissipated. Terry cradles you from behind, your body situated in between his legs. He swiftly dips the washcloth beneath the surface before bringing it across your back, gently bathing you, just as he promised he would. Your eyes flutter closed, and you cock your head backward to rest on his shoulder.

Terry takes the opportunity to kiss along your shoulders, and a familiar electricity shoots through you, reminding you that you’re still processing the pleasure. There’s a quiet stillness in the bathroom, sharply contrasting with the wet, obscene sounds that were bouncing off the walls several minutes ago. You bask in it—in everything.

Terry kept his word to you, which will undoubtedly deepen trust and add an all new layer to your relationship. What isn’t new, however, is the care and concern that he displayed tonight. Rather it is renewed in each time he finds you functioning below normal.

You don’t need to look to know that your boyfriend is surveying you, clearly curious about your state of being at the moment. A warm smile stretches over your face, and you angle your head to display it to Terry. He returns the gesture with a grin of his own, visibly reassured.

Terry resumes his acts of love, lulling you into relaxation. You find the pressure in your head has lifted, and your once tight chest is now loose, rising and falling naturally. You glance back at the man again, never having to make a request. His lips find yours, and finally, you can exhale.

[libraford]

They're not perfect, but they're made out of trash.

One of my pet peeves as a parks employee was finding bottle caps in birds nests and waterways. And as a big drinker of soda I realize how many bottle caps I collect over the course of the month.

Learned that hdpe, the type of plastic that bottle caps are made from, is the plastic kfen used in 3D printers, and can be melted down and reformed.

It's not easy go get them into shapes. The plastic doesn't pour like a liquid but instead makes a tacky goo. You have to press it into the mold while it's hot.

But it's neat! And maybe if I find bottle caps in the wild I can clean them off and make them into things.

Not sure what to do with these ones, though.

[tvseries-writings]

Bad addiction

Plot: After an interrogation gone wrong, it is hard not to fall back into old habits and make questionable choices

TW: alcohol addiction, past suicide attempt, depression

Wandanat x Bioquake (Jemma x Daisy) x Bobbi x reader

Many people say that silence is the most deafening sound, more so than any other sound, even more so than the sound of a mine being blasted to extract the precious minerals it contains. And now, as you sit in one of the chairs at the kitchen table, looking down at the still-unbroken bottle of vodka in the complete silence that surrounds the room, you realize that these people are right.

It is 3:45 a.m. on a dreary Saturday morning, and that boy's face, imprinted in your mind, has kept you from sleeping and at the same time made you open the bus locker that Jemma had diligently locked as soon as she learned of your "not-so-little" problem.

In your world, everyone has tattooed on their body the first words their soul mate will say when they first meet.

You have to admit that in the unhappy and violent family you grew up in, it was no big deal to have five different phrases tattooed on your back due to some hideous flaw in the system. Two soul mates was abnormal enough, but five? Inconceivable, and Mark, your stepfather, had reminded you of it over and over again until one fine day he died of a heart attack. Of course, the moment he had collapsed in front of you, you hadn't run for help... Besides, they say there is no such thing as karma.

Bobbi was the first of the five mysterious soul mates you met and fell madly in love with. It was Bobbi who brought you into S.H.I.E.L.D. shortly after recruiting Daisy (then Skye), and who finally put a face to two of the people whose words she had tattooed on her right forearm.

"I want to be your sponsor, I want you to get better."

It was Bobbi who helped you out of the maelstrom that had engulfed you, who helped you to what would become six full years of sobriety. Six years without a single drop of your trusty friend alcohol in your stomach. She became your sponsor, was with you day and night, held you while you puked your guts out in the filthy bathroom of a bar at five in the morning, and whispered tough words to you when you told her you wanted to quit. You don't know where you'd be without her. In fact, you don't know where you'd be without all of them. Jemma, Bobbi, Daisy, Wanda, and Natasha are your rock and always will be. But today, today you have to forget and they may be your rock but unfortunately they have far too many demons to face and yours you might as well keep to yourself.

With a knot in your stomach and nausea, you uncork the bottle. The pungent smell of vodka burns your sinuses as you carefully place the cap on the counter. The concave side facing down, just like at the bar. Your fingers tighten around the thinnest part, the contact of your skin with the cold glass makes you shiver, and for a moment, just a single moment, you think you don't want to throw away these six long years of sacrifice, and then... then the boy's face hits you like a slap in the face. Actually, the slap would hurt a lot less.

He was just a boy, a young soldier molded by Hydra who had killed himself to give in during your interrogation. You had been too harsh and too slow to stop him, and you had not stopped him, and he had broken his right cheekbone, causing the small cyanide capsule placed there, just below the surface, to rupture. That boy was walking around with a time bomb between his eye and his nose, and he had done it voluntarily, killing himself with that same bomb. He had killed himself in front of you, his name was Gideon and he had just turned nineteen. And he was dead, he was dead because you were not focused enough, because you were the one who pushed him to do it and now he was gone. He should have had his whole life ahead of him, he had just been subjugated, but now, now there was no chance of redemption for him. So you punished yourself, nothing new, the bullet in your right leg is proof of that...even though you had stopped the bleeding by now. You just needed to punish yourself, that's all. And the bottle you hold in your fingers serves the same purpose as the bullet.

"What are you doing?"

The sound is so sudden and unexpected that you let go of the bottle and it shatters on the floor of the bus. The plane continues its course as if nothing had happened. How fascinating machines are, so emotionally numbing and yet indispensable.

Bobbi approaches you slowly, as if afraid to frighten you. Her hair is disheveled and her expression is a mixture of concern and weariness. You swallow, begin to shake your head and fall to your knees, repeating the words "I'm sorry" and "I'm sorry" as you fiercely pick up the shards of glass from the bottle.

"Stop or you'll get hurt."

The blonde girl is not even in time to say these words before a piece of glass gets stuck in your hand, causing a deep cut that begins to bleed profusely. You don't notice and Bobbi is scared to death. You don't feel the pain and, on the contrary, you continue to clear your mind.

Perhaps you have become a machine too, emotionally numb. Damn, how you want it; to feel no more pain - isn't that the human dilemma?

Bobbi snaps forward, tired of seeing you hurt again and again, and grabs your wrists with her hands to stop you; it works. You suddenly freeze, avoiding eye contact and not saying a word. Bobbi never loses sight of you for a minute as she gets up to get a cloth to dab the wound and stop the bleeding.

You stay like this for about ten minutes, in silence, while Bobbi bandages your wound with two stitches for "safety". He wraps your hand, but when he is done, he does not pull away, contrary to what you expected. Instead, she tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, making your eyes meet before breaking the silence.

"Do you ou want to tell me what happened?"

You always said that Bobbi, as an alternative to super badass spy, might as well have been a psychologist (as well as a model, of course). In fact, her tone is exactly what one would expect from a psychologist; gentle but detached. In a warm but cool clarity of action. In the art of weighing words that only Bobbi is capable of, and in which she is the first even to Jemma.

When she realizes you have no intention of answering, her hand quickly finds your leg.

"Have you been drinking?"

You bite your lip and shake your head slowly.

A small smile curls her lips as she leans in to plant a kiss on your forehead.

"Well... you did good rockstar."

Bobbi rests her forehead against yours, caressing your cheeks as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

"We're both tired and need to sleep, especially you. I'm not dropping the subject, and it's definitely something we'll discuss in the morning, but until then, until then, we're going to bed with the others. And I don't want to hear any objections."

You follow her, whatever she wants, you're going to give it to her. You owe it to her after the shit you wanted to do tonight; not that you wouldn't have done it if you had gone back. But now, now is a thought that has to be put off until the morning.

Bobbi tucks you in and wraps her arms around your sides, hugging you from behind. Your nose breathes in the lavender scent of Diasy and the vanilla scent of Wanda as Nat's soft snoring and Jemma's recovered words accompany you into the world of Morpheus.

.........................................................................................

As soon as you wake up, the weight of the conversation you're likely to have with your soul mates hits you harder than you'd like. And if you hate getting up on other days, today is even harder.

You get out of bed and walk down the hall with the same agony as a condemned man on his way to the gallows.

No, a condemned man is better off than you. At least he has the consolation of death; you, on the other hand, have only the certainty of a head-spanking from your girls.

It's barely 10 a.m., and your girls' voices echo down the narrow, cold hallway leading to the kitchen. As soon as your head pokes through the door, the voices stop.

"Hey."

Your stomach turns as you sit down in the only empty chair.

Wanda is at the stove, Natasha behind her, trying to help, even though you all know the Russian spy is anything but a good cook. Instead, Daisy, Jemma and Bobbi are all three at the table. Needless to say, all eyes are on you.

Wanda places a stack of pancakes on a plate in the middle of the table and with a shy smile invites you to help yourself to her delicious masterpieces.

You are not hungry. The silence between you is so strange, so different... that it has created a knot in your stomach. You are sure that if you even tried to take a bite of Wanda's pancakes, you would immediately run to the bathroom and throw up.

It is not you who breaks the silence, nor is it Bobbi; contrary to what you might have expected, it is Daisy who does so. Well, maybe you should have seen it coming.

"How could you even think that?"

You know very well that it is not a question. The others know it too.

The young superheroine wants to know the reason that almost made you break your promise.

Not that you could forget that promise. How could you?

It's hard to forget the feel of your girls' damp, heavy clothes and the sting of their deeply disappointed stares as you limped into the foyer of your simple, unassuming Manhattan apartment, staggering around with a bottle of vodka in your right hand and a gun in the other with only one bullet in the clip. It is hard to forget the look of terror on her face as you squeeze the trigger three times in a row, the cold metal of the barrel burning your temple. It is impossible to forget their screams as Natasha lunges at you, at the exact moment when you pull the damn trigger for the fourth time in front of their disbelieving, frightened, terrified eyes, and the bullet lodges on the wall behind you; inches from your head, as the gun, now unloaded, is kicked away from the Russian spy. It is impossible to forget the promise you made to them about never touching even a drop of alcohol again.

Over time, you have learned so many terrible things that you have trouble falling asleep at night. And when they say that addictions of any kind don't change a person...they lie. Fuck, how they lie. Lying bastards in an age of lies. An addiction changes you. No choking.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, I - yesterday was hard, the mission - I'm sorry."

You don't look up, you don't meet the eyes that you learned to love and accept only after a long time. You don't have the courage, you can't look at the most important people in your life, knowing that you made them suffer again. How many more times will you have to hurt them before they realize they no longer want you in their lives?

Bobbi sighs and shakes her head slowly. He gives you a small smile, just a hint of the one you loved before anyone else. She squeezes your thigh and reaches her hand out from under the table.

"We're not mad, we're just worried rockstar."

"Bobbi's right, Detka, we are scared that what happened years ago might happen again."

Wanda plays with the rings you exchanged when you all decided to move in together.

Natasha doesn't speak; she just watches you in silence. So does Jemma.

Daisy, on the other hand, seems on the verge of exploding, and that's exactly what she does.

"You can't do this to us again, okay? Do you know how long it took us to get over that? We still have nightmares about that night and you know it! How could you even think of drinking? You had to talk to us about it, you had to..."

Bobbi interrupts the inhuman, wrapping her arm around her hips and holding her close as she plants small kisses on the top of her head.

"He killed himself right in front of me, Daisy! He was a young boy, he had his whole life ahead of him and I didn't stop him!"

You slam your hand down on the kitchen counter, carefully away from your soul mates, using so much force that the deep cut you made the night before reopens and the bandage quickly soaks with blood.

A small grimace crosses your face as soon as your hand hits the marble surface.

"Y/n!"

Jemma takes your hand between her own, examining the wound medically and glancing at Bobbi as Wanda runs to the first aid kit in the bathroom.

"Honey, it's not your fault. The only culprit in all of this is Hydra. Yes, the boy was young, but he was aware of his choices."

Natasha strokes your back as Jemma uses needle and thread to sew up the cut on your palm. Jemma is about to put the fourth back on when you pull your hand away from her loving care and turn away from your girls.

"Y/n, please come back, I'm not done yet."

You look away; your left arm falls back at your side and small drops of blood run down your hand and fall to the floor. Your only desire now is to hold on to the bottle and drink until you see the empty bottom. You do not deserve their love, let alone their understanding.

"You're thinking very hard, detka," Wanda whispers, holding out her hand to you, and when you don't take it, intertwining your fingers, the hurt look on the Sokovian's face makes your heart clench.

"I thought I had overcome my addiction, and yet when some event shakes me, I am still in the grip of my emotions and it sucks....You want to know if I still want to drink? Yes, it gets stronger and stronger and it will never go away. That's the problem, I... I don't know if I can live with that for the rest of my life.

You all feel the small gasp that leaves the telepath's lips as she looks into your mind.

"Last night I... I took your gun," you whisper, turning your gaze to Natasha, "I know the password to the safe where you hide it; besides, it's not hard, just remember the day you first came into my life, and yes, yesterday I took the gun and put it to my temple, but I didn't pull the trigger, I didn't, okay? Just like I didn't touch the bottle of alcohol in front of me, so yes, I'm not okay, I'm shaken by what happened and part of me will always want to end it, but I'm not going to make you go through this again. I love you too much to hurt you like that again."

You scratch nervously at your wound, pinching your stitches before a gentle hand stops you. Jemma takes your hand back and makes the final stitches as the girls surround you.

"It's going to be okay honey, we're going to get through this too, but you need to go back and see Dr. Garner."

You sigh and shake your head before being stopped by a rather pissed off inhuman.

"I don't think you have a choice, so you're going to do what we say, okay?"

You sigh, nodding slightly as you begin to find the steel floor beneath your feet particularly interesting.

"Y/n, where did you leave the gun?"

Bobbi whispers and the question that has been hanging in the air until now is asked.

You teleport to your bedroom and retrieve the gun from its hiding place, where it had been masterfully concealed among some of your old clothes, and then Teleport back to the kitchen and hand the gun to Bobbi. The blonde takes it and slides the magazine out of the black Glock she holds in her hands, and when she does, your heart stops. You didn't think he would check.

"Y/n...? One bullet is missing-"

Daisy grabs the clip before Bobbi can finish her sentence,

"Are you fucking serious? You did this? You lied to our faces?!"

"I, it's not what it looks like."

Your throat goes dry as you look for the nearest chair to sit in; you wrinkle your nose as the bandage you've been so busy tightening around your thigh rubs painfully against the wound. And while the other girls are too busy trying to figure out what's going on, Wanda reads your mind and her eyes go wide as she falls to her knees in front of you. The other girls look at her with confusion and concern before the Sokovian speaks.

"Detka, Detka, where is the wound?"

Your breath catches and you freeze. They can't take away the pain you feel, they can't - you don't deserve the relief, you don't.

"N-no! Me, it's okay, I took care of it, I'm fine."

Natasha, who had been silent until that moment, steps forward and pulls your pants down before you can even think of stopping her.

The blood-soaked bandage shifts to reveal the bleeding, red wound; an ongoing infection, most likely -- after all, you didn't put any disinfectant on it, and the only thing you cared about was wrapping it tightly with a bandage so you wouldn't lose too much blood. You don't even know if the bullet got out, but considering your teleportation skills, it probably did. The only reason you don't stay naked every time you teleport is because Fitz made all your clothes out of a dwarf material that apparently allows you to stay clothed.

"Damn it!"

Natasha says, leaning over your thigh and looking at Jemma, urging her to get the first aid kit. The biochemist runs to the bathroom and returns in less than a minute with the kit in her hands. You kneel down next to the former Russian spy before putting on your gloves and cutting off the now completely useless blindfold.

Bobbi walks over to you and places a hand on your forehead to check your temperature before asking Natasha to hand her the thermometer.

"She's warm, I think the wound is giving her an infection."

Bobbi puts the thermometer to your lips, and when you make it clear that you are not going to take your temperature, Bobbi raises her right eyebrow and looks at you intently.

"Rockstar, I don't want to force you to open your lips, but you really messed up, your health is not the best right now and we're really worried, so please, please... help us help you, okay?"

Bobbi's voice breaks as her look of pain and concern finally makes you realize how much this, how much YOU are costing them...so you do everything they tell you and a full twenty-five minutes pass before you are finally patched up and lying on a cot in the infirmary.

"Why did you do this? Are you... do we have to take you off missions? Are you trying to hurt yourself?" Natasha approaches the edge of the bed, resting a hand on your good leg.

"Obviously, considering what he did."

Daisy blurts out, and the fact that she relies so heavily on her sarcasm lets you know that she is genuinely worried about you.You bite your lip, a small sigh rippling the air around you as you trace the bandage on your hand with your thumb, distracting yourself from the conversation you are about to have.

"I... just wanted... I needed to feel physical pain, and not the kind of pain that tears you up inside. I just needed to feel nothing, just for a little while...I'm sorry."

Jemma squeezes the IV bag and, after a final glance at the monitor showing your blood pressure and heart rate, sits down in the empty chair to your left before taking your hand between her own.

"We're going to help you, okay? It's going to be okay, we're going to be with you every step of the way, and we're going to get through this, just like we did before."

"But we need you to help us, rock star."

"And you need to tell us how you feel, especially if it makes you do things...dangerous for yourself, detka" Wanda comes over and gives you a small smile with eyes full of concern, just like the other girls.

Daisy crosses her arms under her breasts and you see worry and anger distorting her face and then, to the surprise of you all, the inhuman bursts into tears. Sobs shake your body and your need to embrace her makes you get out of bed and reach out to her, hiding a grimace of pain.

"Dee, Daisy, hey, it's okay love, I'm sorry, I know how that night left a deep scar on you, I... when certain thoughts come, I can't think straight... I can't think at all, damn it. I don't... I don't think about how much damage what my mind is telling me to do could do to you. I'm sorry, my love."

Daisy throws herself into your arms, causing you to fall back onto the cot as the inhuman wets your shirt with her tears.

"I know what it feels like to want the pain to stop, many of us do it”. Your body stiffens at the thought that at least once both Natasha and Wanda and Daisy felt exactly what you felt and are feeling now, "but you are not alone, I know you feel alone but you are not. We are here and we love you so much it hurts..."

"I am so sorry...I, I will try to get better, I want to, for you and to finally be well without having to resort to pain or alcohol."

You whisper, leaving kisses in Daisy's hair as you hold her close. Your girls stand still, letting the inhuman vent before they too join your embrace.

They say nothing, they don't need to. The fact that they are there, their warmth is more than enough and they bring you a slight relief and the burden you have been carrying for so long finally lightens... at least for now.

Thanks for reading! Spoiler: some poly!aos x wandanat x reader is coming! Comment, like and support me on ko-fi. Have a great day!

Taglist: @wandanatsbaby @bioquake-archives @bioquakeweek @daisyjohnsonx @wandanatsgirlfriend @chaekhan @station19 @resilientpendragon @so-no-kissing-then @thearchpitbullmx @ashadash0904 @kingshitonly @alwaysgoodnight @callistic @xjule @yuleni18 @simpforwandanat @alexxislexi @mrsdanversromanoff @coollemonsaresour @hushed-woodsman @razorscooteer @eponine-xx @maniacallinc @michelle170 @classyig @elenaguarnieri @scarletwidow @tati3001 @cristin-rjd @your-my-mission @mr-nicely @hi-i-1 @anniethurs @ktstwice @scarlet-raccoon @maria-403 @goldfishthegr8 @wandanatfan @looiegirl-blog @bioquake-blog @daisyjohnsonx

[bonesxbows]

The Other Line (Hancock x Reader)

Masterlist

There's not enough food in your stash for the both of you so you try to give what you have left to Hancock instead of yourself. He isn't having any of it though and insists you at least share, and no isn't an option with him when it comes to your wellbeing.

(WARNINGS) - choosing to starve - past body image issues mentioned

I wrote this within a few hours and idk if I'm really satisfied with it but I figured I'd publish it anyway. I swear I'm working on longer fics I just always get sidetracked lol. Shout out though to all the people leaving comments on here and on Ao3, you guys keep my motivation sky high, you have no idea how much I appreciate each and every one of them :)

-

A blown-out house, still sort of standing. Four walls and a roof with minor damage was considered the peak of shelters nowadays, so neither of you complained as you walked inside. You had made the executive decision to stay here for the night, although Hancock wouldn’t have argued with you either way. It was small inside, destroyed wooden planks blocked the path upstairs, leaving the two of you to what once was a modest kitchen, dining room, and living room amalgamation. You placed your gear on the table while Hancock scoped the place out. It was a ritual of his by now, double-checking every square inch to make sure it was safe. 

“Grub and then bed? I’m beat, and we’ve still got a long ways to go,” you told him, checking your pip-boy to see the progress you had made on your journey. It was going well so far, but it would still be at least another day’s hike before you reached where you needed to go. He hummed to himself, satisfied that the place was now confirmed empty except for the two of you. 

“You know I ain’t picky. I’ll get the blankets set up while you sort that out, okay?” he spoke it like a question but he didn’t wait for your reply before he made his way over to the couch, grabbing your bedrolls and quickly placing a soft kiss on your forehead as he passed by. As soon as he was occupied with his task he had assigned himself you checked your food supplies. The results were what you had been fearing; you were running dangerously low. You knew you should have double-checked the stores the two of you had passed on your way here. It would have delayed you a little, sure, but it was worth it over traveling on an empty stomach. It was too little too late now, it was way too dangerous to travel in the dark to scavenge more supplies. You would have to make do with what you had and then hope you could find more food on the way tomorrow. 

You checked around the kitchen, not finding much. The place had already been picked mostly clean, probably by other travelers and scavvers. You were lucky to find a bottle of nuka-cola tucked in the back of the refrigerator, but that was where your luck ended. You shook it to see if bubbles still formed against the glass, checking for discoloration and mold as the liquid sloshed around. It looked okay, so you mentally added it to your stash of goods. 

“Need any help?” Hancock called from behind the back of the sofa. His voice pulled you out of your head. 

“No I’ve got it just…give me a second,” you told him, making up your mind and grabbing the last canned item you had in your pack along with one of the forks you always brought along with you. 

“No worries sunshine, take your time,” he replied so nonchalantly, oblivious to your current supply struggles. You watched as he kicked his feet over the arm of the sofa, the toes of his boots pointing towards the ceiling. You sighed and walked over to him, canned food and bottle of nuka-cola in hand. He shifted to make room for you on the couch when he saw you round the corner.

“Here’s what we have.” you handed him the can and the fork, plopping down next to him and using the wooden part of the couch’s arm to pop the bottle cap off of your soda. He used his knife to pry the lid off of the can, digging the fork into the mystery meat inside and taking a bite. He passed the can to you once he started chewing but you just shook your head. 

“Whaddaya mean ‘no’? You gotta eat sunshine.” his words were slurred from the food in his mouth but you still refused to take the can from his hands. His scarred forehead furrowed when you kept refusing. 

“Hancock it’s okay, really. I’m not that hungry anyway. You go ahead and eat.” you tried to dissuade him. But he wasn’t buying it, not when he knew you too well. 

“Is it another one of those days again? I’ve told you before sugar your body is perfect just the way it is. Nothin’s ever gonna change that in my mind. I’d rather ya eat and keep your strength up than-” 

“It’s nothing like that Hancock.” you stopped him before he went on another rant about how much he loved you just as you are. You couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto your face though. “I’m okay, thank you though,” you told him. You could see relief flood across his face. 

“So then what’s wrong?” he asked again. 

“We don’t have enough supplies to be feeding two people. So I had to make a choice and fortunately for you, you fall higher up on the list of my priorities than myself. Go ahead and eat, I’ll be okay for one night.” you explained the situation to him but it looked like he had stopped listening halfway through because as soon as you finished your sentence he had a forkful of the canned meat right by your lips. 

“I just said we-” 

“ ‘Don’t have enough food for two people.’ Yeah, I heard ya. Tough shit, I ain’t gonna let you go hungry, even if it is for just one night. So open up.” he twirled the fork in small circles to emphasize his words. You opened your mouth to rebuttal him again but he used that opportunity to get the fork into your mouth. You scowled but obediently began chewing. He smiled, satisfied with his task accomplished. “You won’t go to bed hungry, not while I’m around and can do somethin’ about it.” he stabbed the meat again, helping himself to another forkful. You were caught speechless, even when you were done chewing, you had run out of words. You had been prepared to go to bed with an empty stomach in order to keep him happy and healthy, but at the same time, he was willing to do the same for you. 

The two of you spend the rest of the night splitting the contents of the can, and at some point, you shared the nuka-cola you had found with him too. Neither of your tummies were full, but your hearts were with a new realization of just how much you cared about one another. The couch wasn’t big enough for the two of you to lay side by side, but Hancock didn’t seem to mind because as soon as the two of you had finished eating he scooped you up on top of him, lacing his arms around you to hold you close. You spent the rest of the night curled up against him, listening to his heartbeat beneath you as the two of you fell asleep. Maybe you'd be able to find more supplies tomorrow, or maybe you wouldn’t. Either way, Hancock was determined to take care of you in any way he could. 

[yueyimold]

2 component toothpaste tube flip cap mold

Bi injection technology can be applicated to the toothpaste tube packaging of the caps. By this way, no need to do the heat seal of the aluminized paper on the tube bottle mouth part. Now we YUEYI did trialed on the 2k shampoo cap mold, and achieved the good result. China 2k mold maker, offer 2 component toothpaste cap mold, bicolors HDPE tube bottle cover in mold close, multi shot toothpaste topper mold, rotary mold squeezer bottle flips mold.

Web: www.yueyimold.com WhatsApp& WeChat: +86 183 5761 6586 Mail: lucia@yueyimold.com

[gudmould]

Design of injection mold for drinking bottle cap with internal thread

1 Drinking water bottle cap structure Structure of cap of a drinking bottle for infants is shown in Figure 1. Height is about 75 mm. There are 2 handles on outer surface. Maximum distance between 2 handles is 127 mm. Main part of bottle cap is a circular structure with an outer diameter of φ66 mm. Inner surface has 2 turns of internal threads. Internal thread specification is M58 mm. Length of…

[saltinesinsoup]

dogpeacesign.jpeg im so good at keeping my water bottles clean (lie)

[kaxenart]

Kaxen's BJD Hardcap Wigmaking 2024 Version

Pros of hard wig cap style:

The best method for short hairstyles (and I am a masochist who loves short swept-back hairstyles)

Are you the kind of person who gets tilted over lace front wigs having a line of extra net or not fitting your doll's forehead? This wig will fit and you can chop the wig cap even closer.

I hate hand sewing, so I never do sewn wefts with soft wigcaps, and sewn wefts don't work well for exposed hairlines so GLUE, GLUE, BABY.

Cons of hard wig cap style:

This wig will not fit on another doll unless it's maybe from the same company or has a really generic head-shape

Tools

Nonstick mat - Michaels sells Messy Mats which are very thin but stiff film mats that are nonstick. Silicone mats for pet bowls are often very cheap! A lot of craft-specific silicone mats have more price mark-up despite being the exact same thing.

Silicone spatula - for spreading glue. Just the generic silicone tools are fine. Comes in different sizes.

Glue of choice - Different glues react differently to different fibers and different colors. Pick whatever you like that has a slight flex to it and is waterproof once it's dry. If you prefer to style hair with high temperatures (especially the boiling water method), pick something that will resist high temps.

Glues I personally hate passionately: Beacon Adhesives Fabri-tac.

Why Fabri-tac sucks:

Smells terrible

Warps over time, wigs have literally stopped fitting the doll it was for

Rock hard when dry, literally the worst option for fabric???????????

Glue bottle cap always gets fucked up and useless.

Like jesus christ just get some fray check if you need fabric glue

Slicker brush: No matter how thorough you are with glue, you will have loose fiber. Comb it out. Buy two if you want to be able to have a poor man's wool carder so you can re-align fibers and use them later. WHY ARE WOOL CARDERS SO EXPENSIVE?

Fibers -

Suri alpaca: Very fine strands, low gloss, can use hair irons on it

Tencel: very fine strands, high gloss, can use hair irons on it, plant-based. Great for 1/6 scale and Anime Bullshit hair

Viscose (not pictured): very fine strands, high gloss, crinkles like hell if it gets wet, can use hair irons on it, plant-based

Silk (the silver wig lower down the post): very fine strands, high gloss, can use hair irons on it

Mohair: medium strands (thinner if it's kid mohair), high gloss, can use hair irons on it. Various levels of curly.

Synthetic: medium strands, high or low gloss depending on what you get, ymmv on hair irons check before hand how much temperature it can handle. Already made of plastic so plastic-y glue doesn't make it look weirder. Comes in the longest strands.

Wool roving (not pictured): fine strands, no gloss, doesn't really look like straight hair, but works well for styles like dreads.

Acrylic yarn (not pictured): fine strands, gloss level varies, cheap, but you pay in "spent all afternoon unraveling yarn to brush it out" MICROPLASTICS BAD.

I looked at combed mohair prices and it made me scared. How much fiber do I need?

1/3 heads (8-9in circumference): 1/2 oz is a comfortable amount for shorter styles and more the longer the hair will be

1/4 heads (6-7.5in circumference): 1/4-1/3 oz.

1/6 Mature tinies (3in circumference): 1/4 oz, the usual minimum order, will be a ton

Processing mohair yourself is cheaper, but it's a lot of cleaning and combing.

Making the wig base

Fabric base: sheer woven fabric or thin stretch fabrics (pantyhose, mesh hair nets, etc) in a color that does not clash too much with the skintone of your doll

The smaller the doll and the shorter the hair style (especially exposed hairlines!) the thinner you want to go to avoid seeing the wig cap too easily.

Cover the doll with plastic wrap, tighten the fabric as much as possible to mold to head, spread glue around so fabric will stay in this shape.

Putting rubber bands around ears helps shape.

Putting the fiber on

I'm pretty sure preparing wefts beforehand by gluing them on a nonstick mat and then cutting off pieces to stick on the wigcap is easier for exact placement, but I think that takes too long, so I just glue that straight on the wigcap.

I prefer not to use sewn wefts because I don't like that chunky line.

Work back to front and/or wherever the hair parts.

Hold up a small lock of hair and then use the silicone tool to swab a lil glue on it.

The smaller the doll, the smaller bundles you want to add the hair in so the bulk level isn't too crazy. Not as big of a deal for 1/3 scale dolls, the biggest deal with 1/6 dolls.

Hairline and hair parting methods

Rooting

I use the rooting tool from Dollyhair (but you can basically use any small hand tool with an adjustable chuck that can hold the rooting needle)

Pros:

Imitates growing hair

More versatile in styling options if you root a large sections of the wigcap because then the hair can flow in different directions without exposing which way it was glued

Cons:

Slow, the more realistic you want to go, the smaller each root plug should be. I use size 8 or size 6 needle on 1/3 dolls, but I could probably go smaller.

Tiny bits of hair and glue inside the gap may affect the fit of the wig cap.

Takes three billion years to dry the inside because you will swab glue on the inside of the wigcap and then smoosh the wig cap against plastic wrap on your doll's hair to keep the wig cap properly molded to your doll's head

Works terrible on mature tiny 1/6 wigs

TTRPG Mini Grass Style

Pros:

Fast, just put a daub of glue and slap a tuft on

Hair can be pushed in multiple directions without looking awkward

Cons:

Harder to do with longer hair and thicker fibers, may just tip over before the glue dries. Works better with short suri alpaca or tencel than mohair

Fold Over Method

Pros:

Easy!

Can hide wigcap edges

Cons:

Not realistic

Works worse with stiff fibers that may not lay flat after being folded over (may need heat treatment to work)

Ugly glue zone

Chopping the wig open to cram in fibers where the hair parting is

Pros:

Less ugly glue zone than the foldover method

Cons:

Margin for error for not warping the entire wig cap is not great! More risk than the rooting method.

Wildcard showing up with a steel chair! (mostly because this doesn't really need a separate post)

Flocking + painted edges

Pros:

Fast, swab on the adhesive and shake a ketchup bottle of fiber powder on it.

Useful for shaved hair

Cons:

Well, now you have Craft Herpes (glitter, fiber dust, y'know how it is...)

Not all doll sculptors have very flush headcap boundaries

Gotta redo the face-side of the flocking whenever you want to change the face-up