#roller drying machine

[tradebirddigital]

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[ego13]

CRIMINAL ── yjm.

─ having cheated in one of the underground casinos, you didn't think you'd be caught red-handed and punished in a rather interesting way.

now playing : Taemin - Criminal

warnings, sensitive content: semi-rough sex, too much dirty talk, gp!karina, sex with strangers, sex in public places, dry humping, fingering (reader recieving), facefucking, deeptroating, praise kink, hair pulling, pet names (kitty, good girl, princess), nipple play, spanking (even too much), riding, hickeys, breeding kink.

word count : 3,2k

The aroma of whiskey, pricey perfume, and the slightest hint of cigarette smoke clinging to the velvet upholstery filled the air inside the casino. Its deep crimson fabric, adorned with swirling gold filigree, hushed every footfall as the main character stepped onto the luxurious carpet. With the occasional outburst of jubilant laughter or the moan of someone who had just lost a fortune, the sound of jingling slot machines filled the room like a fascinating symphony.

Crystals in the glistening chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling caught the light and dispersed it in stunning patterns on the marble floors close to the entryway. There appeared to be movement in every direction as cocktail waiters with trays full of glasses and elegant, shimmering gowns moved fluidly between the tables.

Men in fitted suits sat at the blackjack and poker tables with stone faces, their palms hovering over chips, while others, more relaxed, flung their bets in with reckless abandon. As you navigated the maze of flashing lights and velvet ropes, you passed tourists who were ecstatic and high rollers whose eyes glowed with either triumph or despair.

The sound of falling cubes was drowned out by the clamor of electronic jingles and whispered talks as a dice game broke out in cheers to the left. A huge indoor waterfall poured into a glistening pool as the casino extended past the main floor and past the high-limit salons where the real kings and queens of the gaming industry played.

Oh, you clearly had a very interesting evening planned.

You walked to one of the tables, which stood almost in the very center of the gaming room, sitting down opposite a man unknown to you in an expensive suit who looked at you as nothing more than easy prey, well, you're clearly not against playing along and pretending to be a fool, knowing that he'll give you more than a few for one game.

"Well, shall we play, princess? Or is Texas Hold'em not suitable for girls like you?" He chuckled, making the men standing at the table laugh with this phrase, and you clearly caught a sign of falsehood in this feigned laughter, well, it looks like you're not the only one lying today.

You were playing with the stack of chips next to you with your fingers, which the man noticed, raising his eyebrow as if offering to place a bet with you.

"All in," you said so calmly, as if you were trying to strangle him with your indifference, to which his eyes widened, but then his face broke into a satisfied smile, after which he pushed his chips towards the dealer.

"Such a delicate girl, but she plays for big money," he said before taking a small sip from his glass of whiskey, hearing the ice cubes touching each other, creating a pleasant sound.

He drank the same half-full whiskey, never taking more than a sip, while a server, well-paid for his quiet, made sure his glass was never empty. The room was buzzing with excitement as the city's elite gathered to watch the match.

Following the face-down dealing of two private cards, a number of community cards were positioned in the middle. The choices to bet, raise, or fold changed with each round. You're was planning on read the man, playing on his confidence, and laying the ideal trap were more important than simply using the hand.

Because of the fact, that you first played conservatively, he was able to win a few hands, which boosted his confidence. Feeling in charge, the wealthy man laughed and threw back another drink. You patiently waited for the right time to happen, allowing him to believe it. With one ace on the table and one in your hand, they had the starting point for an almost invincible full house. Yet you remained composed, hardly responding, as though fortune had finally shifted in your favor. The fake hesitancy was misunderstood by him, who grinned. In the absence of weakness, he perceived it.

As you called the bet and set down your cards, the room fell silent. The murmurs followed by few gasps. Three aces, two kings, a full house. Fucking amazing. When the reality struck, his confidence crumbled and he went pale. Someone had played him. Exactly. In your direction, the dealer shoved the pile of chips. Just enough to acknowledge your achievement, but not enough to leave a trace, you glanced at the rigged dealer and gave him a little, contented smile.

He shook his head incredulously and muttered a swear. "You're simply lucky," he whispered. In a silent toast, your merely lifted your glass which a minute earlier had been filled with fresh whiskey by the waiter, who was still obediently standing next to the table, with ease, you uttered, "It's hard to call my talent luck."

You just chuckled, getting up from the table with your glass in your hands, looking for someone else, someone who would once again give you everything they had acquired that evening.

Having noticed a table with several people, you were about to approach it when you felt someone put their hand on your shoulder, turning around, you saw a serious man in a suit, «Security» said the badge that hung on his black formal jacket. This realization made you wince, had you been caught? Had someone noticed that the playing chips were counterfeit?

"You need to go with me," said the man, taking you by the wrist, pulling you, at that moment you morally said goodbye to your friends and loved ones, thinking that you were clearly going to be killed to hell now, but everything changed after a long walk, as it seemed to you, around the entire casino, you were not taken into a dark room, only the sofa stood in the center, and the door behind you closed with a loud bang.

"What a beautiful girl cheating," you heard a rough female voice, the cold look on Jimin's face only intensified as she took in the nervous fidgeting of the girl before her. Her piercing gaze seemed to bore into the very soul of your soul, making her feel even more exposed under the scrutiny of all four women.

"You're really beautiful, It's a pity that you act like a rat," the room felt stiflingly hot, the air heavy with tension and unspoken promises of punishment to come. She smirked, clearly enjoying your discomfort, watching you shudder just from the feeling of the weight of their gaze on your body.

Once again, her hands were on your shoulders, the she smirked, feeling your skin get covered in goosebumps, slightly lowering the straps of your dress, "you know, all girls who behave like this should be punished," you lowered your head in shame, unable to maintain eye contact with them.

"Oh, what a shame, are you really embarrassed?" Jimin smirked at your timid movements, at the way you simply let her take off your dress like a person who had already resigned himself to his burden.

"As for being shy, don't be like that, I'll fuck the crap out of you," Jimin said, grabbing your wrist and forcing you to come closer, looking at the blush on your face with a smirk, "by the way, regarding your punishment..."

She backed away, sitting on the couch and patting her knees as if inviting you to sit down, "bend over, you fucking brat," the rough tone made you feel like your knees were weak, the other girls' hands pushed you to lean on Jimin's lap and bend over, causing them to exclaim your obedience.

A smirk played on Jimin's lips as you approached, the soft pad of her footsteps echoing in the spacious room. She watched, unmoving, as you leaned over her lap, the fabric of your dress riding up you creamy thighs. Her hand, already resting on her thigh, slid higher, fingertips brushing against the exposed skin.

"Oh, aren't you an eager thing?" She said, smirking and leaning closer to examine your body in more detail which made her lick her lips in anticipation, "Good enough to eat," she exclaimed, placing her hand on the bulge that had formed in her pants in such a short time, sighing heavily at the sensation of the touch.

Yu's hand crept further up, grip tightening, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thigh. She leaned in closer, her breath hot against your ear as she hissed, "you better behave yourself so I don't fuck you senseless right now," with that, Jimin delivered a sharp smack to your ass, the sound of it ringing out in the room. She massaged the reddening skin almost immediately after, her touch a confusing mix of punishment and soothing caress.

"Taking her punishment like a good girl, fuck... I can cum just from this view."

Jimin let out a dark chuckle at your whimper, feeling a twisted sense of satisfaction at the way you arched your back, her hand leaving a vivid red mark on the soft, supple skin. She could feel the heat radiating off your skin, could see the goosebumps prickling her flesh from the mix of pain and unwanted pleasure.

"Count it," she said in a rough vouce, raising her hand for another smack as her eyes glinting with a dark, twisted version of affection, Jimin growled, her voice low and threatening. Her hand leaned down on your ass once more, the sound of the smack echoing obscenely in the room.

"O-One!" you sniffled, making her smirk, tears pricked at the corners of your eyes but you blinked them back, not wanting to give Jimin the satisfaction of seeing you cry. Jimin's hand worked methodically, each smack harder than the last, each one leaving a more visible vivid red handprint on your tender skin. She could feel you squirming, could hear your breathy whimpers and ragged counting.

"E-Eight, nine, ten..." You gasped, trying your best to keep up with the relentless pace of Jimin's actions. Your delicate skin was on fire, each smack sending jolts of pain and something shamefully close to pleasure coursing through you.

Throughout the spanking, Jimin's other hand crept under the hem of your black dress, which during this time has managed to almost completely slide off you, fingernails raking up your thigh, dangerously close to where her legs met.

"Fuck, so wet from being spanked? Such a bad girl you are..." She raised her hand again, letting it hover for a moment, allowing anticipation and trepidation to build in the air between them. Then, with a contented grin, she brought it down hard, striking the same cheek as before. Her hand was relentless, moving from cheek to cheek with mechanical precision, each blow designed to punish and arouse in equal measure.

"Baby, I don't want to see you cry, you know very well that girls who break the rules are always punished," she said, stroking your flushed skin, giving you a few minutes to come to your senses while her other hand slid down to the front, cupping your pussy possessively, feeling the damp heat even through the thin fabric of your panties.

"Fuck... you're so soaked, kitty," She ripped away the flimsy fabric barrier, baring your cunt to the cool air of the room. Her fingers slowly circled your clit with a rough fingertip, feeling it swell and throb against the touch, as her fingers slowly slid inside, curled her fingers just right, knowing she'd found that spongey spot that would make you see stars.

"Such a drenched cunt, holy shit..." She punctuated her words with a particularly hard thrust, burying her fingers as deep as they could go and grinding the heel of her palm against your swollen clit, you let out a choked scream, hips bucking back against Jimin's hand, trying to take her fingers even deeper.

"Oh, aren't you a loud girl?" Jimin encouraged darkly, free hand coming down hard on your ass, leaving another vivid red mark blooming on the abused and sore flesh, she continued her relentless assault, fingers curling and scissoring, rubbing mercilessly against that sensitive bundle of nerves deep inside your walls.

"You're gripping me so tightly..." Jimin growled, feeling your pussy clamp down around her, you teetering on the brink of climax, "gonna cum for me, baby girl?"

She leaned down, teeth sinking into the side of your neck, biting down hard enough to leave a mark. She sucked and licked at the reddening skin, marking her possession, as her fingers never stopped their brutal pumping, fucking into your cunt with a single-minded intensity.

"Right now," with those words, she slammed her fingers in as deep as they could go and ground the heel of her palm against your clit, pushing you over the edge into oblivion. Jimin's other hand came down on your ass with a brutal slap, the sound echoing obscenely in the room.

"Good fucking girl, such a good girl..." She praised darkly, fingers pumping through your orgasm, drawing it out and making it last longer, she continued to grind against your swollen clit, rubbing through the aftershocks, until the you collapsed forward.

"On your knees," she said in a hoarse, rough voice that made you immediately climb off her lap on trembling legs, standing on your own knees, Jimin's hand drifted down, palming herself through her pants. She could feel how hard she was, how much she ached to shove her cock down your eager throat.

"You're going to take it all baby, every. fucking. inch," She punctuated her words by rubbing her clothed erection against your face, letting you feel the size and shape of her as her breath grew heavier, the anticipation building in her chest.

She smirked as she watched you scramble to obey, eagerly tugging at her belt and the button of her pants. The desperation in your movements was palpable, her need to free Jimin's cock an almost vulgar thing.

Jimin tangled her fingers in your hair, gripping the silky strands as she forced you to look at her, slowly and deliberately, Jimin rubbed the swollen head of her dick against your soft lips, smearing them with the musky essence of her arousal.

"Open up, kitty... Let me feel that tight throat of yours," As she spoke, she began to slowly push forward, the thick length of her cock made you to part your lips, invading the warm, wet cavern of your tight throat which you immediately tried to relax. She groaned at the feel of the girl's tongue sliding along her sensitive flesh, the slick heat of her mouth engulfing her.

She began to thrust, dragging her length in and out of your mouth, fucking her face with slow, deliberate strokes. Her heavy balls slapped against your chin with each pump of her hips, a filthy wet sound that echoed obscenely in the room, "Fuck, you're such a little cocksucker, don't you? Fucking hell..."

Yu could feel your throat constricting around her, the tight muscles fluttering as you struggled to accommodate her length. It felt incredible, the way you choked and gagged as you tried to take her more deeper, from the feeling of how she almost touched the back of your fucking throat made your head spin.

Jimin growled in pleasure, fingers tightening in your hair as she began to pick up the pace, fucking your face with increasingly rough, brutal thrusts, her hips moved like a piston, slamming into your throat. Drool leaked from the corners of your stretched mouth, bubbling obscenely as Jimin fucked your throat raw.

"'m getting close," Jimin panted, the hand not tangled in your hair drifting down to grope and squeeze at your breasts, pinching and rolling the stiff peaks between her fingers, with a final, brutal thrust, Yu buried herself balls deep in your mouth, grinding against the back of her throat as she came with a guttural groan.

Thick, hot ropes of cum poured from her spasming head, flooding and forcing you to swallow around the heavy load. As the waves of her intense climax finally began to stop, Jimin slowly withdrew, her softening cock slipping from your abused mouth with a wet pop. She looked down at you, taking in the sight of your flushed face, messy hair, your ruined makeup and the way you gasped and choked as you tried to catch your breath.

She reached out, thumb and forefinger pinching your chin, tilting your face up to meet Jimin's intense gaze. Her eyes were dark, filled with a hunger that promised all sorts of sinful delights. She licked her lips as she stared down at her girl, a slow, filthy grin spreading across her face.

"Oh baby, I think I ruined your makeup..." she smirked, grabbing your wrist only to have you fall back onto her lap, gripping your hips tightly, "while you're riding me - makeup will be the last thing you need right now."

She leaned in, capturing your lips in a filthy, open-mouthed kiss, all clashing teeth and tangling tongues. All the while, her hands continued their sensual assault on your breasts, kneading and massaging the soft, pliant flesh with a reverent hunger.

You sat up slightly, allowing her to slide inside, letting out a low moan into the kiss, causing her to squeeze your hips tighter, deepening it, It made Jimin's cock throb and pulse inside you, the sight and sounds of your pleasure stoking the flames of her own desire.

"Fuuck... tightest pussy ever..." She punctuated her words with a sharp thrust of her hips, slamming up into your dripping cunt. The wet, obscene sound of fucking filled the room, the lewd slap of skin against skin echoing off the walls.

Your whimpers and whines only spurred Jimin on, urging her to grope and tease more roughly, to pinch and tug at the stiff little peaks of your breasts. She could feel them hardening further under her ministrations, could see the pretty pink flush spreading down your neck.

"Such a good girl, taking me so fucking deep like you were made for it..." Jimin thrust up hard and fast, burying herself balls-deep inside your fluttering cunt. She set a rapid, almost punishing pace, fucking up into you with brutal, animalistic intensity.

"Gonna breed you, princess, make you full of my pups, fuck..." She could feel the pressure building, the coil of ecstasy winding tighter and tighter in her core. But she gritted her teeth, determined to hold back, to make you finish first.

With a final, brutal thrust, Jimin buried herself balls-deep inside your spasming cunt. She could feel your release crashing over you in waves as your pussy gripping and rippling around Jimin's thick shaft like a vice.

Jimin's body shuddered and convulsed as her own mind-blowing orgasm ripped through her. A guttural, feral growl tore from her, thick cock pulsing and throbbing as it pumped stream after stream of hot, thick cum deep into your spasming cunt.

"Fuck, fuck fuck!" Her eyes rolling back as she filled you to the brim with her seed. Her hips jerked and spasmed erratically, grinding her cock as deep as physically possible as she rode out the intense waves of pleasure crashing over her.

As the final aftershocks of your mutual orgasms began to subside, Yu slumped back against the couch, pulling your limp, sated body against her own. She wrapped her arms around your trembling body possessively, holding you close as they both struggled to catch their breath.

"Fuck... baby, I hope you're not dead, because I'm not done with your punishment yet..."

[scribefindegil]

Is paper made at home with the blender method really always low quality? I've been wanting to learn to do it for ages and planned on doing so once I had enough space, it seemed like a craft with a relatively low bar of entry that I could do despite my disabilities and a good way to recycle all the junk mail I get, but if it's doomed to be low quality and fall apart it kinda sounds pointless to learn? I mean I never intended to do anything in particular with the paper, the process itself is what made my brain get all "oh I wanna do that", but if I won't even be able to use it to draw or write or give it to someone who can use it for that...idk. Are there ways to modify the shredded paper to pulp method so the paper has a better chance of being useful? Or is that also essentially impossible without a huge expensive machine?

(Also no worries if you don't have the spoons to answer, I always planned on doing my own research before starting and am still going to do that at some point regardless if I decide to actually try or not.)

Quick answer (might investigate more later if the curse lets me): it's going to depend partially on what you use as your base paper and what you're planning to use it for. My background is bookbinding and conservation, where papers need to meet pretty specific quality requirements bc they're used in ways that put them under strain (folding, glueing, being folded and frequently handled, often being the failure point of a binding or repair). Paper that's being used to draw with dry media or as an art object won't be subjected to that kind of stress, so it doesn't matter as much if it's fragile. Things to consider:

Thin sheets of paper will exacerbate the problems; a really thin sheet of blender-made paper might just not be usable, but if you pull chunkier sheets they'll hold up better

Using better-quality paper to begin with will get you a better-quality product. If you have any offcuts of watercolor or printmaking paper or good sketchbook paper, it will work best. Since you mentioned using up junk mail, know that it's probably going to make especially weak paper, though if you use a mixture of papers you can offset that somewhat. If you care about longevity, stay away from newsprint because it's acidic.

Even weak paper usually won't fall apart from basic handling, but it could be very brittle (cracking if you fold it) and not have much abrasion resistance (ripping up if you try to erase pencil lines), so bear that in mind when you're deciding what to do with it. It's also likely to be very fragile when wet.

You can draw or write with dry media on almost any paper, but if you want to use ink you might want to look into sizing. Even good-quality handmade paper is very absorbent and usually needs to be treated with a sizing agent to keep the ink from feathering out. The most common is gelatin, but I'm sure there are others.

The surface might also be very rough, making a pen/brush skip around. Paper can be burnished, which is done industrially with hot rollers and you can do yourself with a bone folder. It's pretty labor-intensive though

You can take advantage of the thickness and texture by making art paper—add tea or dried plants or glitter or little scraps of unpulped paper to your vat! Then the use of the paper is Being Cool so you don't have to worry about what else you can do with it

Also look into pulp painting! It's a technique where you actually *want* overprocessed fiber because you can use it to paint or stencil designs on other pieces of paper that have been couched and pressed but not dried yet. It was one of my favorite techniques to play around with when I was doing papermaking!

TLDR: You can't make really high-quality paper with the blender method, but you can definitely make usable stuff as long as you keep the strengths and limitations of the technique in mind!

[liviawildrose]

𝐥𝐲𝐦𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝟏𝟎𝟏

WHAT IS THE LYMPHATIC SYSTEM?

think of the lymphatic system as your body’s emotional janitor and drainage crew. it’s part of your immune system, and it does the following:

• filters waste, toxins, and pathogens

• moves lymph (a clear fluid) through your body

• helps circulate white blood cells

• absorbs fats from your digestive system

• balances fluids in your tissues

it’s made up of:

• lymph (fluid)

• lymph nodes (filter stations)

• lymphatic vessels (the pipelines)

• spleen, thymus, tonsils, bone marrow (support squad)

your heart pumps blood, but your lymph has no pump. it moves through muscle movement, breath, and manual stimulation. no movement = no drainage = sluggish, bloated, toxic vibes

WHAT IS LYMPHATIC DRAINAGE?

lymphatic drainage is the process of stimulating lymph flow to help it do its job faster and more efficiently. this can be done manually with massage or with tools/devices. it’s like giving your internal plumbing system a nudge.

benefits?

• reduced swelling/inflammation

• glowing skin

• decreased bloating

• boosted immunity

• improved healing post-surgery

• less brain fog

• reduced cellulite appearance

• de-puffing (hello, snatched face + jawline)

WHY YOUR LYMPH SYSTEM LOWKEY RUNS YOUR LIFE

when your lymph is stagnant, it doesn’t just affect your body it affects your mood, energy, skin, digestion, even spiritual flow. (yes, your energy field has drainage, too.)

poor lymph flow can lead to:

• chronic fatigue/ laziness/ procrastination

• frequent colds/infections

• puffy face or limbs

• brain fog

• digestive issues

• poor healing

• acne + skin flare-ups

• fibromyalgia or pain syndromes

this is your sign to stop ignoring your lymph.

SIGNS YOUR LYMPHATIC SYSTEM MIGHT BE CONGESTED

• you wake up puffy AF

• you get sick a lot

• your skin looks dull or acne-prone

• you always feel bloated or heavy

• your eyes feel heavy/tired

• you have sinus issues

• your underarms or groin feel tender (lymph node overload)

• water retention that won’t go away

TYPES OF LYMPHATIC DRAINAGE

A. MANUAL LYMPHATIC DRAINAGE (MLD)

• slow, rhythmic, skin-stretching strokes

• developed by Dr. Emil Vodder

• done by trained therapists or at home

• moves lymph from extremities toward nodes

B. MECHANICAL DRAINAGE

• compression suits (like Normatec)

• vacuum suction (like LPG Endermologie)

• electric rollers + vibration plates

C. INTERNAL (NATURAL)

• breathwork

• rebounding (trampoline bouncing)

• dry brushing

• sauna/sweating

• hydration

• movement & inversion yoga

HOW TO DO MANUAL LYMPHATIC DRAINAGE AT HOME

PREP:

• be well-hydrated

• be relaxed (stimulating lymph in stress = nah)

• use a dry brush or clean hands

FACE:

1. start at collarbone, gently massage down and out

2. jawline → ears → down neck

3. under eyes → temples → down sides of face

4. forehead → temples → behind ears → down neck

5. always drain downwards toward collarbone

BODY:

1. start at armpits

2. stroke down from arms to armpits

3. belly massage in clockwise circular motions

4. groin lymph massage with gentle circular movement

5. legs: ankles upward to thighs, ending at groin

tip: Always go from distal to proximal, meaning far-to-close to the heart. And be gentle lymph is superficial, you don’t need deep pressure.

DEVICES THAT CAN HELP

for the face:

• gua sha (natural, ancient, sculpting goddess magic) (i use this)

• jade rollers (cooling and de-puffing)

• Foreo Bear or NuFace (microcurrent tools)

• ice globes (i use this)

• vibrating massagers (i use this)

for the body:

• dry brushes (firm bristle brush for exfoliation + flow) (i use this)

• lymphatic paddle boards (i use this)

• compression boots (used by athletes + lymphatic clinics)

• vibration plates (you stand and it shakes your lymph awake)

• infrared sauna blankets

• LPG Endermologie machines

LYMPH-FRIENDLY LIFESTYLE HACKS

FOODS:

• raw fruits (pineapple, berries, citrus)

• leafy greens

• ginger + turmeric

• dandelion root

• seaweed

• chlorella + spirulina

• omega-3 rich foods

HERBS:

• red clover

• cleavers

• echinacea

• astragalus

HABITS:

• drink water (especially warm lemon water)

• move daily (walk, yoga, stretch)

• alternate hot + cold showers

• dry brush before shower

• rebound on mini-trampoline

• sleep well (drainage is boosted in deep sleep)

LYMPH + BEAUTY

• lymphatic drainage de-puffs the face like magic

• stimulates collagen production

• clears breakouts by boosting detox

• reduces dark circles

• tightens jawline and cheekbones

• boosts skincare absorption

SPIRITUAL + ENERGETIC LAYER

in many healing traditions (like Ayurveda, TCM), lymph = life fluid. congestion = blocked emotional energy

blocked lymph = blocked creativity, blocked intuition, blocked glow.

draining the lymph = restoring your internal flow, your connection to Self, Source, and spirit.

you wanna shine? clear your waters.

HOW OFTEN SHOULD YOU DO LYMPHATIC DRAINAGE?

• face: daily or every other day

• body: 3x a week minimum

• post-op: depends on doctor’s advice

• vibration plates/compression boots: 15–30 mins a few times a week

CONTRAINDICATIONS + SAFETY

don’t do lymphatic drainage if:

• you have active cancer

• you have infections or fever

• you have blood clots or deep vein thrombosis

• you are pregnant (only do under supervision)

• you’ve had heart or kidney issues (speak to a doc first)

always listen to your body. gentle is good. pain is not.

FINAL WORD

your lymphatic system is like your inner spa therapist, immune defense squad, and emotional sponge rolled into one. don’t sleep on it.

if you want:

• snatched cheekbones

• less puffiness

• glowing, radiant skin

• fewer colds

• balanced moods

• deep detox

• emotional flow

then lymphatic drainage isn’t optional. it’s essential. give your body the love, movement, and flow it deserves.

[taintandviolent]

Bitchin' ; Peter Maximoff x rollerskater!reader

summary: You always wear your silver rollerskates. But, when Peter Maximoff decides to check out the roller rink's arcade, and spots you... It's fate. At least, Peter thinks so. word count: 4.2K words! w a r n i n g s: brief use of Y/N, shameless smut, smut without plot, public fingering, public handjobs, dry humping, kissing, neck kissing. a/n: requested - I lost the original ask but the anon wanted a rollerskating reader who Peter was obsessed with! Honestly, this is my very first Peter fic so if there's anything that isn't in character or canon please mind your business and pretend you do not see it.

full fic & taglist under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! /

The disco ball twirled above, casting little squares of light over all the skaters like pieces of confetti. You grooved to the music while carefully maintaining your balance. The rink was buzzing with celebration; at least three birthdays amongst other parties were being held there.To you, it was merely another Saturday night. Skating had become more or less a therapeutic activity for you; it was a way to unwind after the day. The stresses floated away behind you as you circled the rink. Thankfully, it was also aerobic in nature, so you were getting your daily exercise in as you decompressed. Not to mention, it was funner than hell.

So, this wasn’t Peter’s usual hangout. But, the rink had a Centipede and a Dig Dug machine, so why not? The light from the machines blinked, reflecting off his eyes. New highscores were easily beaten when the bar was set so low. Come on! Did they even try!? 

To his right, he heard a cacophony of giggles and chattering as a cluster of young girls sped his way, their hands full of drinks. To avoid a collision, Peter was forced to turn around, making way for the girls as they passed. And as he did, two flashes of silver caught his eye. 

Those same two flashes of silver zipped around the rink, catching the neon lights from above. Peter’s dark eyes followed them as they circled and eventually, trailed up the shapely legs that they were attached to. You had a bangin’ body, that much was evident. He watched you as you skated around and around, your legs weaving in and out of each other with skill. You weren’t hugging the perimeter, scared like some of the other girls. You were confident, and in your own, bodacious skating world.

Nah, he thought. No way. But… What if fate is totally intervening, dude? What are the chances that I clock a girl with silver roller skates if it wasn’t meant to be? C’mon… 

As his thoughts raced, you veered off from the throngs of skaters, heading towards the wall near the tables. Chalking it up to destiny, Peter couldn’t argue with himself any further. It was now or never. The moment to strike, the moment to make his move…was right now. 

Your skates hit the wall with a thunk-thunk. Your drink was right where you left it, and still cold enough to sweat. As you sipped, you spotted a guy on a mission, making his way in your direction, maneuvering through people as they passed him. Silver hair? Silver… everything, really. Interesting coincidence. You turned around, unsure, but nobody else was seemingly aware of him. So, you weren’t mistaken, he was headed straight for you. 

Once he got to you, he said two words. Two words.

“Bitchin’ skates.” 

That same dorky smile that he wore as he made his way over to you was still plastered on his face as he stood in front of you now. The same one that, contrary to his probable assumption, you weren’t turned off by. Quite the opposite; you thought it was adorable, endearing even. 

“Uhh…” You brought the plastic straw to your lips, buying yourself time. You sucked in a mouthful of soda, raising your eyebrows at him and he raised his back, grinning inwardly. Something about you had clearly caught his attention; he wasn’t leaving. Unfortunately for him, you were ten kinds of anxious and fourteen kinds of nervous when it came to talking to guys. You leaned over the wall, looking at his feet; a pair of silver shoes. You gulped down more soda, and pulled the straw from your lips.

“Don’t judge a book by its cover, babe. Just cause I’m not skatin’ doesn’t mean I’m uncool.” 

You sniggered, rocking back and forth on your skates. You set the soda down on the same table you retrieved it from and gave him your undivided attention. Even though you hadn’t really thanked him for the compliment, it didn’t matter, he wasn’t deterred. “So uh…” He leaned in, angling his face towards yours. Your gaze flitted to his lips for a nano-second, before you darted back up to his eyes. “My name’s Peter.” 

He’d clearly expected you to tell him your name, but you remained silent, clamming up at the very heavy flirtation that he was laying on you. Had you really just forgotten your own name? Clearing his throat, Peter inched closer still, now practically leaning over the wall that separated the rink from the dining area. 

“You come here often, nameless cutie?” Okay… that was cheesy. Too fast for you to notice, he rolled his eyes, silently chastising himself. Much to his delight though, you didn’t skate off, laughing hysterically, shucking him off like some idiot on the school yard. You stuck around and gave him a cutesy, coy little nod that went straight between his legs. 

“Yeah… I do. Every Saturday night. Um… My name’s Y/N.” 

“Guess I need to start comin’ around on Saturday nights…” 

“Why’s that?” You questioned, pumping the straw in and out of the lid, the plastic creaking with the action. You knew the answer. You were willingly lining him up for a compliment that you’d let land real nicely. “Hm?” 

“Well…” He shifted his weight, leaning his elbow on the railing. “Clearly all the babes come through on Saturday nights. Case in point.” He gestured to you with a nod of his head. 

“Thanks,” you muttered to the floor. Some people scooted around you, bracing themselves on the wall. New skater, obviously. Peter paid them no attention; his gaze was iron-locked on you. 

“For the compliment on your skates or that absolutely bogus pick-up line I just tried?” 

You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling a blush crawling up your neck. “Both… actually. Silver has always been my favourite colour.”

Now Peter was the one blushing. “Was that a… compliment? Or uh…” 

“Could be.” 

“Could be?” 

“Yeah.” 

“What do I gotta’ do to make it one?” 

You considered this. Really, he didn’t have to do anything more than what he’d already done. He was silvery and ultra-cute, and the way his lips curved up into a smile every time he looked at you had your knees turning to Jell-o. Plus, he was wearing a RUSH shirt. RUSH was cool. 

“Skate with me.” 

Say less, he thought. Before you had a chance to process it, Peter raced over to the rental counter, coming to a halt just before the swinging door. The girl behind it was too involved in a fashion magazine to attend to him - and if he was polite enough to wait, the speed at which she was gonna’ move would’ve been excruciating. Peter snatched a pair of skates in his size, tucked his shoes in one of the empty cubby holes and took off back towards you. You had just barely finished blinking by the time he was sitting at your table, arms folded on the railing.

When you opened your eyes, he was sitting instead of standing. You furrowed your brows and peeked over the wall. He was laced up, ready to go.

“How did you…” 

You knew. Even though he hadn’t disclosed it and you hadn’t really seen him move, you knew. You’d heard about mutants, but the thought never captivated you enough to look too deeply into it. To you, they were just regular people – well, not regular people – but people all the same. People with lives, people with feelings. 

But this guy… this guy was really cool.

“Well, come o–” 

Again, before you’d even finished blinking, he was in front of you, cheesing. “You were saying?”

You weren’t sure how else to acknowledge his power, so you’d do it honestly. You nodded once and said: “Bitchin’.” 

“Bitchin’,” he affirmed. “Bitchin’.” 

You dipped forward, reaching for his fingers. His large hand was warm and inviting, and immediately enveloped yours. For a moment, the two of you didn’t move. The second he laced his fingers in between yours, your arm went numb, buzzing with electricity. You weren’t sure whether or not that was a part of his mutantness, or just… your own body responding to this very cute guy touching you. Probably the latter, but you weren’t about to sever the connection to discuss it. 

Peter looked flushed, but masked it with a charming smile and a quirked silver eyebrow.

“Oh, we’re holdin’ hands now?” 

“Well, yeah,” you started, dismissing it as though it was the most normal thing in the world. You beamed, flashing him a smile before pulling him into the flow of skaters. It was hard to imagine that you, with your utterly awkward sense of self, had suddenly taken the lead and were now in control of the situation. “You know how to skate?” 

“Uh… sorta.”

“Well, here.” You spun around, now skating backwards. You held out your free hand, wiggling your fingers towards his. Peter did a double-take – was he really going to be holding both your hands? No questions asked? His already-fast heart thudded in his chest. This was too easy. Fate, man. It’s fate. 

“Come on, don’t be shy. You had enough confidence to come up to me earlier… don’t back out now.” 

“Wha-?! I’m so not!” He looked offended. You couldn’t help but laugh at that, and grabbed his hand at the wrist, pulling him closer to your body. You then noticed that his knees were locked in true beginner form. He looked stiff and slightly unsure. 

“Relax, baby…” You cooed, coaxing him through the motions. “Just move with the groove…”

Slowly, Peter’s dilated eyes crawled up from his skates to yours, and up your divine lookin’ legs. They made their way up your torso before finally coming to a stop on your face. Inside, his heart was hammering against his ribs. Had you just called him baby? Baby? Hoh’ boy… 

Peter composed himself from the impromptu melting you’d caused, he straightened up, relaxing his knees to push into the skates. As the two of you had abruptly picked up speed, you glanced behind you to make sure you weren’t going to run into anyone. Thankfully, he seemed to be navigating pretty masterfully. Peter had his bearings. In fact, thanks to his quick reflexes, he’d gotten his bearings approximately seventeen seconds ago, but you didn’t need to know that. That might’ve prevented the absolutely stellar physical contact he was experiencing now. 

“Yeaaaaaahaaah, Peter! Just like that.” You cheered him on, happy to see that he was loosening up and moving in a much more natural way. For Peter, your smooth voice was doing wonders… but in the wrong way. Or the right way. No. Right way for the wrong situation. Okay, so what? Your syrupy, praising voice was going straight to his crotch. 

“Hey, can we uh… Can we go faster?” He asked. You nodded, preparing yourself to take the lead, but before you could make the necessary changes in speed, Peter spun you around, snaking his arms around you from behind, hands resting gingerly on your abdomen, just above your hips. It was a risky move, he knew it, but it just felt so right to do… and after a few seconds, waiting on bated breath, no protests fell from your lips.You weren’t about to shoo him off, not with the way his grip was sending shivers up and down your spine.  

“Ready?”

You nodded, though you weren’t sure what you were agreeing to. He continued moving his feet, skating them back and forth. With a quick motion that pressed his chest into your back, Peter took off, narrowly avoiding some dude in neon dolphin shorts. He pushed you, navigating both your bodies around the rink at record breaking speeds, speeds so fast that nobody else even registered you two moving. Around you, people were still moving, but slowly. So slowly. You were nothing but fluffs of air as you passed them. It was terrifying; you’d never moved that fast on roller skates in your life. 

After a few laps, you gripped his veiny forearms pressing them tight against your hips. “Okay! Okay!” 

Peter tipped his toes, letting the stops drag against the polished linoleum floors. You two slowed down abruptly until you were back in sync with the rest of the rink’s patrons. Your hair was wind-blown, tousled locks fluttering back into place. 

“You okay?”

“Oh my god,” you breathed. “That was…” 

“Wicked?” 

“Y-yeah.” You swallowed, wetting your throat. You had some other choice words, but you weren’t about to crush his spirit. His toned chest was rising and falling into your back, and for a second, you leaned your head backwards onto his shoulder. You caught yourself in that embarrassing moment of weakness and jerked your head forward again. “S-sor–”

As quickly as you two had stopped, Peter pivoted you on your skates, and crushed his lips against yours, pressing into them tightly. His lips were warm and melted into yours, but the shock of the kiss had you frozen. After a few painstaking seconds, he pulled away, a look of terror plastered on his face. His eyes searched yours, desperately. 

“Shoot… Did I totally misread that?” 

You licked the remnants of him off your lips, humming in satisfaction. “No… no you didn’t.” 

Peter bounced on his heels, nodded, and glanced at your lips again, wanting so desperately to be back against them, but he’d play it cool, and wait for you to make the next move. 

“Peter, I um… think you’re really cute. But next time… can you give me a warning when we’re gonna’ go hyperspeed?” 

“Next time?” He chuckled low, rubbing the back of his neck. He liked the implications that there’d be a next time. “Y-yeah, sure, babe.”

Silence fell between you two, and while neither of you spoke, a lot was being said. The way he gazed into your eyes, the way that you gazed back… that was the thing about chemistry. It found its way in, no matter how quiet you were. Your heart fluttered in your chest, your stomach muscles tightening instinctively as you looked at him. Peter’s strong hand flexed on yours, gripping your fingers and yanking them towards him. The stops on your skates bumped into his, knocking him backwards slightly. 

“Peter...” you started, nervously chewing on the inside of your cheek. 

“Yeah?” Bless him. The eager, almost desperate look in his dark brown eyes told you he was ready for whatever you were gonna’ throw his way. Preferably, another heated kiss. 

You wanted to, desperately, but swallowed that fiery urge, suddenly hyper-aware of the people zipping around you. At  present, no one was tossing insults your way, but if you two lingered on the rink any longer without skating, you suspected they would. Nervously, you chewed your lip. “We should probably um - get off the rink...”

He agreed with an excited but wordless nod, and towed you in the direction of the opening. Adjusting to the feeling of carpet beneath your feet, you moved behind him, thankful for his hand.

As you passed the video games, both of you stopped in front of one of the party rooms. This one, unlike the others, was off to the side, and dark. Inside, there was nothing but a table with some chairs, and a few leftover party decorations pinned to the walls. Both you and Peter stared at the empty room.

“Are you thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?” 

“I dunno. Just what exactly are you thinkin, Peter?” 

He smirked.

By the time you’d exhaled, Peter had twisted the handle, tugged you inside, and pressed your back gently against the door, shutting it. He hovered over you, face inches from yours, looking down at you with a wanton, heated gaze. With one hand flattened against the wall by your head, Peter flexed the muscles in his forearm, showing off just slightly. 

“Hey,” you said, gazing up into his dark, inky pools. 

“Hey back.”

You wasted no time in kissing him. This time though, you went at him with parted lips, exhaling over his lips. Peter moaned softly into your mouth, overcome by your scent and taste. Everything about you was unreal; from the way that you tilted your head to get close to him to the way that your fingers clawed at the front of his jeans, desperately hooking into his belt loops to pull him closer to your own hips. Coming up to you was the best decision he’d made in weeks. Maybe months. Maybe even friggin’ years. 

Peter’s tongue swirled around yours, pausing to pepper softer kisses on your plush lips every few seconds. “Mmmm-hm…” Another eager kiss. “Babe, you’re totally…”

“What, bitchin’?” You finished for him, teasing.That had been the word of the night, seemingly. 

In response, Peter kissed you again, pulling you in at the waist. He rutted his hips against you desperately, grinding his half-hard cock into your groin, hungrily seeking out friction. At the whisper of his powerful thrust, you paused, flattening both hands on his chest. 

“Wait, lemme take off my skates,” you started. “I don’t want to fall…”

“If you do, I’ll catch ya’. Promise.” 

The confident lilt in his voice was enough to make you trust him, or maybe it was the way that he completely wiped your stream of consciousness by brushing the bridge of his nose against the nape of your neck, peppering tiny kisses along the feverish flesh. 

Peter bucked his hips against you again, forcing himself against your fingertips, pressing them into the denim. You took his enthusiastic dry humping as a green light, and unbuttoned his pants. You followed with the zipper, and you heard Peter mutter something under his breath. Whatever it was, it sounded massively excited. 

“What was that?” You asked, coyly.

You wrestled with his jeans, fingers exploring deeper, slipping through a bush of silver and  ventured further down, stopping only to take hold of his cock at the base. It was hot to the touch, and now, rock hard. Really…. You thought, smirking to yourself. His interest in you wasn’t superficial, this dude really wanted you. You gripped a little harder, watching intently as the muscles in his jaw feathered and clenched. 

“I said uh, um… it was… Hoh’, babe…” You started stroking and Peter’s head lolled back between his shoulders, a broken moan hitching in his throat. “Hoh’ my god…” 

You kept stroking him, your thumb massaging the veiny underside of his swollen cock. Every pass of your fingers brought another breathy whimper from deep within his throat, and your core tightened further. He was putty in your hands, desperate, whining and begging for more. 

“Just like that, babe…” He bucked his hips rhythmically and brought his other hand to the door, bracing himself. 

“Want me to go faster?” 

He looked at you, quirking a brow as if to say, “Really?”

So you did. It took all of three seconds for Peter to start quivering above you, almost vibrating. Peter dropped one hand, his thick fingers dragging across the ruched elastic of your shorts, pads fluidly slipping over the satin fabric. 

“Can I…” He paused, clearing his throat. “Can I touch her?” 

You loved that he called her her. Cute. You exhaled a moan through your nose and bit down on the corner of your lip. Meeting his gaze again, you nodded excitedly. Peter’s hand pressed against your stomach and dove downwards, slipping over the front of your shorts. At first, he stroked her from the outside, feeling the warmth that radiated from between your folds. But he moved fast, in all ways, and soon, he craved a different sensation. Quickly finding the waistband of your shorts again, he dipped inside to find the hem of your underwear, pausing only to run his finger along it, before slipping past it.

“Ohhhh…” He groaned, feeling the blistering heat of your cunt, and the beginnings of the pre-cum that had made its way up to your folds. “Oh, okay. Silver really is your favourite color.” 

You laughed into his neck, walking your feet out slightly to spread your cunt for him. His fingers grazed your clit, circling it delicately a few times before he moved to your slit, manipulating the wetness that greeted him and coated his fingers. Peter inserted his middle finger, pumping it in and out carefully a few times. You moaned through closed lips, a weak attempt at muffling the sounds, should anyone hear.

“Wanna’ see something cool?” 

You, breathless and starting to sweat, nodded. 

“Fffuck, you’re so wet… uh, sorry - okay. Prepare to be wowed.” He hoped. At least, he was fairly certain that you’d never experienced what he was about to do. 

Half a second passed. Then Peter’s finger slid in and out of you so fast it almost felt mechanical, drilling into you at inhuman speeds. Your jaw dropped, pupils dilating. He wasn’t joking – but maybe selling himself short. You were a little more than wowed.

Abruptly, you pressed your ass against the door, pulling his slippery fingers from you. “St-stop, I’m gonna’ c-cum if you keep doing that.” Shocked at your honesty, you felt your face flush. 

“Oh?” He slipped another finger in, murmuring happily at the way your slick walls clenched around them. Peter brought his thumb forward so that with every pump of his fingers, the pad of his thumb bumped into your puffy, tender clit. You couldn’t help but whine then, the dual-stimulation overwhelming your senses. 

He continued, winding the coil in your tummy tighter and tighter. You moved into him just a little bit closer, plunging him in just a little bit deeper and wrapped your free arm around his broad shoulders, desperate to bring your bodies tighter together. Although his hand enveloped your pussy, you could feel the repeated grind of your own hand as you jacked him off. 

Peter continued, mercilessly, delighted that he had you coming undone in front of him. Sweat streamed down your neck, winding its way down into your cleavage – which, by the way, he was absolutely devastated he couldn’t see. His gaze was locked on your tits then, watching as they rose and fell with each laboured breath you took. Suddenly, your hand went slack around his dick. You focused on nothing in particular as white hot flashes darted across your vision. Peter groaned into your neck as you came around his fingers, warm, wet… 

Your knees buckled, the wheels of your skates rolling forward. Just as he promised, Peter caught you strongly with his free arm, and pinned you against the door with a soft thud. You gasped, gripping him hard, pleasuring him with a new found fervour. You stroked his cock with long, deliberate strokes, paying special attention to his reddened head. Pre-cum, lots of it, leaked from the slit, and you eagerly spread it until his whole cock was slippery. Peter squirmed against your body, his fingers still slipping in and out of you at high-speed. 

“I’m gonna’... I’m gonna’....” 

“Oh, so you cum fast too?” 

Your teasing was all it took for Peter to lose it. Every muscle in his body clenched, his eyes rolled back as his dick spurted sticky, white ropes over your hand and into the fibres of his jeans. You loosened your grip, letting the natural throb of his cock bump into your stomach, leaking against your skin.  

Knock. Knock. 

In a nanosecond, Peter had both of your appearances returned to normal as though a mutual jerk-off session hadn’t just happened. But ohhhhhh, it had. It definitely had. Even though the boner had totally faded, his cock still felt like it was throbbing. He laced his fingers with yours, and threw open the door, pretending to search for the light switch.

“Hey, this room is off-limits…” The girl said, looking slightly annoyed. Peter recognized her; the same one from the rental booth. Guess she finally had to make her rounds. 

“We were just – “ you stammered, trying to find a feasible excuse. 

“Checking out the room for a party.” Peter interjected. “Is food provided?” 

The girl seemed taken aback by such a simple question. “Uh… y-yeah. We do pizza or hot dogs.” 

“Sick, thanks.” 

With that, Peter yanked you from the room, skating back towards the arcade machines. You looked out towards the rink; it had slowed down substantially, and likely, would close soon. Time had flown while you were in there with him. 

Once you two had stopped, you turned to him, running a single finger down the front of his shirt. It was still damp and warm with his sweat. A small smile curled its way onto your pink lips. 

“You got a pen?” 

Thwip. Thwip. He was back, fingers wrapped around a blue pen, which he held out to you proudly. With a satisfied smile, you took his hand, flipped it over, and wrote your number on the inside of his palm, near the meat of his thumb.

“Call me?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Not maybe. He was for sure gonna’ call you. He’d call you the second he got home – well, no. Maybe not because he’d get home way before you. But. He shook his head slightly, dislodging the distraction.

If Peter had his way, he’d bust his next nut inside of you.

t a g l i s t : @kaismanwich / @garykingz / @elsamars / @silverzoomies / @tatesdisasterofalover / @thewolveswithin / @80strashbag / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @stucktothetwo / @enchanting-evan / @yesdevineruler / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @my-own-walker / @kai-slut / @demxnicprxncess / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @dewberryobssesed / @the-goblin1 / @dirtyfairy97 / @jellyluvr / @strangerthings420 / @kai-anderson-whore / @babygorewhore / @quickandsilvers / @tatelangdonsweater / @ifeeltoofuckingmuch / @howtobesasha / @randominstake / @throwinginmythai / @slvt4jamesmarch / @poltoreveur / @feefymo / @evpeters87 / @lacucarachapisser

Ask to be added to taglist for future fics!!

[garfieldblunt]

RIP VDL Gang y’all would have loved pt. 2

Dutch- GoFundMe, Cruises

Arthur- Ford F150s, art classes

Hosea- Podcasts, Audio Books

John- Monster Trucks, Pro wrestling

Javier- fruit flavored tequila, concerts

Abigail- Baby Monitors, AirTags

Jack- Pokémon Go, Minecraft

Uncle- Massage chairs at the mall

Micah- 4Chan, Rage Bait

Kieran- Starstabel online, webkins

Sadie- Rage Rooms

Josiah- monopoly, being an America's got Talent Judge

Swanson- Dry Bars, mocktails

Pearson- Iron Chef, Air Fryers

Grimshaw- Lint rollers, sewing Machines

Molly- Get Ready With Me tiktoks

Tilly- Crochet, Debate Club

Mary Beth- Character A.I.

Charles- animal shelters, animal documentaries

Bill- a small, white, little yappy dog, he named Bella

Lenny- doulingo or anything that could teach him a new language

Sean- wet tshirt contests

Karen- Improve Classes, Victoria Secret Perfumes

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

Random Cleaning management

You will need to occasionally run a cleaning cycle for your washing machine. Most shops have some kind of powder for it.

Otherwise your clothes will start smelling musty and the machine itself can get cloggedup and gross.

Also, you will need to use drain cleaner on your kitchen and bathroom sinks, shower drain, laundry sink.

Apparently you also need to do it for dishwashers, if youre lucky to have a robot for that odious little task.

And check the lint catcher in your dryer to avoid fires.

Mirrors, you can use your glass cleaner and s scrunkled newspaper

Wipe the top of fans of dust. And the top of the fridge. And the furniture.

Make peace with the reality that there will always be dust and you one day will also be dust.

Wipe the taps. They can get gunky.

Spray on cleaners for the bathroom are great but you're going to have to actually clean it eventually.

Get a mop if you have tiles or laminate flooring. It makes a difference.

Wipe the cupboards. Esp if you have pets.

Not sure if this works for all walling but like, diluted sugar soap cleans most stuff. Thats the stuff that worked when i was a kid.

You can get leather wipes or a spray and some chux for armchairs and shit.

If you have little demons who take out your table cloths, most cheap stores have these little table weights in a four pack. It can stop them annihilating your table.

Dont auto assume furniture polish needs to go on any wood you got. But it also doesnt hurt to try the test patch thing in a small spot.

Wash your fucking curtains at some point in the year. They collect dust and cat hair. If you cant vacuum it or whatever, shake em outside and wash it.

If your vacuum isnt that strong, nothing wrong with a lint roller or a little brush to get stubborn fluff from carpet or rugs.

Move the furniture once every so often for a clean. So much. Dust and fluff can get under there.

Keep your cleaning shit all together in a closable location. Lockable as needed if you have kids. So they dont chug a potion of uh oh.

Hang shirts on coathangers if you have limited line space. If its long sleeved or thick, you may need to still hang them.

Oh and you save space/pegs if you get one of the specialised holders. Undies, socks, headbands etc. It'll fit and dry quick.

Most shops and camping stores have easily collapsible washing lines and things. Great for if you need extra space, or if its pissing rain and it has to dry inside, or you need to just spread something out weird.

You will never win against a fitted sheet.the gods abandoned us aeons ago.

If you wash thick things like blankets or bath mats, getting some heavier duty metal pegs van be a game changer. Esp if the wind tunnel by your place can blast shit off the line with the most mininmal provocation.

Chair leg protectors... the stick on ones will slide off and they hate you personally.

If you have messy animal eaters in the house,there are like silicone mats and even towel ones although to make your own, you can even cut out of old towels and put a hem or whatevs. Under the bowls? Saves the floor and easily washed.

Flip the mattress. Get a mattress protector too. There will be a day someone spills a drink or jas an accident, or a pet throws up. Just do it. Also wash the mattress protector. Please.

If you have a small bedroom and a big vacuum? For a deep clean, push the mattress off the bed and pick up the slats. Takes extra effort but it gets that deep clean.

Glen20 is a friend but like, you do need to wipe surfaces. Eventually. Wipe the bottom of the bin. Hot water. Bin juice gets sticky and no stink pretty spray fixes it.

Smelly shoes needs to sit in the sun, you can also put newspaper in there to sop up extra.

If clothes or blankets smell off after storage, wash em.

Fabric softner. Not necessary. Can fuck up things like towels and period panties and some delicate items.

Clothes and things have labels on them for a reason. If you love the item, read them.

Cant fit a full ass ironing board? You can get a mini one. I gound mine at an op shop. But you can also get a mat from stores like bunnings and big w.

Litter boxes. Give the thing a wipe over regulalrly. Especially if you dont use the tray bag things. I use a puppy pad under a litter tray liner thing. Only because i have frantic diggers who will try to hide it in china. Wash the litter box and any floor protector mats.

Speaking of the dunny, you can get little cubes to put in the cistern to clean on flush, if you dsilike cage cleaners. But, you still have to scrub the thunderbox in some way, and use the little toilet cleaner and spray up under the rim. It gets evil up there.

Have some containers for your hobbies and crafts, helps to cycle them in and out easier.

Do not. Use cleaners with the abandon of a drunk wizard hurling everything in a cauldron. Be in a ventilated room, door open if you can. Use one product at a time and pay attention to whats in it so you dont gas yourself by accident.

Shopping list magnet on the fridge can help are u gonna forget it on occasion? Sure. Take a photo of it on shopping day.

Wipe out your fridge. Defrost the freezer. Check the brand type and see if theres any instructions for it.

Wash your Toys. Please. Dont give yourself an infection internally or externally. But if you do, remember that your dr is there to help not judge you. Dont delay out of embarrsssment.

Change your loofa. Change your toothbrush. Change your washing up slonge regulalry.

Steel wool is your friend for anti rust mess. Lovely knife sets sometimes get moisture and need a scrub. Also needs to be sharpened. You can get a device for it or see a professional (have never fogotten the post about the knife truck that circled a neighbourhood like an ice cream truck).

Occasionally pull out all your co tainers and lids. Check who is a single, double check for missing pair, and either repurpose or toss.

Any wooden items in your kitchen really look at them at least a few times a year. Moldy? Toss it. Been submerged in water and never quite dried? Sorry, has to go.

Especially a cutting board with sus looking colours in the grooves. Gotta go. And plastic ones that are all hacked up? Repurpose it or toss it.

Wipe the splashback tiles around the sinks. Theres more than you think on there.

Wipe the windows. Promise theyre dirtier than you think.

Clean. Your. Fucking microwave. And. Oven.

For like recyclable items like water bottles and cans, a garden bag in a 60L bin tucked in a corner is a helpful solution. Resdy to go right to containers for change when full.

You do not need 3ven 1/10th of the must haves on tiktok or snap or insta. You just need shit that works for you.

Listen, my house gets messy regularly for like, the fact theres only so much time in a day. But occasionaly remembering one of these things and doing it can help unfuck your head and environment.

Theres probs more, you accumulate adulting and cleaning stuff. Add more as you think of it.

[actualbird]

hi zak, my luke plush got a bit dirty and dusty.... do you happen to have a guide on how to wash (and care) for your luke plush properly?? thanks ueuueue ;;-;;

hi hi chika!!! i see youve finally gotten to the quintessential luke plush owner milestone of having to give your boy his First Bath!!!

i wouldnt say i know the textbook Proper way to wash luke plushie, because when i got my luke plushie i lost the official hyv tag he came with so i never got to read the wash/care instructions (if there were any) BUT i can tell you how ive been washing my luke plushie because it seems to have worked so far!!

without further ado

step 1: pre-wash

youre first gonna wanna remove his clothes, luke plush is a lot easier to wash when hes naked, and it's also easier to wash the clothes fully when theyre off of his body

(pictured: the plushie family and clothes, separated)

i'd also suggest using a lint roller at this stage to get some of the surface dirt off, just so washing him is easier once hes in the water

once hes naked and lint-rolled, its off to the bath!!

step 2: bath time

we're going to be hand washing him, not machine washing because machine washing a plushie is scary to me. theyre all alone in there.....

anyhoo, fill a basin with cold water and drown your luke plushie in there. make sure there's enough water to fully submerge your boy.

once hes all wet, add gentle detergent, the gentlest you have

both the water temp and detergent kind is to prevent any color fading. very much avoid any harsh chemicals like bleach and whatnot.

this is not part of the washing process but now is the perfect time to pause and take a picture because luke plushie will look like hes in a bathtub

(pictured: bubble bath time for luke plushie)

anyhoo, once youre done taking a pic, gently GENTLYYYYY scrub at any portions that have dirt or grime on them. gently GENTLLLYYY rub everywhere else that doesnt have any visible dirt.

repeat with the clothes, and take extra care because ive found that his clothes are very fragile.

dunk luke plushie's head under the water and gently GENTLYYY squeeze, so his stuffings and braincells also get washed.

do this for a few minutes until youre satisfied or until the visible dirt has been removed

once done, set luke plushie and clothes aside, dump the sudsy water out, and fill the basin again with clean cold water. dunk luke plushie and clothes in the cold water to rinse them off, swishing luke plushie and clothes around under the water.

after some swishing, you can run luke plushie and his clothes under a running faucet or hose to further rinse him out.

keep rinsing until the water no longer comes out with sudsy bubbles. you may have to squeeze his head GENTLY GENTLYYYY a few times in between this process to get all the suds out of his cranium, so just be patient

once the water is no longer sudsy, it's time to dry him!!

step 3: drying

since the clothes are thin, you can hang those up right away to air dry. for luke plushie, however, his head is huge and currently filled with water which makes him very heavy at first.

to get some of that water out, place him on a towel, fold the towel over him, and press down on his head gently or roll him around in the towel. do this a few times to get as much of the water in his head Out so he isnt so heavy when you hang him

once his skull has been drained of most of the water, hang luke plushie on a hanger by his legs, since it's easiest for clothespins to clip onto that

(pictured: just hanging out)

if luke plushie's head is still too heavy from the water to be hung from his legs, another alternative is tying a ribbon around his neck and hanging him from the ribbon instead. i just dont do this myself because it VERY MUCH EMOTIONALLY DISTRESSES ME to see him choking like that, but objectively it's a good workaround

IMPORTANT NOTE: if youre air drying them outside, place them away from direct sunlight. this is, once again, to prevent color fading.

i find that leaving them to hang out for one full day is enough to dry him completely!!

and thats it!! once everything is dry, you can clothe luke plushie once more and he'll be all clean and fresh

oh one last note. if your luke plushie had slight blushies on his cheeks (like it was sprayed on), you might notice that thats faded a bit after the first wash. this is normal and unavoidable (at least in my experience), but you can add his blushies back with makeup, if you have any

also, i'd highly suggest getting a lint roller for when luke plush gets dusty but isnt dirty enough to warrant a full bath!! just gently give him a bunch of rolls like so to keep him dust free :D

i hope this helps!!! i wish you the best on your luke plush washing adventures!!

[shoku-and-awe]

How To Make Fresh Homemade Pasta

Ingredients

2 2/3 cups (345 g) all-purpose flour, plus more for rolling the pasta

3/4 teaspoon salt

4 large eggs

Equipment

Mixing bowl

Fork or dough whisk

Pasta machine (see Additional Notes for rolling pasta by hand)

Baking sheet

Clean dishtowel

Instructions

Combine the flour and salt in a large bowl.

Add the eggs. Create a deep well in the middle of the flour and crack eggs into it.

Combine the flour and eggs. Gradually pull in flour from the bottom and sides of the bowl.

Knead the dough. Gently knead the dough until it forms a smooth elastic ball.

Rest the dough. Add the dough to the clean bowl and cover. Rest for 30 minutes.

Divide the dough. Use a spatula or bowl scraper to divide the dough into four pieces.

Begin rolling out the pasta. Flatten one piece of dough into a thick disk between your hands and feed it through the pasta roller. 

Thin the pasta. Change the settings on your roller to roll the pasta thinner.

Cut the pasta. Cut the long stretch of dough into noodle-length sheets, about 12-inches.

Cook, dry, or freeze the pasta. Cook it right away, dry it, or freeze it for later.

[dr-spectre]

a thought i keep stumbling on while trying to work out Splatoon's world, how fairly "utopian" splatoon seems to be compared to our own, and i'm wondering just how far that goes, socially and economically

the primary activity for inkfish is an all-inclusive, free to play social sport where you literally get paid for playing, the only barrier to entry being a weapon, of any kind, even a scavenged up Splattershot Jr. (which may even be freely given?)

GrizzCo, evil as it is, seems to take full advantage of inkfish respawning (the helicopter does not leave even when the Triumvirate shows up in an enclosed space like Undertow, fucking insane pilot), so no one ever seems to actually die on the job? with actually pretty decent pay alongside it (if you get lucky lmao)

there is/this is way WAY too much to type in somebody's askbox but GRAAHHHH SPLATOON LORE

I'm going to be honest, i haven't given much thought on the social and economic status of the Splatoon world LMAO! My knowledge of Splatoon lore only goes to the Idols, the timeline and the hidden stuff in the games. Trying to figure out how money works in Splatoon and the conversion of it to real world dollars is just as headache inducing as figuring out how the fuck does the Inkling and Octoling hair work.

Like look at this chocolate cereal for example, in our dollars, would it be 38 bucks? 3 dollars and 80 cents? Or is it based on Japanese Yen? Because Inkopolis is definitely inspired by Tokyo and other cities in Japan, just take a look at the architecture.

Inkopolis and Splatsville for sure seem very utopian and you don't hear much about crimes or any real issues aside from giant electric fishes being stolen every once in a while, and maybe an Idol goes missing and comes back like a few days later (you know who I'm talking about.)

To me it's basically Japan but more advanced and has sea creatures running the place instead of hairy fleshy humans like us lol. And they have a popular sport anyone can join and get paid for. Turf War is like THE THING in their society and they wanna encourage everyone to play it, so they give out money. Or at least that's why i think Inklings and Octolings get paid when participating in Turf War. Hell it makes sense for Inklings and Octolings to get paid for ranked battles because it's more serious and competitive, like the competitive sports we have in our world.

Also i wanna say something too which is semi off topic, Inklings and Octolings are kinda fucking insane strength wise, they are able to carry large rollers, fire giant gatling guns, survive from nearly any height as they seem to slow down in the air and land just fine. They have no bones and can stand perfectly fine with just muscles alone. And as long as there's a respawn machine, they can never die, and if there isn't a respawn machine then they'll stay as floating little ghosts until they find a machine.

Like Callie and Marie for example, are not some cute little defenseless girls, HELL NO! They will MURDER you easily if given the opportunity. If a creep were to go onto their stages or if someone tried to grab them, they would easily grab them by the neck and throw them into the atmosphere! Their bodies are just pure muscle and ink. (And they have military training too technically.) And that's one of the reasons why i like em so much... They strong... We all love physically strong girls that can carry us or fucking destroy us... Don't lie to me...

The only thing that can truly kill them is age and even then, they age MUCH slower than us. Cuttlefish and Octavio are over 130 years old and they act like they are around 70 to 80 years old in human years. And you can probably extend their lifespan by giving them more ink as when they age they slowly dry out, so all you gotta do is keep giving them ink and they might be able to survive for much longer.

There is also water, however it only seems like large bodies of water make them explode and i'm sure you can't just spray a hose at them to kill them lmao.

It's no wonder Mr. Grizz uses these cephalopods to collect eggs, Inklings and Octolings are insanely strong.

[16woodsequ]

Sunday Steve - Day Ten

Things that would be new or unfamiliar to Steve in the 21st century, either due to the time period he grew up in, or his social-economic status and other such factors.

Day Ten: Laundry — Washer and Dryers

Washing Machine

1920s ad for a Thor brand washing machine. One of the first electric washing machines. Note the exposed motor underneath that could shock users when wet. (Imagine Steve associating Thor with washing machines 😆).

Laundry machines have a long history. The first washing machines were invented in the late 1800s. There were mechanical, hand powered machines, consisting of drums full of water and handles to agitate the laundry and turn the rollers to squeeze water from washed clothes.

However, these devices were most common in middle class families. Poor families who could not afford the machines and rich families who did not have to worry about the labour of laundry likely did not have these machines.

Laundry was a laborious task and families who could afford it had hired help to do their laundry or they sent out their laundry to be cleaned and returned.

Here is an account of laundry days in the 1920s for a family who had a scullery. They used a 'washing copper' tub that was built into the floor and had a space for a fire underneath. It is interesting how it describes typical washing without a washing machine, but Steve and Sarah likely lived in a tenement apartment building and did not have these facilities available to them.

We will get into what Sarah probably did when Steve was growing up. But one last laundry innovation to talk about in the 20s was the electric washer. The first electrical washer appeared in the US before the first World War thanks to the invention of the small electric motor (Link).

This blog page gives a good overview of how a domestic electric washing machine worked in 1927. The metal drum was manually filled with water (if you didn't have a hose, lifting and pouring water into the drum was your fate). Pre-prepared soap was added then pre-soaked clothes could be washed. The machines could handle about ten pounds, so clothes had to be regularly transferred in and out. After the wash, clothes were wrung out and put in scalding rinse water to remove soap. Clothes were then wrung out again (maybe rinsed a few more times), starched, and hung to dry. Some families had heated dryer cupboards to hang their clothes.

Domestic washing machines inside the home were not common before the 50s. They were growing in popularity in the 30s, but I doubt Steve every used any type of washing machine in his own home. Depending on how well off you feel the Barneses were they may have had one, but I still feel this wasn't very likely.

In 1920 only 8% of US families owned a washing machine. And by 1941 "only 52% of U.S. families owned or had interior access to an electric washing machine—almost half of families were still hand rubbing or hand cranking laundry or using commercial services" (Link).

Tenement Laundry Days

Reproduction of 1928-1935 tenement house.

Reproduction of 1890s era tenement apartment.

Wash days were usually on Monday. Sarah probably did these steps: Soaking the laundry, scrubbing, boiling, wringing, rinsing, wringing agin, and finally, hanging to dry. (Link)

In the second picture above a scrub board can be seen in the deep sink. The sink was likely used for soaking, scrubbing and rinsing. Scrub boards were used well into the 20th century.

While indoor plumping for tenements was becoming common in the 20s (especially for toilets), if they didn't have running water Sarah would have to trek up and down flights of stairs to fill her tub from the tap in the yard. (Link) This would most likely only be the case if Steve and Sarah lived in a pre-1905 tenement building as laws about tenements changed around that time. However, many tenements were cold water flats, so water would be boiled on the stove.

In the picture above you can see a large oblong metal tub on the stove. This is likely what was used for boiling.

After soaking (usually started Sunday night) clothes that were still soiled would be scrubbed, then the laundry was boiled. Clothes were boiled in water for an hour and stirred with a rod or wooden stick. They would then be removed with a fork or a rod, wrung out, rinsed (to remove soap) and wrung out again.

If Sarah (or Winifred) was able to afford it she may have a mangle to squeeze the water from washed clothes ($5.95-8.00 for a basic one in 1920). These two wooden rollers were dangerous because women could get their fingers or hair caught in them. They also sometimes damaged or broke off buttons. If she didn't have one, she'd wring them out by hand.

The spin cycle was developed to wring out clothes, and some electric washers had this feature going into the 30s. (Link)

Once wrung out, the clothes were hung to dry. In the winter clothes could be hung in front of the fireplace or stove (on a clothes horse for those who had one) if there was space, but they could also be hung outside to freeze and brought in before nightfall.

Tenement buildings commonly had clotheslines strung between buildings. "The advantage of living on a low floor (with fewer flights of stairs to climb) became a disadvantage on wash day, because when hanging your laundry out to dry, ‘someone else might put out a red wash or a blue wash over it, and it drips down and makes you do your wash all over again." (Link)

Berenice Abbott (1898-1991). Court of the First Model Tenements in New York City. March 16, 1936. Museum of the City of New York. (Link, many other examples of tenement clotheslines here. I think this is multiple days of laundry lines in one picture).

Abbott documented this space as a communal laundry line: ropes with pulleys led from apartments to five-story poles imbedded in concrete. Abbott made two exposures, with the laundry and poles forming different abstract configurations. She later recalled that winter day the laundry frozen stiff and the children huddled together, too cold to move.

If you didn't have a clothesline near your window you could dry your clothes on the roof. This required climbing more stairs and keeping an eye out for thieves. (Link)

Tuesdays were ironing days. There were electric irons in the 20s but people also still used multiple irons that had to be heated on the stove. Clothes needed to be damp and sprinkled with water while ironing. That is until steam irons were introduced in the 30s. (Link)

However:

What did Steve do after Sarah died? The same thing the Rogers would have done if Sarah had no time to do laundry, which is likely because she worked full time and laundry was an long chore. If Sarah did do her own laundry as well as worked, she would have worked very long hours trying to stay on top of everything.

For those who couldn't do laundry they would send out their laundry. The peak of the commercial laundry industry was in the 1920s. Many laundries were owned by Chinese immigrants and these laundries catered to single men. (Link) These laundries were cheaper than white-owned steam laundries, which generally catered to large institutions like hotels and hospitals, although they advertised to women as well. Here is a picture of a large commercial laundry.

Sending out laundry may have been a necessary expense on Sarah and Steve's part that they had to budget for. This recounting of a Chinese laundry has the clothes dried and ironed by the workers.

Women, especially black women, took laundry into their home. It is possible Sarah and Steve sent out their laundry to washerwomen, perhaps even one who lived in their own tenement. (Link)

If Sarah did not have the time, nor could afford to send out laundry (especially in the 30s), Steve may have had to deal with the shame of going to school in dirty clothes. Cleanliness was a point of pride and I'm certain Sarah would have made every effort to keep him clean but it may not have always been possible.

Laundry soap

Here is what was most typically used as laundry soap. It was also common, especially for rural families, to make their own soap out of lye and grate or cut up that as laundry soap. (Link)

(Link) Laundry soap options in 1927. They included purchasing flakes, chips, or powder; liquifying your soap ahead of time (right); and (left) grating your own laundry soap from a bar. Fels Naptha soap, which came in a big bar, was rubbed on difficult stains and rings around the collar.

Laundromats

The first laundromat or 'washateria' was opened in Texas in 1934. (Link) Laundromats grew in popularity and spread across the country. These early laundromats had rentable electric washing machines like the ones already mentioned in this post. Clothes were taken home damp to be ironed.

In the 40s the name laundromat became common to describe self-serve laundry. This name actually comes from a brand of automatic washing machine. (Link) Laundromats helps familiarize consumers with washing machines and grow their trust in them, thus ushering in the domestic washing machine age in the 50s and 60s and the decline of commercial laundry services.

Steve may have used a washateria or laundromat in the late 30s or early 40s but the machines would be different. They may have looked something like this:

Toploading washing machine bought in 1939 (Link) It has a motorized mangle.

This blog also has many 1940s ads to show other styles of washing machines. I think our modern washings machines would be somewhat recognizable if Steve saw these ads, but in general washing machines now look very different from the ones he probably saw.

Dryers

If one didn't hang their clothes to dry they were probably wealthy enough to have air dryers which became available in the early 1920s. These were rooms or cupboards. "These dryers could be powered by electricity, gas, or kerosene. In a good dryer, heated air circulated around the clothing so that the clothes did not bake and yellow. The hot air was pulled out of the cabinet and up a chimney" (Link).

Richer folks could also have their clothes dry in sunlit or steam-heated rooms at the top of their mansion or townhouse. (Link).

A sailor getting a uniform out of a clothes dryer in 1943 (link)

The first electric dryer was manufactured in 1938. (Link) Here's a picture of a 1940s dryer, it looks a bit like an oven.

Automatic dryers were slower to arrive. Launderettes had dryers after the war and this helped facilitate the arrival of dryers in the home.

Before dryers became common in laundromats clothes were taken back damp and ironed. This was more or less ideal anyways since clothes needed to be damp to be ironed if you didn't have a steam iron (which was still a luxury).

Dryers would be very new or completely foreign for Steve. I doubt he used one.

Army Laundry Days

This post is already long (I know), so quick coverage of what I found here.

Army training camps had laundries. The army developed laundry trucks (Quarter Master Laundry Units) to service medical units and troops in the field.

When the trucks couldn't keep up with the front (although they did their best) soldiers made arrangements with local laundries or cleaned their clothes themselves.

Clothing exchange was sometime done instead of cleaning and returning the same clothes to speed up the process. This was done most often with front line troops, often in conjunction with showers.

Steve specialised uniform (really, all of the commandos' uniforms) would probably complicate this process which is really interesting to think about. This wash trucks wouldn't be able to just bring standard uniforms to switch out since they were all wearing different uniforms from different armies. If it could be arranged beforehand they might be able to bring a new uniform for Steve, but I wonder if he wore regular fatigues most of the time and only switched into his Captain America suit during active missions to make things easier.

The mobile laundries also organized clothing repair.

This post got really long! I didn't get into the detailed steps of laundry before modern technologies really took off. But needless to say there's still a lot that could be said.

I have a housekeeping book from 1952 that goes into detail how to wash clothes. If anyone is interested in a post about that, you can let me know. I also have a catalogue reproduction showing laundry machines and prices from the early 20th century if anyone is interested,

Sunday Steve Masterpost

[0bj3c7-fr34k4z01d]

I’m up to visit family right?? And my precious Ma says she’ll give Floppiey ((my nearly 20 y//o rabbit plush)) a wash ((through the washing machine)). I tell her I’ll let her but that Floppiey doesn’t like the washing machine cause it scares her. Ma says that no,, it’s like a fun roller coaster for her.

Little does she know I’m a schizophrenic POSIC and I absolutely know she’s terrified of it,, she tells me!! Also idc who knows but I cuddle with Floppiey every night so I’m gonna b so sad while she’s drying,, all cold and shit :((

Ma did say she’ll put her in a few pillow cases so she doesn’t get beaten up in the washing machine and she won’t hang her on the line by her ears cause she has weak seams at her ears

[catenary-chad]

Two of the weird specific personal things that’s always shaped my view of this show is that I’ve been into amusement ride history for over a decade and have worked in high-reliability, highly-regulated industries with some similar mindsets to rail.

People often turn all machines into cars or personal computers in ways that trains are the antithesis of. They’re far more akin to industrial machinery that’s unfamiliar to most people, if they don’t work in it. Roller coasters and amusement rides probably ARE the most familiar analogue since they’re colorful and charismatic, but also high-reliability, heavily regulated heavy machinery that costs a lot up front and tends to be built to last about 20-40 years. Coasters are technically just really weird trains anyways. Interest in their history has grown a lot in the past decade and a lot more people know about stuff like major manufacturers, just how many safety features they have, and how astronomically safe they are vs any other activity that gives the same sensations. Yeah it was bleak in the earlier 2010s when this wasn’t covered much outside forums that were viciously gatekept and all you could do was lurk for questionable hearsay. Amusement parks don’t have to reveal much and generally have business reasons not to, so there’s a ridiculous amount of secrecy around rides. Even electric trains are so accessible in comparison, there’s a ton of documentarion and high qualities sources for them, they’re just dry and you have to dig for them. Their fans range from “chill trolley grandpas” to laughably evangelistic because they’re so desperate for others to care. It’s part of why I get irritated when people won’t even try to research things at a “skim wikipedia” level, it’s not roller coasters! Which are harder to find info on than literal military jets and don’t have the deep sociopolitical effects as trains.

Anyways, with heavier industry there isn’t the sense of disposability and consumerism and reckless forays into unproven tech (well, that one does apply to amusement rides). When things cost a lot up front and are built to last, especially when used by companies who don’t want to spend more than absolutely necessary, there’s a huge motivation to refurbish and repurpose vs replace. Even engineers at my current job are baffled by why customers will gut and replace all the electronics in a thirty year old system vs buy a new one, since it’s so annoying to do. A new one costs as a much as a house, a retrofit costs as much as a new car. It’s something I immediately understood coming in, because yeah, this is just Rocky Mountain Construction’s business model with roller coasters. Why replace a notoriously crappy wooden coaster when you can just reshape the structure and foundations for a better new ride? Even just reusing the concrete footers and replacing the entire structure is often appealing. Trains are the same way, the museums I’ve worked at have bought scrap condition equipment just because they had one or two major parts in good condition even if they couldn’t be run again. A widespread example is how the trucks (things wheels attached to) were often traded back to the manufacturer and used to build a new model, there’s a lot of weird Frankensteined diesel engines still puttering around in the US built this way. A notorious example was the UP coal turbine that used the trucks of a massive electric engine from the Great Northern’s de-electrified. Oh, it’s something that can be VERY morbid. I’m surprised I haven’t seen Thomas fans glom onto all the cursed steam engine mimics and former steam engines that just had a diesel engine slapped inside in amusement parks. The Railway Series had a TON of rebuilds in it to solve issues with characters’ visual details (lol) which is one of those very realistic rail elements largely removed in the TV show. But it’s a lot more common to just see cars modified and repurposed in less cursed ways. It’s something that can also be very optimistic and used for change and retraining narratives, nods to how post-industrial cities adapted.

I’m very much an engineer who just likes campy musicals and is willing to take them very seriously vs a theater kid, which is why I have a weird mindset vs many since I see the practicalities of machinery first. Hilariously enough, I’ve technically worked on less-visible aspects of computer hardware manufacturing and have an even weirder perspective on tech because I’ve seen the surprising amount of 30+ year old equipment and antiquated designs used for things that aren’t consumer computers.

[bl4nk-card]

" Reminiscing With What is Left ",

{ mike morton ✭ . . . [angst?]

"What are you truly after? To remember what you miss, or to burn along with them?"

summary: the manor's games take a toll on mike, leading him to miss his home more than he ever has. to what extent has this cruel game affected him?

a/n: i wrote this with the black/purple tumblr theme on! i feel it's much more fitting :D

∴.·:¨¨:·. ☙.·:¨ ¨:·.♡ .·:¨ ¨:·. ❧.·:¨ ¨:·.∴ . . . . . . . . . . . .

In Mike's eyes, there was no such thing as exclusion; in his heart, he had always believed that one belonged somewhere whether it'd be with another --- a lover, a friend --- or, at the very least, somewhere. It may be in the arms of someone dearest, a place for solitude, or even the graveyard. For him, it had always been his home. Hullabaloo.

∴.·:¨¨:·. ☙.·:¨ ¨:·.♡ .·:¨ ¨:·. ❧.·:¨ ¨:·.∴ . . . . . . . . . . . .

11/24

The days at the manor wore long and thin, the torturous, mind-sick games played by whoever curses this hellhole constantly putting a test to the state of everyone. Even the most enthusiastic and the most joyous fell into the hands of inevitable despair, left to crawl their way back up to a farce image of hope and remembrance, only to get sent back down to the gates of their demise.

Leaving the manor was simply not an option. One must always reside within its premises, lest they wish to endure the unheard punishments of those who have gone missing under the words of the baron. For Mike, this rule was quite easy at first, an unchallenging promise held by Oletus Manor to protect its residents. Bedrooms for all, meals for everyone, a garden to wander about; what could so terribly go wrong?

The air was moist, granted the faint traces of fog emitting an air of eeriness and tension at the Arms Factory. That was day 1. 2, 3, 4, 5, ... 100, ...

The numbers increased and the atmosphere in the marvelous building grew colder. But that was a normal state of a place, was it not? Nothing was truly wrong.

Lakeside Village, they called this map. Mike often wondered to himself whether or not it had always been nighttime here; the trees dead, the remains of decaying boats, and the dry soil all hinting at a catastrophic event he missed. That was day 602, ... 700, ... 821... 9..? nine-hundred what?

The days grew less countable and manageable. Nothing was wrong. Perhaps his emotions, and he could feel the faintest bite of longing for his home. Day by day, his sought to return to the circus grew bigger, more desperate. It's okay, he told himself many times, the letter promised. The baron promised he would see his home again, no?

As if the graces of the gods themselves, Mike's mind snapped away from his deep thoughts and soon, as the match begun, him and his teammates plunged into a new map. Around him, the air felt ... fresh but cold. The smell around him intensified and there was almost a swift balance between nostalgia and joy. Upon entering the map, Mike's mind beamed. No mistake was it that he felt a certain desperation and sadness engulf his stiff body, hid hold tightening on the explosive in his hand.

A familiar tune filled his ears. It was the carousel. He remembered that very song the machine played as it spun gently, the horses cascading up and down in turns. Mike turned, catching sight of the glorious roller coaster. Waiting there were the empty seats. In an instant, it seems to be that nothing else was ... important. Considerably, there was no one getting chased just yet. Perhaps one ride wouldn't make too much of a difference...

Upon getting into the polished seat, Mike fumbles with the controls just as he always knew how to, and soon, he feels himself remembering the very moments he once felt his body in the air with other passengers of the roller coaster. The breeze remained just the same as ever, and at the highest point, he could see it all. He leaned over, eyes beaming at the sight of his home. Moonlit River Park at its best. Hullabaloo. He has returned here. Just as he has always belonged here..

By the side, he saw a child in possession of a sweet treat beside her mother, giggling with the joy Mike knew by heart.

Another boy waited in queue until the carousel was open. Another waited in line to enter the tent in which a performance was to play out soon.

Then, as if a direct arrow to this peaceful day, was a resounding scream from afar along with a loud pop and a blaring siren following right after. Just by his ear, he could hear the faintest pleas of some voice he hadn't...

Mike gets off the roller coaster, stopping at a 'station' and heading down the stairs with a satisfied smile on his face. At the very bottom of the stairs, children played, ran, and tagged as if it was their last ever game.

During his mini-journey to, Mike nearly stumbled upon a metal plate on the floor. As he looks down with curiosity, Mike flinches back as it flung open, revealing a dark passage beneath. In the back of his mind, he knew what this was. The... the dung--- e...?

What would ever be the reason that he goes in it if it sends him back to the manor? That cursed place filled with the trauma he beheld this very moment.

Why would he ever choose to--? He was right here, at Moonlit River Park --- at Hullabaloo, his home.

It seems to him that the baron kept his promise after all.

"The answers to your biggest questions will be answered", and it was answered. This was it. Perhaps no one was truly responsible for the doom of the circus. Maybe it was a foolish vision he'd seen before --- his home lit up in flames. Perhaps it'd never happen.

Why would he leave at all?

Forget the manor. Forget it all. Forget that monstrosity of a game mode called 'rank', called 'duo hunters'. Forget the food, forget the rooms he had once been so grateful for, forget it all. Forget the guilds, forget the people, forget the baron's recent request for a new hunter.

This was all that mattered. Mike was at home. Nothing else mattered, not even the screaming figure that he swore he saw. It faded slightly like a ghost. Brown hair, an animal beside the figure...

"Mike!"

Nothing else appeared of importance to him.

"Mike! Leave! What are you doing?!"

Around him was his home, his childhood, his dream!

"Mike---!"

As if practiced and planned, his hand reaches into his pocket, retrieving a device that held many commands upon the press of a button. It came blandly, less in colors and more on purpose, far from the colorful explosives Mike had but its use is just as destructive. Maybe even a little more.

He remembers something so well, this exact moment was not the most foreign. It was as if this was meant to happen --- or it has already happened. A memory to reenact.

"MIKE!"

With a simple press of a big button, all that Mike heard was a firework. A huge, booming firework to conclude seeing his home again. Then another, and another, another... A true parade it was. Colorful, enlightening, the very moment all the guests awaited. A beautiful star set to burst upon its death.

Here, Mike is the star, the key to the very joy of this place. Mike is in the spotlight like he had always been. Mike is the same man who remained tied to his home.

He was tired, exhausted, sick of the manor. That hell-bound manor, he was done with it. Now, he was given the chance to be at home again.

And he will do whatever it takes to ensure he never loses the circus again. He's lost it before; it won't happen twice.

∴.·:¨¨:·. ☙.·:¨ ¨:·.♡ .·:¨ ¨:·. ❧.·:¨ ¨:·.∴ . . . . . . . . . . . .

hum, hum, hum ...

hum, hum . . .

Smoke wafted in the air. The once-harmonious music around the circus, mixed by different sources all around, sounded broken. Some items seemed dirty, drained of the life they once had. The tent of the stage was close to ripping completely, tears and holes from areas here and there. The carousel's tune drifted off its exquisite norm.

Stretching of flesh and metal could be heard, along with the hums of a strained voice. Following the bundle of rotting flesh and pieces of materials bundled together, was its shadow. The shadow of the creature that hovered, that haunted the remains of the ruined circus.

But in its eyes, the circus remained just as beautiful as it had always been. There was no difference, not a single speck of it was out of place. In his eyes, the guests never left. They were always here. Truly, they'd never leave. never gone.

Drifting over to a secluded corner, the creature stumbles upon the very familiar hatch on the ground, closed, sealed shut. Its color remained rusted, except it seemed older. Bit by bit, the appearance of the closed dungeon was interrupted with clear droplets, interfering with the creature's already-broken vision. He wept for a reason he couldn't realize. It was such that:

Mike may have gotten what he wanted,

but piece by piece, it seems as if the manor gave Mike its own haunting answers, hand-picked carefully from the very gifts of cruelty and mockery. What went wrong? Everything. Every. Damn. Thing. Went wrong.

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What is the maintenance process for an automatic paper bag machine?

Investing in an automatic paper bag machine is a smart move for businesses looking to scale their packaging operations and deliver eco-friendly solutions. However, like any high-performance industrial equipment, it’s essential to maintain the machine properly to ensure consistent output, reduce downtime, and maximize its operational lifespan.

At Prakash Machineries Pvt Ltd, we not only manufacture high-quality automatic paper bag machines but also guide our clients on the best practices for maintaining them. In this article, we’ll walk you through the maintenance process—from daily upkeep to long-term care—so your machine stays efficient and productive for years to come.

Why Maintenance Matters

Regular maintenance isn’t just about avoiding breakdowns—it’s about:

Extending the life of your machine

Reducing unexpected production halts

Maintaining bag quality and consistency

Minimizing repair costs

Ensuring safety for your operators

A well-maintained machine operates smoothly, uses less energy, and supports faster return on investment.

Daily Maintenance Checklist

The foundation of a good maintenance routine starts with daily attention. These are simple yet effective steps your operator should follow every day:

✅ 1. Clean the Machine Surfaces

Wipe down the external surfaces to remove dust, paper scraps, and glue residue.

Make sure the rollers and cutters are clean to avoid smudges or improper cuts.

✅ 2. Inspect Glue Nozzles and Tanks

Check if glue tanks are full.

Clean any dried glue from nozzles to prevent clogging and uneven application.

✅ 3. Check Paper Roll Alignment

Ensure the paper is feeding smoothly without shifting or wrinkling.

Misalignment can affect bag folding, printing, and sealing.

✅ 4. Observe for Unusual Noises or Vibrations

Any unfamiliar sound might indicate a loose component or potential fault. Report and log such issues.

Weekly Maintenance Tasks

Once a week, your machine operators or technical team should perform a more detailed inspection:

🛠️ 1. Lubricate Moving Parts

Apply grease or oil to the bearings, gearboxes, and other moving components as per manufacturer recommendations.

Use high-quality lubricants to avoid buildup or corrosion.

🛠️ 2. Inspect Belts and Chains

Check for signs of wear or tension issues.

Replace any frayed belts or loose chains promptly.

🛠️ 3. Clean Sensors and Electrical Panels

Debris and dust near sensors can cause automation issues.

Use dry air to clean the control panel and PLC components safely.

🛠️ 4. Check Cutters and Blades

Inspect the sharpness and alignment of rotary or flat cutters.

Dull blades should be replaced or sharpened to ensure clean, accurate cuts.

Monthly Maintenance and Calibration

Once a month, it’s good practice to schedule deeper preventive checks:

🔧 1. Check Motor and Drive Units

Examine the servo motors, drive belts, and coupling systems.

Look for overheating signs, oil leaks, or abnormal wear.

🔧 2. Calibrate Sensors and PLC Systems

Recalibrate bag length sensors, glue sensors, and print registration systems.

Ensure your touchscreen panel (HMI) settings match production specifications.

🔧 3. Examine the Handle Unit and Printing Section (if equipped)

Inspect the handle-pasting mechanism for adhesive buildup or wear.

If using inline printing, clean the anilox rollers, plates, and ink tanks.

Spare Parts and Inventory Management

To minimize downtime, always keep critical spare parts in stock, such as

Cutting blades

Glue nozzles

Sensors

Belts

Bearings

Control relays

At Prakash Machineries Pvt. Ltd., we offer full support with spare part kits and supply you with a recommended inventory list during machine installation.

Operator Training and Documentation

A well-trained operator is your first line of defense against machine issues. Ensure your team:

Understands the machine’s interface and alert systems

Follows safety protocols during cleaning or part replacements

Keeps a maintenance logbook for tracking issues and routine service

We provide comprehensive training sessions during installation and offer ongoing support to help your operators become proficient in both operation and maintenance.

When to Call for Professional Service

While most maintenance tasks can be handled in-house, you should schedule a professional service visit in the following cases:

Sudden drop in production speed

Irregular bag sizes or gluing errors

Motor or PLC malfunctions

Electrical safety alerts

After 6–12 months of continuous use for full inspection

Our team at Prakash Machineries Pvt. Ltd. offers annual maintenance contracts (AMCs), remote troubleshooting, and on-site technician visits across India for complete peace of mind.

Conclusion: Maintenance = Maximum Uptime

An automatic paper bag machine is a powerful asset for any packaging business—but like any industrial machine, it performs best when well cared for. A simple, consistent maintenance routine can dramatically improve your machine’s efficiency, reduce breakdowns, and extend its lifespan.

At Prakash Machineries Pvt Ltd, we believe in building machines that last—and supporting them with expert guidance, spare parts, and proactive service.

Need help setting up a maintenance plan for your paper bag machine? Get in touch with Prakash Machineries Pvt Ltd today for personalized service support, spare part kits, and AMC options tailored to your machine and production goals.