#screen printing dryer

[kolormatrixscreenprinting]

Consider the volume of prints you typically handle. A larger screen printing dryer may be necessary for high-volume production, while smaller models are suitable for smaller-scale operations.

[keroneeng]

A Printing Drying Oven Guide

A printing drying oven is an essential piece of equipment in the world of printing and graphics. This specialized oven plays a crucial role in the printing process by efficiently drying inks, coatings, or adhesives on various substrates, such as paper, fabric, or plastic. It ensures that the printed materials come out fully cured and ready for further processing or distribution. To make the most of a printing drying oven, it's essential to follow a few key guidelines. First and foremost, you should carefully select the oven that matches your specific printing needs in terms of size, temperature control, and conveyor systems. Proper maintenance and regular cleaning are vital to ensure the oven's optimal performance and longevity. Monitoring and controlling temperature and airflow settings is critical to achieve consistent and reliable drying results. Safety measures, such as ensuring adequate ventilation and following manufacturer's guidelines, should be observed to prevent accidents. By adhering to these guidelines, a printing drying oven can enhance the efficiency and quality of your printing operations. Contact us today for all your industrial needs. For more detail visit at our website: https://kerone.co.in/ P.H: +91-22-48255071 / 72 Email-Id : info@kerone.com,sales@kerone.com

[swankyangles]

I forgot to follow up:

SO I BUILT A FLASH DRYER FROM SCRATCH... using 12 halogen "work light" bulbs wired together.

WIFE:

In order to get an amperage draw that I found acceptable enough to run in "The Murder Shed" , I wired the 12 halogen bulbs in 4 groups of three, with each of the 3 being in series, with the 4 groups in parallel. I saw the concept of the "dim bulb limiter" and realized that I could limit the draw of the halogen similarly. So technically the bulbs are underpowered, which is ideal because I'm looking for short bursts of IR/heat, that get warm FAST and cover the whole area, whilst also blowing in air to eject the hot water vapor. Halogen lights unfiltered put out some amount of ultraviolet light, however since I'm underpowering them and I'm looking for the lower end of the spectrum anyways, that's not really a huge hazard. I'm almost done, but the hardest part so far has been getting it on a stand that can swing in and out of the way while I'm screen printing.

[online-stalker]

Did you ever finish the floor layout thingy? (Yes it was me who asked)

Oh! I did completely forget- but yes, I got two examples of floor plans

This one which is most likely, but recently there has been a lot of mentions of stairs leading to a different floor plan which would look more like this?

Though no matter what layout their is only one bedroom. Both of these layouts are actually from New Jersey apartments, though the first one is edited smaller. As I took out the dinning table.

Technically speaking more then likely the first one is the one Stalker would have. As the other is likely more money and Stalker doesn’t have that much money. Speaking that they don’t have a degree, or education.

Now getting to what things look like inside of the apartment, it is generally quite bare. Their life is for the viewers, it didn’t see much value in objects. The apartment was also quite dark before Stripes moved in. Now days the lights over the kitchen seats are always on, giving little light over the apartment

Just in case Stripes wakes up there’s always light so they do not have to wake up in darkness. (If it helps stalker too they would never say.) the light does make Stalker more sleepy as well. After being trained to sleep in the light more often then not.

They do miss the darkness, but the warm glow has started to make things more homely. After Rory showed up more and more things have started to seem that way.

There’s enough light in the day that turning on any more lights isn’t needed, but they do, do so when they use the kitchen.

Everything is very clean, mostly because things are left unused more often then not. That again has since changed that Rory and other viewers have visited them.

The only place with any true mess, is their office. Which sadly neither of the floor lay outs show. But it’s right beside the bedroom, making their bedroom smaller by about 5 feet.

The office is around the size of the second bedroom on the second floor layout. There’s paper on papers, messy stacks of things with writing the long lost sense. Writing going from need and printed, almost as if it was a printer instead of a camera, to messy lines, as if a doctor had to write a prescription.

Records over records, some have different dark stains. Coffee perhaps? But that doesn’t make sense does it. Anyway, the room is filled with screens, cameras, and all types of parts.

A bunch of folders, and binders. Almost looking as if it was of a detective who was overworking on their cases at their home. There was little room to walk where their wasn’t paperwork, and books. Records, everything was everywhere.

The desk had a computer siting there with a photo album siting right in front of it. Messy photos all about some with scribbles and scratches of writing. Evidence of work all around it.

The office in its messiness is completely different then all the other rooms, while they look almost completely unused, the office looks like it was always in a sort of dismay.

Another place where things could be found was a small place next to the tv in the living room. There’s a few photos, one of all the anons that had visited it’s home. Along with one of Stripes, and a blurry one of max. There was also a pizzia sticker legged by Steve.

In the kitchen there’s a closest right nested to where you enter, it holds a vacuum and cleaning things for the home.

The next closest is in the bed room, on the right side, farthest from the door, holds all of stalker’s belongings. Clothing, shoes, jewelry, some extra parts and papers.

Their dresser, which now had some clothing that did not belong to them, messily put in there and taken out (no matter how neatly put in). In the left console of the closest layer a small white safe.

There’s one more closet in the living room, a bit bigger then the one in the kitchen. It holds it’s folded wheelchair, and the washer and dryer. Along with extra towels and other things above them.

There has since been a throw blanket moved from the bedroom to the couch. As well as move things moved around, since Stripes is there to live in it.

Stalker sets out on Sunday or Monday to clean everything to put it back in order. It’s not perfect in a hour. It used to bother them, but they don’t care anymore. Truly they like the lived in feel rather then the mucky gray,dull, clean and perfect way it looked before.

Stalker was almost happy with how it’s apartment looks now. Even if it is no longer perfect. It’s lived in, and perhaps, just perhaps, that’s better.

[leggerefiore]

Home Again

cw: fluff, post-cyrus in hisui, epilogue of sorts to this fic

pairing: Cyrus/Reader

You crashed against the couch, nearly exhausted from the day. Cyrus had followed in closely behind you, careful to lock the door and take a look around the apartment. How long had it been since you last felt the familiar comfort of this home? You were suddenly taken one night in your sleep by Arceus, and everything was almost exactly as you had left it.

It had been even longer since the blue-haired man had been home. All the food in the fridge that was not some kind of preserved was a horrifying abomination to peer in at, while a load of laundry still rested in the dryer, the air was still OK summer temperatures despite the drop down to autumn climate outside, and the bed was still made on one side.

Cleaning would come, yes, but not right now. Not after having fallen from a portal yet again to a different place in both time and space and the stress of a certain red-headed woman crying about the return of the Galactic Boss. She literally began to call the other two commanders, to which Cyrus had to stop her by stating he would like to do it himself. You were just standing there in your Galaxy Team uniform, trying not to wonder why she was bringing flowers up to the top of Mt. Coronet. Thankfully, you both soon managed to depart and make the arduous journey home from the middle of Sinnoh to Veilstone.

You watched as he found his laptop from where you had hidden it away. He took a seat at the table and instantly found himself buried in whatever he had saved to it. You lifted your head with a slight curious glance at him. Well, you suppose he did suffer the most out of the two of you when forced away from technology. Hisui had next to none. You were thankfully for the random Rotom catalogue pieces that fell through the portals, as those at least kept him entertained (as did the Rotom you captured for him).

But, now, it hit you.

You really were back home.

What must have been a year spent away in Hisui going through what felt trial after trial after trial, then to be given your boyfriend by pure chance and have to help him adapt to the strange world you were both stuck in was now centuries into the past. You were back in modern Sinnoh. A train had been ridden home. You both had stopped in a convenience store for a ready-made meal. Gazing out the window, you could see the twinkling of electric lights. Your clothing suddenly felt odd. Cyrus had already changed while he searched for the laptop.

You pulled a picture out from your jacket and gazed at it. Before you had departed back to the modern era, you had demanded a picture be taken of you, Cyllene and Cyrus. A memento to not forget the time you had spent together. It was strange to think she was gone now. You could never speak to her again or witness her funny little quirks or how she would secretly dote on her Abra and subordinates. Her legacy was all that remained.

And it sat at your table, hopefully not trying to pick up where it left its plans off.

You brought the picture to him and broke his attention from the screen. “Hey, do you think you could scan this, just in case we somehow lose it?” you asked him. Cyrus stared at it for a moment, clearly at a loss for words. Perhaps it was difficult for him to truly view himself as her descendant within the same era as her, but now it was plainly obvious. Where his parents had failed to show him the love of a family, she had succeeded. Not once had she made the same harsh rejection he had come to expect from his parents.

“Of course,” he agreed, “It is a precious artefact.” You smiled at him and decided to sit with him at the table. The picture now safely in his possession. You frowned at the emblem printed on the back of his laptop. Team Galactic… You had no idea what had become of it. It had already been falling apart after Charon had tried taking it over, but you knew it would almost certainly come back together with the Cyrus back at the helm.

“… Mmm, we'll need to groceries… Do you think your bank account still works?” you asked, breaking the silence between his ceaseless typing.

“It's as I left it,” he replied, “I did leave Saturn in charge of everything. It appears he barely touched anything.” Food was secured at the very least. Where would he go from here? He technically still had companies that he was in charge of if Saturn had taken care of what Cyrus had left to him. “… I am not planning to attempt my plans with the Red Chain again, please calm down,” he suddenly closed the laptop to look at you, “My goals to complete spirit must be possible… I will have to search elsewhere for it, but you may be rest easy that I have moved away from my previous plans.”

You felt your shoulders drop in relief. His eyes reflected the genuineness in his words. It seemed like everything was truly over with that spoken. Maybe you could dare even let your guard drop again and live a normal life. “Arceus – I was terrified you were going to end up like Volo,” you sighed. Cyrus's face grew dark.

“… Even when that child stood opposed to me, I never intended to harm her,” his gaze met yours, “Furthermore, I would never harm you specifically. I know that I would have to deal with you being an obstruction should I try again, too. And seeing as you are willing to risk your life…” Cyrus's gaze broke from yours. You felt a laugh nearly leave you. Oh, so the line was drawn when you might end up dying. That was certainly interesting.

“Yeah, yeah, I don't want you to die either, Cy,” you smiled and brought your hand to hold his, “… Well, as long as you know that if you try to pull anything insane again, I will stop you, let's just forget it. I'd rather figure out what's going to happen now.” He nodded. The world may not forgive him, but he was at least aware that he could work to change himself.

“Then, tomorrow, let's go grocery shopping,” Cyrus gave a rare soft smile, “We have countless things to get caught up on…” His eyes darted back to his laptop.

Yes, there were many, many things for you two to follow what happened in your absence.

Not to mention that laundry really needed to be folded.

You began to get up to do just that when you heard a loud banging on your door and sobbing. Cyrus seemed to ignore it as he opened the laptop again. You stepped towards the apartment door and peered out the peephole.

“Maaasterrrrr Cyyyyyyruuussss,” a familiar dark-blue haired man cried on the other side, clawing at the door like an upset Meowth.

“Saturn's here!”

“Don't let him in.”

[phosphorescentspaceman]

what if,,, it was a college au (yogs)

ha now i have all of the americans' attention - its actually a university au because i DO NOT UNDERSTAND your system. at all. (this isn't even really relevant)

SO xephos is a biomedical translation PHD student who did his undergraduate's degree and honours year at another, more prestigious university at his parents were Mega donors at - he's kinda taken this chance to run off and escape the choke-hold they have over his options. he's staying at the postgraduate student housing because the university is paying for it - he has 30 dollars to his name on a good day and is Not Used To That, but he's loving having options!

honeydew is a mature aged student (literally just means he enrolled over 21, but here specifically hes like 35 to xeph's 25) doing his masters (research) in sustainable mining practices and they somehow become very good friends after he finds xephos staring blankly at the washer/dryer because xeph's never used one more than 5 years old and that thing is from the 70s

lalna is doing his doctorate of medicine and he's been lumped into the postgrad dorms because he got into medicine by completing a degree of biomedical science first!

the three of them share a kitchen. its a ride.

lalna keeps forgetting he has online quizes and has to take them minutes before the deadline because someone (xeph) double checks to make sure hes done them.

xeph's phd advisor is related to the guy advising honeydew's masters (its fumblemore and swampy) they do not like each other and the rivalry via the achievements of their students is legendary. the rest of the staff assume honeydew and xeph must hate each other.

sometimes xeph can't be bothered making food but he has Texture Issues so he'll regularly be seen eating one whole raw carrot, or salad bowl full of diced water melon. the nurses are like 'you aren't gonna get scurvy, which is new a different for us, but you might die of a b12 deficiency so.'

lalna keeps eating his food other the sink because he doesn't want to do dishes. honeydew just eats straight from the pot for the same reason. xeph doesn't even cook. everyone is amazed at how clean their kitchen is and assume they must be so on top of their lives.

all 3 of them have random medications to take and always forget their own, but not the other's. there is always a 5 minute kitchen huddle each morning where they rattle off the other's random crap. xeph keeps trying to dodge the b12 tablets because they taste and smell terrible in a way that is difficult to describe. honeydew has threatened to wrap it in cheese and cram it down his throat more than once.

lalna thinks its funny to slide ominous notes under their doors - it is, in fact, funny, but the RN saw him do it and he had to take a 3hr long sensitivity training activity run by the university.

honeydew forgets his key all the time, so he just leaves his window open. he's very short though, so getting in via the window requires a pretty significant feat. of athleticism every time.

there is a possum that breaks into their kitchen at 1am via the broken screen door none of them have reported over fears they'd have to pay for it. they keep finding little hand prints on their bread. they are numb to this.

[anti-workshop]

SHAKY HANDS STICKER CLUB

Hey friends! I alluded to a big thing coming and THIS IS IT!

Patreon sucks ass but it's sort of the name of the game for fundraising things, and we need to raise funds, so here we are!

Do you like stickers? Do you like buttons? Do you like queer leftist shit as well as unique pieces of art you can adhere to the world or wear on your person? Please join our sticker club! You get stickers every month and maybe button/s if you want!

Check it out here -> STICKER CLUB

Also! More short designs will be coming soon! So stay tuned!

Read more below if you wanna know why we're doing this. Warning, it's long and sort of sad.

We started screen printing from one of our basements in 2020. It was, needless to say, the worst possible time to try and start a business. We barely survived and were able to move into the basement of the Milwaukee IWW's new union hall so we could all split the rent and make it affordable.

That was back in 2021. We were still struggling, but through word of mouth we got jobs and kept the lights on. We weren't really able to pay ourselves, but we all had second or third jobs so it was (mostly) fine.

We printed from that basement for about a year (and I hit my head on the ceiling and doorways hundreds of times) when a fellow wobbly and co-op enthusiast invited us to join his co-op as a DBA (doing business as). He sold us on the idea by offering to subsidize our workers' comp, general liability and book keeping expenses so we could try and grow sustainably. After some meetings we agreed to join as a DBA and we put our faith in this fellow worker whose intentions seemed pure and generous. We'll call him G.

Throughout the co-op's history some of our worker-owners' personal lives have been pretty chaotic. Working multiple jobs is stressful enough as a lot of you know, and so is navigating the continued stress of covid, having kids who are dealing with being bullied for being trans, all of us having major depression, adhd, etc. etc. We relied on each other, kept the lights on and just forged ahead, but there were some jobs that we delivered late or very late because of the chaos. G was understandably frustrated by these setbacks, as was I.

Because of the chaos, for about 5 months I was literally the only person working at the shop, performing literally every task from emails to quotes and mockups to invoices to pre-press, press, post-press and fulfillment. The Goncahrov shirts y'all purchased literally paid our rent, and I cannot thank you enough for that.

Then a fellow worker we'll call Z joined the co-op and saved my life. Z is amazing and I love him and owe him so much. He and I just kept at it and did what we could to care for our fellow workers who were struggling while away from the shop.

For about a year we've been trying to get an equipment loan to improve our processes because our little 4-color press and our flash and conveyor dryers suck ass. They're functional, extremely difficult to use, and they make our final product inconsistent and screen printing is a nightmare on them. It was all we could afford so we made the best of it and pursued a loan from a really cool cooperative lender that lends to other co-ops.

After a year of paperwork, making reports of our revenue and costs, analyzing our processes to improve them and show we were a viable business, they finally granted us the loan! We got a new press, better dryer, more screens and an incredible water-based digital printer/plotter combo that allows us to do stickers and decals and banners and buttons and other cool shit like that.

While we were applying for the loan, we were also pursuing a Collective Bargaining Agreement with the PPPWU (formerly the GCC) because we would be the only worker-owned co-op in our region (and maybe the US) to have the allied label, the most coveted union bug for printing. The local president was amazing to work with and we finally got awarded our union label and started paying dues.

It was around the time we began seeking the loan that G was doing and saying things we were a little confused by. He unilaterally fired two worker-owners in his co-op after months of mediation on my part to try and address interpersonal conflict. It's my fault for not seeing the writing on the wall then, but because he had done so much to help us, we justified his actions to look past our concerns.

Then, when those workers were gone he started to get abusive in text threads towards me and the other print folks, and we still looked past it because he had a lot going on in his life and that kind of stress can bring out the worst in anyone.

Well, a few weeks ago it came to our attention that we don't own our print co-op anymore, and we functionally stopped owning it once we signed on as a DBA. We thought we were all worker owners, but it turns out only I am, because I paid in at the time when I had the money. The abuse has escalated to the point that Z has quit, leaving only me the original creator the our co-op who we'll call M.

We're sort of trapped now. We're on the hook for rent at the shop until 2025, as well as the payments for our $30k loan, in a business that's been swept out from under us by someone we trusted who has become toxic and plainly cruel in his treatment of us.

Despite the stress and never really paying ourselves, I've enjoyed learning water-based screen printing and making garments people actually wear! It's been amazing! As the anti-workshop, we've been able to fund programs for our local IWW, the local tenants union and the local pro-palestine, anti-war committee. That has felt so good.

We've made our space an extremely queer, worker-focused spot for folks to learn the ins and outs of design and printing, which I am so proud of.

We're still here. We're still printing. We need to raise the funds to buy our equipment back by paying off this loan, so we can stop being a DBA of G's co-op and be our own entity again.

Failing that, we'll see what happens.

[faegoddessog]

 Seventy Two Hours of Bliss Ch.27/41

Chapter  27: "Don't say I didn't warn you"

Chapter Warnings: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only, Unprotected PiV, hand job,

Series Masterlist 

Series Summary:

You are neighbors with Austin Butler on the Gold Coast of Australia just prior to shooting Elvis. You become just friends because he is taken. However, after he is single again, you both find out just how attracted you are to one another and things get unrelentingly hot.

SERIES WARNING: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only,  here there be lemons.

Authors Notes: I started writing this while remodeling my kitchen, so that informed the slightly quirky narrative. It starts slow, but once it heats up, it is on fire. I have tried to pull facts from RL as much as I could, but obviously there are some assumptions and flat out dreamy wishes  involved here. 

Chapter  27: "Don't say I didn't warn you"

It takes about 10 minutes to recover.  Him from cumming and  you from…well… not cumming. He doesn’t talk, just holds you as he leans on the counter, legs crossed at the ankle. You are snuggled under his chin, ear against his chest, listening to his heart beat and unconsciously matching your breathing to his. 

A timer goes off, and Austin checks the film, the dryer has done its job well. He asks you to turn on the regular light, you both blink in the brightness. He tucks his shirt back in, you smooth your hair and wipe your face again. You both check one another over for tell tale signs of what you have been up to. Satisfied, well he is anyway, you retrieve all your things and open the door. 

“Wow, that was fast, that dryer is a game charger, huh,” says the young attendant,  “let me show you our new scanner?”  He was excited to tell you all about their new very fancy digital scanner when you arrived.  Austin decides to try it. And after being shown the basics, Austin sets to it.

You go in search of snacks, knowing it’ll take a bit. You end up walking around the block down to Austin Street, of all the fucking names in the world,  and getting some pork and chicken skewers with some rice for each of you at a place called Banh Mi Factory.  The walk does you some good, calms you down as you take in people going about their everyday business. 

When you get back about 45 minutes later, Austin is almost done.  He motions you over to see.

You look over his shoulder at the screen as each image comes up. There are several good ones at Natural Bridge; in front of the waterfall, against the tropical trees and rocks. The are like artsy vacation photos. 

Then there are the ones of Goddess You naked in the forest.  In one,  You are laying naked in the water, Your hair is streaming around Your head and Your hands carelessly half covering Your tits. Staring into the camera like You were about to hand out a fucking sword.  It’s amazing. 

“I’m gonna print that one, and a few others here in a minute.” he says, munching a chicken satay skewer.

There are a few of him that you took. One really strikes you. It is of him looking directly at the camera with a shy smile that curls his lip up. So simple, but you need it. 

“Can I have that one?”  he nods and writes it down. 

There are a couple of you in your sexy dress from behind with your arms up. The one with you looking to the side is amazing. The muscles of your back are gorgeously highlighted by the light from the sliding door. You look like an actual model, damn.  

You start giggling at the Charlie’s Angel one, providing the soundtrack for the next one of you laughing. 

“I absolutely love this one, it’s my favorite, ” says Austin, looking up at you, “it’s so very you.” 

You respond with a kiss, then wrap yourself around him from behind. 

The one with you looking down at him, your dress bunched in your hands almost exposing yourself is sexy as fuck. The closeups of your dripping pussy with your own finger inside you, a drop running down your inner thigh look intimately artistic. Then he starts in on the ones of you tied up: you gagged with the rope and your arms tied up above you, one with your ass in the air tied to the ottoman. 

“Wow,” you growl in his ear, “I didn't know looking at myself would be so hot.”

“Um yeah, you are fucking hot Kitten,” he kisses your cheek. 

Once he has them all digitally on a USB stick. He decides to print a handful of these from the negatives, old school. So back into the darkroom he goes. 

You decide to wander the gallery. The exhibit is by a photographer named Alex Buckingham. There is one that just strikes your fancy called “The Dive”. You buy a print, deciding to use it in your Uncle’s remodel.  

The attendant tells you about the tucked away coffee shop across the street. You go sit for a few minutes sipping coffee. You snag one to go for Austin.

When he emerges he looks quite pleased with himself. You hand him his drink. 

“How do you know just what I need, Kitten,” he kisses your cheek. You walk out of there with several 8X10’s in an envelope and a very happy man. 

The uber ride back to the hotel is quiet. Austin looks glued to his phone while you seem to stare out the window shifting uncomfortably in your seat and randomly tapping your hand. To outside eyes it would look like he is inattentive and you are pissed about it. In actuality, Austin is playing with all the settings on the vibe and you are trying viciously not to cum in your already soaked panties. 

Once at the Emporium, Austin stops by the concierge to chat about dinner reservations. You wait a few steps behind, arms crossed and antsy. 

“Good,” he says, placing his hand on your waist and guiding you to the elevators, “we have reservations for 5:45 at a place called Bacchus. So we have about an hour and ½ to get ready.” 

“Good, that should be enough time,” you shoot him a sexy glance. 

As you step onto the elevator, your pussy starts vibrating, hard. You walk to the back corner and turn around. You are antsy; crossing your arms, shaking your leg,  rubbing your  thumb along your lip. You must look like some kind of drug addict. Well, Austin is a fucking stimulant, as hot as he is leaning up against the opposite back corner, just watching you with those sexy blue eyes, a tiny, amused smile on his mouth. 

Fuck. As soon as the door closes, you are going to pounce on him. You may not make it all the way to the suite before your clothes are off.

Unfortunately, a person steps into the elevator with you at the last second. They smile at you and turn around pushing their floor. Austin looks at his phone. Changing the pattern of the vibe and watching you out of the corner of his eye. 

The buzzing is starting to make you feel a little numb, which is honestly a good thing since you are so turned on. What might that 3rd person do if you just started humping Austin in the elevator? You are seriously considering it when you hear a ding and they get off  a couple floors below yours.  

The second the elevator doors close you rush, crashing  together in the middle of the elevator, lips, chests, hands. 

“Fuck, turn it off,” you beg. He quickly does. His mouth is on your neck, sinking his top teeth into the meaty part. It makes your knees buckle under you. 

“I want you to know,” he whispers in your ear, holding you up, “that before this day is over,  I am going to have filled all three of your holes with my cum before I let you have your orgasm.” He shows you his phone, he has set a 45 minute timer, “but that’s all the time we have right now.” 

DING! Challenge accepted. 

The doors open and there is a handsome man in a well cut business suit waiting for the elevator. He takes in the disheveled sight of you both and flashes Austin a knowing smile before stepping aside to let you out. 

“Hello,” you say and wink at him as you walk by, leading Austin by the hand to your door.

He nods his head. Just before the doors close you hear, “Have fun.”  

“Oh we will’ says your demon, loud. You hear a laugh behind the elevator door. 

Once you are inside the suite, you turn around to Austin, he pulls you in for a deep kiss. 

You are so horny, you can control neither the shaking of your hips, nor the moans that his kiss swallows. 

Then his hands are unzipping your dress, stopping to unhook your bra half way and pulling both off your shoulders to fall to the ground around your now bare feet. His clothes soon follow. 

“Spread your legs,” he says, one finger gliding along the inside of your waistband, his other hand  pressing your back to the wall. Slowly, he pulls your sodden panties gently away from your vulva, “Good lord Kitten, I’ve never seen you this sopping wet before you’ve cum.”

He undoes the magnet and fishes the vibe out from between your lips. His fingers brushing against your inner lips and your clit make you whimper and scoop your pelvis towards him in a silent appeal for more. He brings the wet toy up to his mouth trailing a long line of juices from its tip,  and licks it off. Wrapping his tongue around it and teasing you, he knows you would rather he drink straight from the source. 

He places the vibe on the entry table, then strips off your panties, leaving the drenched unicorns on the pile of clothes. 

You can’t stand being this close, naked, and not have him buried inside you. You pull his head down to kiss him while pushing him backwards across the room. His hands are on your backside, kneading your ass. 

He sits down when he hits the bed. You don’t stop pushing him, crawling on top of him as he scoots to the middle and lays down. 

“Turn around, I want you to watch,” he indicates the wall across from the bed that is all mirrors. You turn around, straddling his hips as he holds his hard cock upright.  

“Oh yes, this, this is what I fucking need!” you moan as you slide down on him. After so much buzzing all day, the sensation of being filled feels incredible. 

You rock back and forth on him, grinding him deep into you, moaning. You lift up as far as your bent legs will let you, watching him slide out of you. He grabs your arms, pulling them to your low back. He holds them there, pushing to support your back. 

“Watch as I fuck you,” he commands. 

In the mirror, you see yourself arched back, your tits  pressed forward. He starts with slow strokes, flexing his glutes.  It is blissfully agonizing to watch him slide in and out of you as he thrusts his hips up, knowing you won’t have release from it. 

It is erotic to watch.  You see now why people video themselves fucking. You wish there was a camera set up now. 

 He speeds up. Your breath comes faster. Your head falls back. It feels so good. 

“No, watch,” he tilts your head forward. 

He starts pounding you hard, knees bent, using his feet for leverage. You start to squeal as you feel an orgasm building, building. Your demon considers not telling him and just cumming. But no, that’s not the fun of this game,  you tell her.  

“Oh fuck Austin, I’m gonna cum,” you declare as your demon rattles her chain.

He pulls out as you rise up and pitch forward between his legs, ass in the air.  Breathing to try to regain some control. You really want to play this game, but you are not sure how much more you can take. 

“Oh Kitten, that’s gorgeous,”  he says after a minute or two. You feel fingers petting you from behind, running on either side of your labia, then applying pressure so your lips swell outwards. Then another finger is stroking those puffed lips. You moan and squirm into his touch. You can feel his other hand moving on his cock, rubbing the tip in your wet folds.

 Reaching through your legs, you grasp him, still wet with your juices. You slide your hand up and down. 

He pushes that finger inside your exposed slit, pressing down.

“Oh god yes,” you moan as he slides across your g-spot. Your hand grips his dick tighter. 

“Let’s see how much you can take before you make me stop,” he says, slipping another finger in and starting to move across that toe curling site. As he speeds up, making sloppy, squashy sounds. You feel flecks of moisture spattering his cock. Jesus, it's amazing. 

“Careful,” he taps your hand on his cock. Realizing you were gripping rather tight, you let go of his dick.

You start rocking back and forth on his fingers, moaning into the covers. “Oh, Oh, OH!” each time you impale yourself. 

He rubs his thumb  side to side on your clit, you squeal “FUCK!” and pull away from him shaking. 

“That was fucking close,” you blow out, trying not to clench your pussy. 

“Come up here baby and turn around,” he says, hands coaxing your hips back towards him. You turn around, straddling him, his cock jutting out between your legs. 

“Austin, if you fuck me right now, I am going to cum,” you say seriously. 

“Alright,” he reaches for the lube on the bedside table, “then stroke me.”

 He drizzles a little lube on his tip. With him in your hand, it looks like it’s your own cock you are  about to jerk off. It’s fucking hot. 

“When I’m close, I am going to fuck that pussy, I want it full before we leave again,” he puts his hands behind his head so he can watch you. God you love when he talks dirty like that. 

“Tell me how you like it,” you say, starting with simple up and down caresses in a light fist. Maybe focusing on him for a while will help you calm down.  

‘Unlikely,’ whispers your demon, ‘ just look at him.’ SHHHH!

“A little tighter,” he says. You comply.  “Uh huh, like that.”

After a dozen or so strokes, you slide your hand up and over his tip and down between your first and middle finger. His stomach contracts a little, his abs popping out then relaxing back. 

“Oh lord, that, do that,” he moans. You sprinkle ‘that’  in between the long strokes on his shaft.

“Faster now,” he instructs, licking his lips and curling back up to watch you jerk him off. 

Your pace increases.  You steady him with your other hand at the base and add in a little twist toward the tip. His front teeth are savage against his full bottom lip. Holy fuck he looks hot, your juices threaten to drip onto his balls. 

“I need a little more lube,” he says.

 You stop and let a long drip of saliva fall into your hand. 

“Oh fuck, that was hot, babe,” his voice is a whispered staccato.

The level of his arousal and your current control of it, is intoxicating. 

‘You are on top here,’ your succubus tells you, ‘ you are in control of his orgasm, he is your quarry.’ Your eyes narrow and the corner of your mouth curls up in a demonic smile.

After a couple minutes you can feel him getting close. To the delight of your succubus, you stop. Taking your hands off him, his cock bounces, red and swollen, against his stomach.  

 His face is a mix of confusion, concern, and betrayal. 

Your demon suddenly wishes he was tied up so you could really fuck with him. Visions of  bringing him to the edge over and over again while he is bound and helpless flash in your mind’s eye.  Then watching as the slightest touch spurts his cum onto… 

He reaches for himself, you lean forward and clamp down on his wrists. Hovering over him on all fours, you tease him with your pussy, rolling your hips back and forth, spreading his cock with your juices. Damn it feels good to be on top.

“Beg me,” you say with your wicked grin, “beg me to make you cum.”  You see him weighing his options. He pushes against your grip a little, you are stronger than he realized. Yeah, he can overpower you if he wants, especially with lube on your hands. But what fun is that? 

“Please,” his voice is strained, “please make me cum inside you.” 

You lean down to his ear and whisper, “that’s a good boy,” and lightly lick his earlobe. 

You let go of his wrists and sit back, pulling his throbbing dick up between your legs. Licking between your thumb and forefinger then wrapping them in a ring around his head you slip up and down rubbing his sensitive ridge and frenulum.  The first three fingers  and thumb on your other hand are below, gliding on either side of his shaft, hands working in concert.

His eyes go huge, pupils dark with desire. His mouth hangs open in an exhale.

You speed up as his breath huffs from him and his abs flex tight. His hands are gripping your knees, ready in case you let him go again. His eyelids flicker  over his rolled back eyes, his head droops back. 

You slow down.

His head snaps up.

“I’m so close, please,” he says through gritted teeth, “please don’t stop.”  You rise up and sink him into your pussy.

“Omigod you are so hot inside,” his body shakes under you.

His hands grip your hips like steel, pulling you down onto him as he furiously plunges in and out of you. You want to clamp down on him, but it feels too good and you know it’ll make you cum. You are miraculously still willing to play the game now that you got a little control back. 

“That’s it, cum for me baby, fill me with it,” you urge him on, your voice pitching higher as pleasure winds tight inside you.

He thrusts half a dozen more times into you. Each thrust  pushes you farther to the edge, making you bite your lip and moan. Each thrust punctuated by a syllable “So. Fu-cking. Good. Kit-ten.”  The last is followed by a deep thrust hard into you. Growling out a prolonged ‘nnnnn uggghhh’ as his abs pull him up towards you. He is shaking  and gritting his teeth as he shoots his load into you.

He collapses back on the bed, sweat popping up on his brow, chest heaving. 

“Well, that was fun,” you say after he gets a few big breaths in. You feel him clench and his cock bounces against your g-spot, making you  shiver on top of him.  His lip curls into a smile. 

You pull off of him, cum still inside you and lay down next to him, head on his sweaty chest. Your demon settles down now that she got a little authority back. 

He puts his arms around you, holding you tight against him and sighs. “Thanks babe, I’ve hit the jackpot of girlfrien…zzz.” Then he is snoring.  Boys. 

Wait, did he just call you his girlfriend? I mean… fuck what does that mean? Was it a post-coitus  Freudian Slip? Is that a thing?  Did he mean it?

‘ Okay, well, you kind of are, in like everything but title,’ your demon chimes in. 

Huh? 

‘ Well duh, you feed him, you fuck him, you put him to bed…. You fuck him more, he fucks you more… over and over…. Mmmm, yummy. He takes you on a romantic weekend getaway. He buys you expensive dresses ."

 She is making too much sense, despite the lecherous interludes. 

Ok just ONE dress! And he actually says ‘I love you’… and you love him. His favorite picture of you is of you laughing like a loon.  You start to smile. 

 ‘Yup,’ your demon says, ’ See, girlfriend.’

 Shit. 

But is it though? Is it shit? Are you not the happiest you’ve ever been in your whole life? Does he not make you giddy when he walks into the room? 

‘Does he not check all your sex boxes and then some?’ you can almost see the light glint off her horns. Randy little imp. 

You have to admit that listening to his heart beat in this moment, curled up against his chest feels like the very thing you have been steering blindly towards your whole life. Maybe it’s time to take off the fucking blinders. Scary. 

‘What are you so afraid of?’

The future

‘There is only one way to get out of the future, and we already faced that shit. Next!’

 Of being hurt. Of hurting him. 

‘Ppffft, you know that’s just a risk of love and part of being human. You are stronger than that.’

I’m afraid of being too tied down to accomplish all I want to do.

‘Fear is the mind killer.’ Dammit, no fair bringing DUNE into this! 

‘Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration’ .  

You take a big breath in and blow it out.  FUCK. She is right, little bitch. 

“I will face my fear,” you whisper into his pectoral muscles. He stirs and holds you closer. 

Wow, that is the most help your inner demon has ever been. Who knew she was more than just a sex fiend. 

‘Layers baby, I got layers’

You fucking love her. 

Your mini anxiety attack abated, you decide to jump in the shower and use the enema bottle you brought to get good and clean. After all, you know what’s coming. 

When you get out, you hear his alarm going off in his pants in the pile of clothes. 

“Hey hunny, it’s time to get ready to go,” you pat his chest on your way to turn off the alarm. 

“Hey baby,” he stretches, ”you back?” 

“Huh?” you say, confused.

“Well that demon was here fucking me and she is something to contend with,” he smiles at you.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you. She likes to play, especially with you.” 

[andmaybegayer]

Last Monday of the Week 2023-08-21

If we're being honest, the first show I go to in Europe being a South African band is probably the only way I was going to get the ball rolling.

Listening: Ruff Majik is doing their Europe tour so I dragged a friend along. If I had a nickel for every psychedelic surf rock fantasy themed band from Pretoria I'd have two nickels. The two accompanying acts were Rocky and his Bootlegs, and Olaf Olafsonn and the Big Bad Trip.

Rocky was apparently doing their first show, solid performance although they did make the decision to spend five minutes in the middle of a song doing sonic landscape bullshit on their pedalboards and then come back in with a dubious closer. That's what we go to live shows for though so I can't complain. Literally cannot find hide nor hair of these guys online, which is a shame because I liked some of their stuff.

Olaf Olafsonn and the Big Bad Trip is a metalish themed psychedelic rock band who performed in some really good masks. Do you like really stupid loud guitar and a synth in there for some reason? This is for you. I do not yet speak Czech so I did not catch the names of any of these songs. Here's something I picked at random.

And Ruff Majik, I'm finally going to link their song "She's Still A Goth" which they are so so proud of. It is incredibly self indulgent. It is not by any means their best song.

Reading: Finished up The Will to Battle, moving on to Perhaps The Stars. The Will to Battle went in broad strokes as I expected, it's the build up, but it is of course still weird as hell. I enjoy the closer look at the despair that surrounds the Utopians, and the reveal that Mycroft has been hallucinating a cast of corpses at all times really makes me wonder what was fictitiously cut from the earlier books by 9A.

I'm sure that Palmer has at least a good chunk of the pre-edit version of those histories written out somewhere. I am much less clear in my vision of what Perhaps the Stars might be like.

Watching: I will link this video of a guy building a nightmare capacitor bank and popping a 500A fuse.

Dudes Rock

Making: 3D printing on hold until I get a sealed bag to store the filament I bought, because my house is so extremely humid all the time and I don't want to ruin a kilogram of filament. I'll invest in a dryer at some point but for now just having sealed dry storage is a must. I've been sketching a lot of designs out though, direct air coolers for my laptop, mounts for taps, filter holders and other camera stuff, etc.

I also started writing a program to help me generate components for building frames out of rod stock and 3D printed mounts. I found a hobby shop within easy reach that stocks steel, aluminium, carbon fibre and brass rod and tube stock which is so extremely handy.

Playing: Breath of the Wild- Yuzu handles emulation admirably. I suspect that being less good at the controls is helping me enjoy the cooking system more. If I was good at this I could probably Dark Souls a lot of these fights, the parry mechanic is pretty robust. Instead, I floundered at the face of the Moderate Test of Strength and, instead of Dark Soulsing it, I went away and decided it'd be more fun to hone my skills elsewhere and come back with better gear, more control, and some extra hearts.

I set up gpu-screen-recorder to do replays which has so far yielded these two.

Tools and Equipment: Ikea Bags are pretty handy. They're the biggest bags that fold flat that you can probably easily get. I use one now to handle shuttling laundry from my washing machine to the line, which is way more convenient than the old collapsible bucket I used to use, while also being smaller.

I also used an Ikea bag to haul my 3D printer home from the post office when the courier couldn't find my address for some reason. It's less than a kilometer but it would have been miserable to heft 10kg of box with no handles.

[cyberphuck]

Collars Dot Com Ch 2: The Hammer of Thor

(Back to Chapter One) I shut the lid on the washer, started the cycle, then leaned against it as it filled. To the left the dryer thumped steadily, sounding like a particularly monotonous wedding night.

I'd changed the sheets on the bed, stuffed my bachelor-smelling comforter in the washer, gathered up the long-neglected laundry pile, dragged the comforter back out of the washer in favor of washing the clothes first, scrubbed the bathroom, sanitized the kitchen, vacuumed the living room, collected six thousand sticky coffee mugs and empty soda cans from my desk, wiped down every flat surface, and nearly thrown up twice.

I sat down on the arm of the couch, putting a hand over my eyes to try and keep them from falling out of my skull. I smelled like bleach wipes and hangover sweat and the coffee I'd spilled down the front of my shirt two hours ago and all I really wanted was to lay facedown in bed and sleep until rigor mortis set in.

Some time between changing the pillow cases and gagging on bile, I'd opened the DoorDash app on my phone and ordered two bottles of Gatorade, two containers of fruit salad, and two more bottles of Gatorade in case the first two and the vitamin C from the fruit weren't enough to purge the tequila and idiocy from my body.

I did stupid things when I was drunk. That's what had ended my last relationship, hadn't it? I'd gone out for drinks with some of the guys from work, ended up doing jello shots with a bunch of college girls, and sent a picture of my dick to everyone on my contact list-- including my sister-- with the caption 'THE HAMMER OF THOR!'

I'd woken up the next morning with a variety of responses waiting for me. From my boss, 'you're lucky you're the only one I can rely on to turn in scripts on time,' and from Alyssa: 'I'm tired of your immature bullshit.'

My sister had sent a thumbs-up emoji.

It wasn't the first time Alyssa and me had gotten in an argument over how I spent my free time, and I thought an apology and giving her some space to cool off would keep things rattling along. Instead she dropped her copy of my apartment key in my mailbox, changed her relationship status on Facebook, and posted several memes about finding her flame and not letting anyone hold her back anymore.

Then lockdown had started, my entire department had been sent home to work remotely, all of my meals came from no-contact DoorDash deliveries, and if I wanted to hang out and drink with the guys from work, I had to do it over Zoom. I hadn't realized how much I'd relied on visits from Alyssa to motivate me to give a shit about what my apartment looked like until...

Well, until about 2pm today.

This was going to be the kick in the ass that I needed, I decided. I wasn't gonna keep the Pet I'd ordered, but I wasn't going to mix alcohol and online shopping again, either, and I was gonna clean up after myself and have people over again. Or better yet, go out. See people. Meet people. Shave every day.

Someone hit the buzzer in the downstairs lobby. I got up to hit the unlock button by the front door, got another whiff of stale coffee, and jogged into my bedroom to try to find a clean shirt so I didn't look like a complete slob for the DoorDash guy. I tossed the dirty shirt into the laundry corner, stopped, picked it up and put it into the hamper, and pulled on an ancient band tee, the screen printing long since faded away into nothing. By the time I emerged from the bedroom, DoorDash was already knocking.

Usually I only knew my order had arrived by the swish of a plastic bag being dumped on my mat and the driver's footsteps as he walked off. But I had to sign something, I guess. They'd used to make you sign for stuff, before. I turned the deadbolt and opened the door.

There was a boy standing there.

Blond hair, big eyes, freckles and a pretty mouth that was currently occupied by some kind of black rubber gag. Behind him was a man with a moving dolly stacked high with boxes labeled 'COLLARS.COM.' Behind him was pretty much every single one of my neighbors, all out to grab their mail and pick up their newspapers and check the hallway for werewolves at once.

Fuck.

"Delivery," the man said, looking supremely bored. "For--"

"Yeah, uh, yeah, come in," I said quickly, backing out of the doorway and holding the door wide. The boy stepped through first, then his chaperone with the dolly, and I thought about how I was going to have to either find a new apartment or somehow keep living in this one without ever making eye contact with any of my neighbors ever again.

The man set the dolly upright and plucked a chunky black device from his belt, shoving it at me. "Just use the pen to sign," he said, indicating a thin plastic stylus swinging from the device by a tether.

"Right, uh, so, there was kind of a--" I began weakly, trying to give the device back.

"Hit 'enter,'" the man said. The boy had been wearing a sort of black smock, tied at the back, and his chaperone was taking it off. The black pants came off too, and the boy was very much wearing absolutely nothing underneath them.

"This was-- I can't--" I tried again.

"Arms out," the man said to the boy, holding up his phone to take a picture. "Alright, turn." He glanced at me. "Press the pen down harder if it isn't doing it," he said.

"There has been," I said slowly and firmly, "a mistake."

The man looked at me. I looked back at him.

"Are you Brian Stink?" he asked.

"It's 'Stynch,'" I said automatically. "Listen, I bought all this by accident, I didn't really mean to--"

"The return policy is on the website," the man interrupted. "Can you sign the thing? I've got other deliveries."

"But I can't." A misshapen silence popped between us; I'd been expecting him to cut me off again. "I can't, uh, take him, really."

"I can't put him back in the van," the man said. "I've already sent Proof of Delivery to the dispatcher, and I can't just stick him back there while I finish all my other deliveries. By the time I got him back to the hub, all the handlers'd be gone for the day. Sign," he enunciated, "the thing."

"Alright, fine, fuck," I sighed, scribbling something approximate to my signature on the heavy device and watching it struggle to accept my name with technology from 1992. I slapped it back into the man's hand, trying to show my severe annoyance with him. He wasn't phased. "I'll see you again tomorrow when you come to pick him up," I told him.

"I'm off tomorrow." He yanked the dolly out from underneath the tower of shipping boxes and turned to let himself out. "Enjoy your purchase and have a nice day."

I glared at the closed door for a while, entertaining all my fantasies of letting his employers know I was Very Offended and that they had better do something to make up for it, and receiving an email from the CEO begging for my forgiveness.

Maybe even a phone call. We're so sorry. We're so sorry. The mean delivery driver has been reprimanded and fired-- no, that was too cruel, not with the economy the way it was. He probably had a family to feed. We have sat him down and told him he has been a Very Bad Boy. Yeah.

I locked the deadbolt. And the horse you rode in on, I thought viciously, turned around, and remembered there was an extremely undressed Pet standing next to my shoe rack. The room congealed around me a little, going from the hot soup of righteous anger to the greasy leftovers of what the fuck am I going to do now in an instant.

God, he looked good.

I had been expecting him to be a little plainer than the profile picture I'd glimpsed in a drunken haze the night before. Nobody was supposed to look as perfect as their headshots, that's what Photoshop was for. But there he was, smooth and blemishless, the same buttery curls, the sprinkling of freckles like cinnamon on a macchiato. The mouth, which was still stoppered by the rubber gag whose straps were beginning to leave red marks in his cheeks. He swallowed awkwardly around it and looked at me.

I stepped forward, reaching behind his head and feeling for a clasp. The strap was stiff and new, the price tag still stuck across the cheap plastic. "This thing smells like a used tire shop," I muttered, picking the tag off and undoing the buckle. "Probably tastes like one too."

I pulled the gag out of his mouth. It was a couple inches long, wet and slick where it'd been pressing against his tongue. I wrinkled my nose at it and set it on top of the boxes. They could take that back, too. "How long have you had that thing in your mouth? Do you want a glass of water?"

The boy's mouth puckered; he wiped saliva off his chin with the back of his hand. "Yes, please."

I went to the kitchen, took down a glass, turned on the tap and let in run until it was cold. My coffee mugs were still piled in the sink, looking at me accusingly with sticky eyes. I ignored them and returned to the living room to find the boy standing just where I'd left him.

"Here." I put the glass in his hands. "Come on and sit on the couch."

I discovered, then, that it was possible for someone to sensually drink a glass of plain tap water. The movement of his throat and the sound of his swallowing was almost obscene. Maybe it was just because he was naked, or because I knew what he was for, but the lovely pink mouth was definitely in the lead for 'reasons I was about to make decisions with my dick.' I knew, when I reached out, that just touching his mouth wouldn't be enough. I promised myself I just wanted to feel the shape of it, his lips against the ball of my thumb, but I had wanted that mouth since I saw it on the website, had clicked yes and yes and  yes because I hadn't cared what I'd have to pay to get it. I cupped my palm against his cheek and he leaned into it, looking at me, and I was pushing forward without looking at the price.

I kissed him because I wanted to feel the softness of his lips, the texture of them against my tongue, the sweet sound as we parted. There was a little hesitation when he opened his mouth to mine, as if he wasn't quite sure of it, like the sensation of my tongue against his was new for him. I held him still with a hand against the nape of his neck, where the finest curls of his hair tickled against my fingers, and let him get used to what it felt like to be kissed by me.

By the time I let him go, his breath had gone a little short and there was color in his cheeks and down his neck to his collarbone. His lips were still slightly parted, and I slid my thumb into his mouth. He made a soft sound as I pressed down on his tongue and bottom lip. He made that sound again when I pulled him forward for another kiss, and he slipped off the couch and down to his knees in front of me before I could even form an image of what I wanted.

Now he was looking up at me through his eyelashes and wetting his upper lip with his tongue. I took his chin in my hand because-- I don't know, I wanted to look at him, wanted to stay in the moment of anticipation forever, but with my other hand I took out my stiffening cock for him because I wanted it in his mouth.

He took the head between his lips, delicately, like kissing the first bite of a ripe peach, tongueing the flesh. He took the shaft in his hand and drew upward and I felt a throb of pleasure, my cock bobbing when he pulled away. He looked up at me again and I watched him take me into his mouth in one long, delicious slide, lips and tongue working as he sucked. He lifted his head, taking in a breath, then down again and I could feel myself in the back of his throat. Another shudder of pleasure, releasing in a groan.

I leaned my head back, listening to the sound of his mouth on my cock and riding each rise in tension, each a little bit stronger, a little bit longer than the last. I held my breath to make the pleasure hit deeper, letting it out when I was coming close to the edge. My back and thighs were tensing, wanting to thrust upwards; it began as a soft rhythm, then grew more and more insistent until I braced a hand against the back of his head to fuck his mouth.

I twisted my fingers into his hair, fucking into the friction I wanted, faster and harder, trying to come up short before I climaxed but tumbling over the edge anyway, coming hard with a hoarse, cracked groan.

I felt him swallow twice, then wrap his fingers around my aching cock and pull slowly upwards. I sucked in a breath, wincing, and put out a hand to stop him before he yanked my organs out of my body. "Enough," I panted. "Enough. I'm done, I'm good." He let me go. I took a few more steadying breaths, blinking up at the ceiling,  and alternated saying "god" and "fuck" a half dozen times until I was able to think clearly again. It might have been several hours. I don't know. When I finally pulled myself together, I looked down at him still kneeling there.

"So," I said. "What's your name?"

He smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. "My name is Ren." Kofi - Donate - AO3

[theshinysnivy1]

Some additional notes:

Washing things in cold water is better for the clothes, but warmer water is better for stain removal.

The dryer isn’t great for clothes in general, but it can be particularly bad for soft fluffy polyester things (the heat fuses the fibers and makes them less soft) and anything screen printed (the heat can cause the paint to crack). Set wet printed shirts aside and hang them with spacing in your closet to let them air dry, and dry anything else you can’t hang up on the lowest setting possible when you can spare the time. This will mean your clothes are more wrinkled though.

The dryer also sets stains, which is another reason to use it as little as possible.

Hydrogen peroxide does wonders on fresh blood and is safe on colored clothes. You can typically find it in the medical aisle of grocery stores, by the rubbing alcohol.

Oxiclean can also be used on colored clothing, and when mixed with water reacts to produce hydrogen peroxide. The reaction will work better the hotter the water is. Oxiclean and hot water is the best way to brighten white things, but don’t mix it with normal bleach. I like to alternate washing my whites with bleach and oxiclean.

Some sponges have little bits of metal in them for abrasion, so check them carefully before microwaving them.

If you struggle with washing your face like me, there are a few brands that sell face wipes that are pre-soaked with face wash. I like the Neutrogena Rapid Clear Acne Face Pads, but I hear they are really harsh if you don’t have oily skin.

In case no one told you growing up

Bras last longer if you let them air dry. Don’t put them in the dryer.

If you have a problem with frizzy hair, don’t dry your hair with a towel. It makes the frizzies worse. (I recently read an article that said to use a t-shirt? I brush mine out and let it air dry.)

Whites wash best in hot water. Everything else can be in cold - save on your electricity bill.

You can kill 99.9% of germs in a sponge by putting it in the dishwasher for a cycle or by microwaving it for 2 min (be sure to make the sponge damp before microwaving and to put a cup half full of water in with it and please DO NOT squeeze the sponge until it has cooled off)

Airing out your room/house and letting sunlight in every so often can decrease the number of household pests like silverfish and ants.

Black underwear is best during your period as stains are less likely to be visible.

To save money, put aside 10% of each paycheck into a savings account. It’ll add up.

Unless your hair has something on/in it (like grease or mud or something), using conditioner first can actually be the better choice. The conditioner holds in the good oils that help you hair look sleek and beautiful, which shampoo would otherwise wash away.

Speaking of shampoo - if you have long hair, washing just the bits that touch your scalp is generally enough. The rest of your hair gets cleaned with just the run off from your scalp.

If you put a tampon in and it’s uncomfortable/you can feel it, you didn’t do it quite right. A properly placed tampon is virtually unnoticeable by the wearer.

Apply deodorant/antiperspirant a couple hours in advance of when you need it. This gives the product the chance to block your sweat glands. Using deodorant just before going somewhere where you’ll sweat (this means walking outside for people in high humidity places) results in your sweat washing the deodorant off and starkly limiting its usefulness.

After running the dryer, use the dryer sheet from that load to brush out the lint catch - it gets everything off in a fraction of the time it’ll take you to get it clean with your bare hands. Paper towels also work well.

Wash your face everyday, or as often as possible. Forget which brand of cleanser is best. Just washing your face everyday will guarantee you clearer skin. And do you best not to pop pimples, as tempting as the urge may be.

Fold laundry asap after taking it from the dryer to avoid wrinkles. This may seem obvious for dress shirts and silly for things like t-shirts, but you’ll notice the difference even then once your shirts stop looking like unfolded paper balls.

[kolormatrixscreenprinting]

Transform Your Printing Workflow With An Exceptional Screen Printing Dryer On Sale

A cutting-edge solution for personalized design, offering versatility and durability in transferring vibrant graphics onto fabrics. Explore a world of creative possibilities with this Screen Printing Dryer.

[swankyangles]

ITS TIME TO MAKE THE SHIRTS.

[niskilimo]

Sam Darnold Lover 90’s Minnesota Vikings shirt

Sam Darnold Lover 90’s Minnesota Vikings Shirt: A Retro Tribute to a Rising Star

Celebrate the fusion of classic 90s style and modern football with the Sam Darnold Lover 90’s Minnesota Vikings Shirt. This unique piece pays homage to quarterback Sam Darnold's impact on the Minnesota Vikings, blending nostalgic design with contemporary flair.

Product Description: Crafted from high-quality, comfortable cotton, this shirt features a bold screen-printed graphic of Sam Darnold in his Vikings jersey, accompanied by the team logo and the phrase "Darnold Lover." Available in various sizes, it ensures a perfect fit for every fan.

Design Highlights:

Retro Aesthetic: Embracing the vibrant colors and bold patterns of the 90s, this shirt brings a nostalgic touch to your wardrobe.

Iconic Imagery: Showcases Sam Darnold in action, symbolizing his dynamic presence on the field.

Team Spirit: The Minnesota Vikings logo prominently displayed, reflecting your unwavering support.

Why You’ll Love It: This shirt is more than just apparel; it's a statement piece that combines the rich history of the 90s with the excitement of modern football. Whether you're attending a game, hanging out with friends, or adding to your collection, this shirt lets you wear your fandom with pride.

Product Details:

Material: Premium, ultra-soft cotton blend for comfort and durability.

Fit Type: Unisex sizing—ideal for fans of all ages.

Design: Bold graphic featuring Sam Darnold in his Vikings jersey with the "Darnold Lover" text.

Occasions: Perfect for game days, casual wear, or as a collector's item.

Care Instructions: Machine washable and dryer-friendly for easy maintenance.

Where to Purchase: Ready to add this unique piece to your collection? Visit the Sam Darnold Lover 90’s Minnesota Vikings Shirt page to make your purchase today.

Embrace the nostalgia and show your support for Sam Darnold and the Minnesota Vikings with this standout shirt!

Sources

4o mini

[soniaqin]

1500w 440mm 220v Quartz bulb Fast Response Infrared Lamps IR lamps for screen printing dryer

[processblackplastisolink]

Understanding the Process of Black Plastisol Ink

Plastisol ink is a popular type of ink used in screen printing, particularly for textiles and apparel. It is known for its durability, opacity, and vibrant colors, making it a preferred choice for many printing professionals. Among the many color options available, process black plastisol ink stands out as a versatile and essential choice for many screen printing projects. This article explores the process of using black plastisol ink in screen printing.

What is Black Plastisol Ink?

Plastisol ink is a PVC-based ink that is used in screen printing. It remains in liquid form until heated to a specific temperature, at which point it "cures" and adheres to the fabric. Black plastisol ink, in particular, is used to create solid black designs on textiles. It is highly opaque, ensuring that it covers the fabric completely without showing the underlying material, which makes it ideal for dark-colored fabrics or for designs that require intense contrast.

The Printing Process

The process of screen printing with black plastisol ink involves several key steps. First, a design is created, typically using a computer program, and then it is transferred onto a screen. This screen is coated with a light-sensitive emulsion that hardens when exposed to UV light. Once the design is placed on the screen, it is exposed to light, which hardens the emulsion except in the areas where the design is present.

After the screen is prepared, it is set up on a printing press. The fabric is placed underneath the screen, and a squeegee is used to push black plastisol ink through the mesh of the screen onto the fabric. The process requires careful pressure to ensure an even, consistent coating of ink. Black plastisol ink has a thick consistency, which allows it to produce vibrant and solid prints.

Curing the Ink

One of the most crucial steps in the process is curing the ink. Unlike water-based inks, plastisol ink does not air dry. It needs to be heated to a specific temperature, typically around 320°F (160°C), to cure and bond to the fabric. This is done in a conveyor dryer or flash dryer, where the heat causes the ink to "melt" and fuse with the fabric fibers. Proper curing is essential to ensure that the print is durable, resistant to cracking, and capable of withstanding repeated washing.

Benefits of Black Plastisol Ink

Black plastisol ink offers several advantages. Its opacity ensures a strong, bold print, even on dark fabrics. It is also highly durable and resistant to fading, making it ideal for long-lasting designs. Furthermore, it remains flexible after curing, ensuring that the fabric retains its comfort and breathability. This makes it an excellent choice for custom t-shirts, hoodies, and other apparel items.

In conclusion, black plastisol ink is an essential component of screen printing, offering both quality and durability. The process of using it, from screen preparation to curing, requires precision and expertise to achieve the best results. Whether for simple designs or more intricate artwork, black plastisol ink remains a go-to choice for screen printing professionals.