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#Mosquito Mesh Screens
ykm-wiremesh · 8 months
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Why Epoxy Coated Mesh rules over Aluminium Mesh
When it comes to choosing between epoxy mesh and aluminum mesh for fly screens, there are a few factors to consider. Here are some reasons why epoxy mesh is often considered better than aluminum mesh:
Durability: Epoxy mesh is generally more durable and long-lasting compared to aluminum mesh. It is resistant to corrosion, rust, and weathering, making it suitable for outdoor applications. On the other hand, aluminum mesh can be susceptible to corrosion over time, especially in humid or coastal environments.
Strength and Tear Resistance: Epoxy mesh tends to be stronger and more tear-resistant than aluminum mesh. It can withstand greater impacts and is less likely to get damaged by accidental pushing, pulling, or pets clawing at it. Aluminum mesh, while still relatively strong, may be more prone to denting or puncturing.
Insect Protection: Both epoxy coated mesh and aluminum mesh are effective at keeping insects and pests out of your living spaces. However, epoxy mesh often has smaller mesh openings, which can provide better protection against tiny insects like mosquitoes and gnats. Aluminum mesh may have larger openings that could potentially allow smaller insects to pass through.
Maintenance and Cleaning: Epoxy mesh is generally easier to clean and maintain compared to aluminum mesh. It can be easily washed with mild soap and water without worrying about corrosion or damage. Aluminum mesh may require more frequent cleaning and occasional maintenance to prevent corrosion and keep it looking its best.
Aesthetics: Epoxy mesh offers a sleek and unobtrusive appearance, blending well with different architectural styles and window frames. It is available in various colors and finishes to match your home's aesthetics. Aluminum mesh, while still visually appealing, may have a more noticeable metallic look that might not suit every design preference.
Allergies and Sensitivities: Some people may have allergies or sensitivities to aluminum, particularly when it comes in contact with their skin. Epoxy mesh does not pose the same risk and is generally considered hypoallergenic.
It's worth noting that both epoxy mesh and aluminum mesh have their own advantages and can be suitable for different situations. Read more about why epoxy mesh for fly screen here.
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meshler12345 · 10 months
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Insect Screens For Windows and Doors - Pleated Ideal
Our Ideal version of pleated screens is the best Insect Screens For Windows and Doors. They offer good ventilation as well as protection from all insects.
Our Elite version of pleated screens is the best fly net for windows in Hyderabad. These are easy to maintain and are long-lasting.
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currasso · 1 year
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Premium Aluminium Windows
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We are Fenestration experts. We measure, make and install state-of-the-art aluminium window systems, Mosquito screens, Skylights, Integrated Venetian blinds and insect screen systems.
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Fly screens | Retractable fly mesh | Retractable fly screens | Retractable mosquitoes screens
We are the specialists in giving you an extraordinary scope of bug and bug screens for your home. Whether it's another fly screen you want or to supplant your current broken down mosquito net then we offer a scope of choices. Our fly screens are appropriate for a wide range of openings, including sliding entryways, French, bi-overlap, typical pivoted entryways, and all window openings.
Our suggested and most well known fly screen is the 'creased' retractable bug and mosquito net screen. This screen offers extraordinary security against all bugs and is accessible in a scope of choices to suit estates tracked down in Dubai, Abu Dhabi and across the UAE. This is another plan now accessible in the UAE and is acquiring extraordinary prevalence across the world.
Its cutting-edge plan is the ideal bug obstruction for occupants and property holders who require a practical screen that will endure, at a reasonable cost.
The creased retractable screen is appropriate for introducing close by every single existing entryway and windows and shuts down all flying bugs including mosquitos, flies, and bugs.
REDUCED DEWA BILL:
Provides natural ventilation throughout your home.
COST-EFFECTIVE:
A great solution for owners and tenants with a wide range of options.
KEEPS BUGS OUT!:
Designed to protect you from flies and mosquitoes.
HIGH QUALITY:
Quality PVC coated polyester mesh designed to withstand the harsh Middle East environment.
FUNCTION:
Easy to use simple design. Perfect for all door and window types including sliding, French, hinged doors, and tilt windows.
LONG-LASTING:
The polyester mesh lasts longer than traditional fiberglass screens found in most UAE villas. The screens retract and fold away when not in use.
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owlf45 · 3 months
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romance me with mosquito facts
mosquitoes, when in a condensed enough space, sound like gentle rain.
i work with a specific mosquito species, called the aedes agypti, which carries diseases like dengue virus, west niles virus, and yellow fever. the males are generally smaller than the females, though emerge into adults sooner. you can tell the difference between males and females by the fluffy antennas of the males.
gay mosquitoes everywhere.
mosquitoes tend to be social, if stupid creatures. if you stick two mosquitoes alone in a cage, they probably wont chill (and wont mate). it's just not their style. this is especially frustrating when trying to set up specific genetic crosses.
although i never met them, there used to be a researcher at the lab who did the most batshit stuff. we keep our mosquitoes in mesh cages, so they can't escape but they can feed through the mesh (so we don't have to reach in and out of the cages and potentially let some loose). this old researcher used to grab the morning newspaper, roll up his pants, collapse in a chair and settle his calves over the mesh cages for literal thousands of mosquitoes to feed from him. for hours. i want to meet this man so bad.
mosquitoes are stupid and annoying and prone to killing themselves akin to a goldfish constantly getting stuck in a filter. but strangely enough, you grow to love them. they are simultaneously fragile and durable, easily discernible and difficult to hunt. you can tear their hind legs off and put them through shock a few times and they'll be fine, but a single finger will smush them (quite inconveniently, when you know that bitch could've moved!).
directly after bloodfeeding a female mosquito, if you kill her—often by clapping her directly between your hands (female mosquitoes are the only ones to bloodfeed)—the blood will still be warm.
although i dont screen larvae for traits as often as I used to (I tend to do more database/mosquito caretaking work now), certain gene-linked traits can be found physically in the larvae and pupae stages—sometimes they glow bright blue/green under fluorescent lighting, for example.
like I said though, i mostly work with caretaking. i do the bloodfeeding, i replace their food and water, and i make sure they're in good health and can lay eggs on a proper surface. the mosquitoes under my care live for about a month and a half, though if they're still alive by the time we need to hatch the next generation, we simply fridge them and kill them off. put mosquitoes in the fridge for a few minutes and they'll go to sleep. put them in for a few hours, and they'll usually die— we keep them in for 24 hours to make sure, though.
mosquitoes are difficult to contain. compared to other biochemistry departments, you have tiny creatures that are mobile and can fly, and can't always be seen by the average person unless they're specifically looking for it. I've worked in microbiology labs before, but if there was contamination, it was solely on the researcher. contamination from a loose mosquito is hard to track. this is all to say that I work in a bunker—double doors, minimal vents, no windows.
mosquitoes are the deadliest animals in the world. mosquitoes kill over a million people a year (hence my research). i sit in the back of the bunker sometimes, in the side warm room where we keep our cages of mosquitoes, hundreds of different genetically modified lines in progress at a time, and I have blood on my palms— blood that I fed to my subjects before I squashed them because they escaped from their cages, and I think about the fact that for over 200 lines of this species, I grow them from eggs to adults to death and hatch their offspring again and again and again. i think of lovecraftian horror and I hear gentle rain and remember images of war that keep me up late at night, and I wonder what's the point, for a few numbers in my bank account, and then another mosquito has gotten loose and lands on my arm and doesn't bite me, because it's already full; because i already fed it; because it's just looking for a small, dark place to rest in the folds of my jacket.
mosquitoes love to hide on black surfaces.
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snipernets · 2 years
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Mosquito Mesh Windows
Sniper is a famous manufacturer and distributor of Mosquito Mesh Windows in Coimbatore. We offer a diverse selection of mosquito net styles as well as helpful advice on how to avoid mosquito bites. Purchase at wholesale and retail pricing.
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starlightsearches · 2 years
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Hi again! Kinky prompts 18 and 32 with Eddie. Because, call it a hunch, but that guy just loves to eat p*ssy
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Hysteria
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Eddie Munson x Femme Cheerleader! Reader
Requests are always open! Comments and reblogs make my day 💖
Warnings: 18+ ONLY, RC is not a nice person, Eddie is also not nice but RC probably deserves it, smoking, mentions of drugs, infidelity (RC cheats), oral (f receiving), a little anal play, over-stimulation, dacryphilia, some sub-par sex with RC's boyfriend not described in detail, language
You should not be thinking about Eddie Munson right now.
You probably shouldn't think about him ever—Eddie's an unfortunate stain on the social tapestry of Hawkins High—but out of all the times you shouldn't be thinking about him, this is probably the worst.
The acrid smell of sweat hangs permanently in the locker room while your silly little fake moans bounce off the walls, and you wonder if Connor actually thinks he's making you feel good.
"You like that, baby? Huh?" he asks, slamming his hips against yours so hard the locker doors are rattling. So there's your answer.
"God, Connor, just like that, baby."
It's too fucking cliché—bent over in your cheer uniform in a room that smells like balls, letting your boyfriend pound into you after the game when he hasn't even showered yet.
And you're thinking about The Freak.
Thinking about how you caught him watching you doing your high kicks during the pep rally, chewing on his bottom lip the second he forgot he was supposed to be pretending he was bored. Thinking about the way he fucking winked at you when you and your friends were throwing little balled up pieces of paper into his messy hair during study hall, watching him brush the garbage from his curls with ring-heavy fingers. Thinking about the cheeky-ass grin he wore after Connor tripped him in the lunch room, how he'd ignored all the insults and stared you down once he caught his footing, waiting for you to look away first.
It probably wouldn't even be that great. Eddie's whole look may scream that he's into some fucked-up, depraved shit, but he'd fumble as much as the other guys. You wouldn't get any of the things you daydreamed about—ring marks on your neck and hickeys on your tits and as much dick as you wanted in the back of that disgusting van.
"God, baby," Connor groans, "I can feel you getting wetter for me."
"I'm so fucking close,” you lie. Fucking close to flipping your skirt back down and walking away.
He cums, finally, slides from you with a pat on the ass and a "so fucking good, baby" before stumbling off to the showers. He doesn't even ask if you finished.
You press your forehead against the cool metal locker, breathing in the smell of weak disinfectant.
You need a fucking intervention. Or an exorcism.
You need Eddie Munson.
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This better be the right trailer.
A storm cloud of mosquitos and moths flutter around the porch light, and you swat at a few of them before knocking again, rapping your knuckles against the screen door again until it shakes.
The inner door flies open, and you jump, but it's just Eddie. You watch him recognize you through the screen, taking in the stunned look on his face and the sloppy ponytail he's tied his hair back into. There's a single strand hanging out, clinging to his skin.
"What are you doing here?"
You rip your eyes away from it, and from the thin dark hairs at the nape of his neck—a part of him you would never have seen if you hadn't show up on his porch in the middle of the night.
Look at you, already learning his secrets.
You drop the thought for the moment, popping a hip and meeting his eyes through the fraying mesh. "The fuck do you think I'm doing here?"
Eddie heaves a sigh, but he still opens the screen door, walking away before you've stepped inside.
"You know I charge extra for after-hours transactions," he says, wandering through the dark trailer, "and there's also an additional fee for assholes."
"I'm good for it," you lie, taking the little details of his living room with hungry eyes. You didn't even bring any cash.
"Sit."
Eddie gestures to the couch, metal lunch box in hand. You can smell the thick, musky weed when he falls into place beside you, but there's an undercurrent of something else—Irish Spring and hard water, a few droplets still wet against his skin.
He must have been in the shower when you showed up. You clench your hands into little fists, pressing your thighs together just thinking about it.
"I've got a couple ounces depending on how much you need, or there are some joints if you don't want to roll 'em yourself—"
He keeps talking, voice deep and droning, striking a sinful chord in the pit of your stomach. It's now or never.
You say something, but not even you can hear it, blood pounding in your ears. There's this look in his eyes when your hand grips him by the shoulder, a soft curse from his mouth on your lips. And then you're kissing him.
And maybe you shouldn't get your hopes up, but this is already better than anything you'd done with Connor. Fingers curling through those same, soft hairs you'd stared at standing on his front porch, his cigarette mouth tastes like mint when he parts his lips from surprise, hand just hovering above your waist. You twist toward him, press your chest to his, the HHS logo on your uniform up against the damp front of his t-shirt. You're about to climb onto his lap, ready to see if you could make any of those fantasies you had a reality.
But he rips away.
Eddie presses himself tight up on the far end of the couch, trying to put as much distance as he can between you in such a small space, looking horrified.
"What the fuck was that?"
You can't help it. The rejection stings, and you bury your face in your hands to hide the hurt, peering out through the cracks between your knuckles. "Ugh, god, you could have just gone with it!"
Eddie doesn't even look like he knows what it is.
"Is- is this some kind of a joke?" he says, surprisingly demanding, hand circling around one of your wrists, yanking it away from your face. "Are you fucking with me? 'Cause that's way, waaaay too far."
"No—" God, he's touching you, harsh, forceful like he is in your dreams, and his hand is warm and your skin is burning and the sting of his grip is making you wet.
"Was it your boyfriend's idea?"
And god damn if that doesn't have you dry again. Nothing like the mention of your boyfriend to turn your pussy into the Sahara. "Fuck no. Connor doesn't even know I'm here."
Eddie doesn't want you to notice it, but that has him relaxing a bit—shoulders falling, his hand dropped from your wrist. "Then . . . why?"
You shrug, pouting. "I wanted to."
You must look like a brat, wrapping you arms in front of your tits as you stare at the collection of mugs and hats lining the walls. Eddie's quiet, drumming his knuckles on his lunch box, fidgeting in away that lets you know he must be thinking pretty hard trying to come to terms with all this.
His fingers still, but he doesn't say a word until you meet his eyes again.
"You hate me.”
It's not a question for him, so it's funny that you find yourself surprised. You didn't hate Eddie—as far as you were aware. Maybe it bothered you that he was so outspoken, so different, so determined to get under everybody's skin.
You hated that it worked on you.
But now's not the time to sort through those feelings. You cross your legs instead, rolling your eyes. "Somebody should tell my pussy that."
"Seriously?"
"God, yes, are you stupid? I want you to fuck me, Eddie. Okay?"
And I need you to be shit at it. That's the part you can't say, obviously, because whether or not Eddie was like the other guys you knew, their egos definitely all bruised the same. There's no way he'd give you anything if he guessed you were just here to convince yourself that your boyfriend is actually better in bed.
And he must not know it, because he seems kind of excited, leaning in, rolling the chain around his wrist. "You're serious about this? It's not, like, a joke?"
"I wish it was," you try to laugh, but it comes out flat.
You're watching him too close, trying to decipher a single thought from the way he chews on the tip of his tongue, slapping his palms against his plaid pajama pants. The wait is already excruciating—and he's guessed as much, because he reaches for a carton of cigarettes off the side table, positioning one carefully between his lips and holding the end over a red BIC lighter until it smolders.
"Okay," he sighs after a few drags, letting the smoke filter out through his nose, "I'll do it."
"Really?"
The word comes out a little too earnest, but you're still locked in on the cigarette, on the gray smoke pouring from his lips. Even if he's just done it to impress you—it's working.
"Yup," he says with a sardonic set to his eyes, "but I've got some conditions."
He doesn't elaborate. You're determined to wait it out, tapping your foot impatiently against the carpet, but Eddie's not budging. The situation between your thighs is reaching critical levels of horny.
"Well?"
He lifts himself from the couch, ready to count his demands off on his fingers as he paces. "Well first, I wanna picture when I'm done with you—"
"As blackmail?" you cut in, like it even matters.
"—as a souvenir," he says, with mock offense, hand over his heart, "I'm not gonna show it to anybody."
You'd have to be stupid to believe him. Unfortunately, you're feeling pretty stupid. "Fine."
"You're gonna keep that little skirt on while we do it—just the skirt—and you don't tell anybody about this."
"Obviously," —you spare him from the words social suicide—"is that it?"
"Almost. Just one more condition."
Eddie moves in close as he takes another drag, his chest towering over you until he's blocked out most of the light in the room, eclipse style. He reaches for the ash tray, tapping a few flakes from the end of his cigarette with his eyes on yours.
"I want you to sit on my face."
You cough on the smoke he expels, cheeks flaming. "Fuck no."
Eddie shrugs, standing straight, arms crossed over his chest, flicking his cigarette to your left. "Then I'm out—door's right there."
Oh shit. That was fast. Maybe you'd overplayed your own charm in your head, but what guy had ever refused pussy when you'd thrown it his way? Especially over something like this?
You feel like a kid with him standing so resolutely over you, like you've been called down to the principal's office, only, you know, hornier.
"Why do you even want it?"
Eddie shrugs. "Saw it in a porno once, wanted to try it."
Oh fucking whatever. You'd roll your eyes if you thought it wouldn't make him kick you out for real. "Can't you just be happy with a blow job?"
"Nope," he pops the p at the end, turning toward the hallway by the kitchen.
Fuck. You've gotten too close just to leave, but the whole idea has got your stomach fluttering with little winged nerves. Connor had never gone down on you. No guy had.
"Eddie, wait," you stand from the couch, following a few steps after him before you lose your resolve, "I'll do it."
He stops at the counter, putting out the cigarette in another ash tray before reaching for the hair tie at the nape of his neck, undoing the ponytail and shaking out his curls. Your knees feel like jelly just watching as his fingers rake through them, catching against a few knots.
"Uh-uh, princess, I'm not the one coercing you into anything; if you don't want to sit on my face then I'm not gonna make you."
You huff, fists tight at your sides. "Fine. I want to sit on your face."
"You gotta say it like you mean it," he tells you, voice sing-song.
God, he's determined to mess with you. It's not like you're against playing games, although you're normally not this unsettled when you do it. With little tremors traveling up from your palms, you reach for him, pressing tight against his soft, lean body until the curve of his back hits the edge of the table and his adam's apple jumps in his throat.
"Eddie," you start, looking up at his surprised face with big eyes, batting your lashes, "please let me sit on your face?"
He's breathing hard, but his lips still curl into a slow, wicked grin. "That's more like it."
He's staring at your mouth, eyes tracing the shape of it. You wonder if he's going to kiss you. You kind of want him to kiss you. And that's scary as fuck.
He doesn't though, and maybe that's worse. Eddie slips past your hold, headed to his bedroom, and you figure you should follow. Watching from the doorway, you take everything in from the dim light of the window—the scary posters and band logos covering the walls and boy clutter everywhere else. He ignores you, tossing his pillows around on the thin bed until he’s satisfied, kicking a couple dirty magazines under the frame before flopping down on the sheets.
"Alright," he says, head resting in his hands, "strip."
You roll your eyes, but at least it's harder to be nervous when you're annoyed. "Charming."
"Hey, if you wanted chocolates and roses you could always gone to your boyfriend."
"He doesn't give me chocolate and roses either," you mumble. And he definitely wouldn't have me sit on his face.
You start with your underwear, since you're not quite ready to be naked in front of him, balling the cotton up in your hands and dropping them on his floor before he can see the wet spot you've left.
"Keep going," he commands, voice gravelly as he slides one hand down his torso, just letting it rest over the bulge in his pajama pants.
Yeah, okay. Maybe that doesn't diminish any of your anxiety, but it does get you a little needier, reaching for the zipper at the side of your uniform and slipping it off.
And it doesn't feel strange, standing in the middle of a space that's so distinctly Eddie, half-naked, skin pebbling against the new cold. His heavy gaze doesn't have you flinching to cover yourself, your skin growing warm wherever his eyes land.
You keep your face pointed toward the ground, listening to the rustle of his sheets as he shifts and then grunts. "Christ, you've got pretty tits."
"Really?"
You know your eyes have gone big and soft when you look at him, total heart-eyes for no god damn reason. You just can't help the way his words have you feeling, because Eddie Munson thinks something about you is pretty and—for some reason—that matters to you.
"Don't let it go to your head, princess," he tells you, patting the mattress beside him. "C'mere."
Your feet pad across the worn carpet, stepping around discarded t-shirts and Hostess wrappers before climbing on top of the bed.
His hand wraps your waist, soft fingers and hard ring backs indenting your skin and urging you into his lap. Eddie catches his tongue between his teeth, totally focused on your chest as he cups a tit in each hand, thumbing at your stiff nipples.
His touch is deliberate, the pressure behind his fingers perfect and your head falls back, hips landing against his, shifting greedily when you feel the hard press of his cock.
And maybe you're just high on the feeling of finally getting what you want, but you think Eddie might be fucking hung.
Not for long though, his hands leave your tits and he grips you roughly around the waist of your skirt, pulling you away from the soft flannel and the tent in his pants.
"Easy, now. We had a deal," he whispers, breaths coming out jagged until he gets a hold of himself; you try and fail to do the same.
Big eyes wide and deep enough to get lost in, Eddie shifts between your thighs—more and more of himself disappearing beneath the white hem of your skirt until you're straddling his chest instead of his hips, his hair splayed wildly over the sheets.
The rest of the distance is on you, sliding forward one knee at a time. You can feel him breathing open-mouthed against your core, condensation from his breath collecting in your bush.
"You can put some of your weight on me," he whispers, turning so his lips brush against your thigh, wet mouth slicking your skin.
You already feel yourself sinking, like your body is getting heavier with every moment that passes, like he's increased the pull of gravity. He's got no headboard, so press your palm flat against the wall, trying to resist.
"I won't hurt you, will I?"
His fingers curl around, holding you in place; you can fee the corded muscle of his forearms against the backs of your thighs.
"Would you care if you did?" he asks.
Yes. But you'll let him think what he wants.
You settle slightly, experimenting with the feeling of it, his cheeks pressed to the insides of your thighs, the tip of his nose resting against your mound, nestling into the hair there until your toes start to curl. His mouth stays closed, lips positioned chastely against the split between your thighs. Lower, he urges, with a tap of his hand.
You think fuck. You think okay.
When his tongue parts your sticky skin, you're not thinking at all.
It should have been obvious to you before, but tongues are softer than fingers, and Eddie's is gentle and dexterous as he tastes you, circling your folds and tracing over your slit before he finds your clit, stroking back and forth, slow and measured. He hums, maybe a question, and the feeling of it sends a shiver up your spine.
"Shit."
Eddie's grip tightens, pulling you close enough it's got to be hard for him to breathe, not that he seems to care. Your vision blurs at the edges, palms slick and arms weak, hips shifting involuntarily against his mouth. There's a pinch against your skin as his fingers squeeze you encouragingly, urging you on.
You let your hips grind down on him, the way you'd sometimes grind on Connor's thigh before he got tired of just kissing and pulled his dick out. But that feeling could never compare to this one, Eddie's tongue flat against your clit like he's saying use me, princess. Go on.
"God, Eddie," —you hope he can't hear you from this position, hope you're talking to nobody but the walls— "don't stop."
Maybe he can hear you, because his pace increases, kissing messy and open-mouthed against your core. Lips gliding over your skin, his tongue prodding just past the tight circle of muscle and dipping in and out of your dripping cunt, you feel sparkling, electric, intense.
A whimper breaks through your lips when he tugs at your clit, sucking hard.
"Just- fuck, just like that."
You don't have to tell him twice, or once. It feels like his tongue is everywhere, all at once, massaging your clit and stroking your lips and wiggling deep inside your hole.
A hand shifts under your skirt, and you hardly notice—until you feel his fingers digging into the meat of your ass cheeks, his thumb pressed tight against your puckered asshole.
"Jesus Christ." The feeling has you leaping out of your skin at the pressure, the pleasure that comes along with it. Eddie hums deeply, pressing deeper, the tip of his thumb just breaching your hole, playing you like you're some kind of toy and he wants to see what all the buttons do. Maybe he's making fun of you, but you could not give two shits about that.
You're losing control of your limbs, trying and failing to find something that will keep you tethered to the real world. Without thinking about it, your fingers thread through Eddie's hair and tug.
Eddie likes that. The hum he lets out travels through your core, hits some shining point inside you and makes it ring. There's no stopping it—you feel the building pressure in your gut, the tension in every part of you.
"Gonna cum."
He knows. He knows and he's working towards it, humming and sucking and licking at each singing part of your skin. He knows and he wants it so badly, nose circling your clit and the whole lower half of his face must sticky with his own spit and every drop of cum leaking out of your puffy cunt.
Eddie knows that you're cumming for him and he laughs when you do.
It's like lightning, like a sound wave in your chest breaking you materially apart, like the eye of a storm and Eddie's at the center of it all.
He doesn't let you pull away, doesn't let you come down from it. Arms gripping at you too hard to break, he keeps your pussy against his face and he thrusts his tongue inside your weeping hole until you feel like screaming.
"Eddie. Eddie."
You could be warning him. You should let him know that your legs are going to give out and if he's not careful he'll suffocate, but everything that comes out sounds like worship.
His head shakes beneath you, tongue back on your clit until you’re seizing, fucking possessed.
Maybe Eddie Munson is into devil worship.
You fall over at some point, but he keeps going at it. You're slumped against the wall and his pillows, staring drunkenly at the ceiling while he cleans your cum from your skin with the flat of his tongue and fat tears drip down your cheeks.
Eddie finally pulls back with a satisfied sigh. "Was that good, baby?"
His voice is mocking as he leans down inside your field of vision. The ends of his hair glisten wetly in the yellow glow from the window, and he's smiling as he wipes you off his lips with the back of his arm.
But you're not really here, so you can't really appreciate how pretty he looks, whole body buzzing as it tries to process what's just happened to you. Trying to understand how you could still want more.
His palm is hot against your cheek, brushing some of the tears from your face with his thumb and it's still there when you see the flash of a camera and hear the polariod whir.
You launch into a sitting position, dizzy, steadying yourself with a hand on his thigh. Eddie's sitting on the edge of the bed, shaking the picture out while the edges darken.
"What're you doing?"
Eddie's squinting at the photo, trying to catch the slightest hint of what the developing image might look like before he grows impatient, waving it between two fingers. "You gotta shake 'em if you want them to develop faster."
"No," you stop the movement with a trembling touch, about to sob with how empty your cunt feels, "I thought- you said- aren't you going to fuck me?"
Eddie snorts. "Why would I do that, baby?"
There's a stinging in your eyes; you're actually crying again, weak little sobs on your lips. "But, but you promised."
"Don't be like that,"—he cups your cheek in his hand again, pity in his eyes, "I will fuck you, like I said I would—eventually."
Fuck. You could have guessed that this would happen, if you weren't so stupid. If you weren't so mean. Finally getting what you deserved.
"But . . . my boyfriend . . . "
You don't know what you're going to say about him. It takes you a second to even remember his name.
"Baby," Eddie grins, pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek, "I think this little pussy is mine now, but he can take a turn if he wants."
find part 2 here!
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TALKING ABOUT ACCOUNTABILITY POSTING :D
… this morning's todolist was:
empty vacation case from the various clothes and stuff still in there since we came back (done)
test if smol car will maybe decide to start now (done; it didn't)
ask fifo for diagnosis (he says it's probs the battery)
find our car battery charger (done)
unplanned but also done: add mosquito screen to the kitchen window \o/
check on the garden (it's green and doing fine; i caught some daphnies for the indoor fins)
this afternoon's todolist:
EAT. i have empenadas, should not be too difficult to manage =_=
plug the smol car's battery to see if it charges (i need to find an extension for that)
add a lil mesh around the big-tank filter so i can give the daphnies to eat to the *fish*, not the filter…
tidy up the crafts room a bit. or a lot. i'll spend my afternoon here, at least it's cool with no need for air condutionning :|
… probably order some nice stuff +_+
check if car battery has charged.
- if not, wait for fifo and go buy a new one.
- if charged, checl some measurments and go buy stuff to make the garden Actually Cat Proof, so that ninon can go outside and not wander wherever (starting in the adjacent neighbour's garden, since she has a *phobia* of cats and… uh… i don't want her near my cat or any cat actually.)
and that should be enough. small manageable important tasks, some vague useful ones, some breathing space allowed.
let's go!
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How to Control Household Pests in Singapore?
Do you enjoy having bugs in your house?
Naturally, nobody does that! Even those who find these creatures intriguing do not want vermin running loose in their home, causing unsanitary conditions. In actuality, the invasion of practically all pests—from the buzzing fly and itchy mosquito bite to the painful bee sting—is not only annoyance-inducing but also dangerous. Rats, cockroaches, and mosquitoes can spread sickness, but termites can harm your house. Complete pest control is the only solution for this issue.
How can they be repelled?
Keeping the bugs out is the greatest way to get rid of a pest infestation. Water, food, and shelter are the three essential components that every living thing requires to survive. You may make it difficult for these pests to feel comfy by eliminating their food source and hiding places. This will lessen the possibility of pests moving into your house. In order to keep bugs out, you should also seal any potential entry points, such as cracks and holes in the exterior of your home.
Common Household Pest Control in Singapore:
Garbage Disposal Procedures:
Did you realize? Pests enjoy hanging around in and near the trash. In actuality, they can reproduce there and get their food directly from the waste dump. To reduce the risk of these pests, you must be especially careful when disposing of rubbish. Instead of having garbage cans throughout your home, have one in your kitchen for putting out food waste.
Using trash cans with self-closing lids is one of the finest solutions because it keeps the debris out of insects' grasp. To prevent pests from feasting, make sure your compost bin is lined with fabric and has tight-fitting covers. As a result, recycle containers should be frequently cleaned and sanitised before being placed back where they belong.
Install mosquito screens: 
For natural ventilation, most homeowners like to keep their doors and windows open. Unfortunately, mosquitoes and other flying insects can easily enter your home through open windows. In this situation, mosquito screens keep pests and trespassers out of your house. Fresh air and ventilation can enter without being obstructed by the mesh. However, make sure the screen is impenetrable—holes allow bugs to easily crawl in.
Fill up the Holes and Cracks: 
Every home undoubtedly contains gaps, holes, and cracks that are simple to overlook when assessing our home. Rats and other insects can enter through these openings and explore your cozy abode. As a result, you should frequently inspect the outside of your home or hire an expert.
Clean Stagnant Water:
In the stagnant water, mosquitoes deposit their eggs and grow. Any stagnant water at your house needs to be covered or removed. Always keep an eye out for any water that has become stagnant in the buckets, flower pots, and other containers.
Conclusion
For affordable pest control services in Singapore, you can also get in touch with a reputable business like 1st Choice pest control.
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taraemory · 2 years
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Almost done I think. I kept the mesh but painted it black then covered it with black mosquito net screen then came up with a cheap and easy way to simulate the criss-cross bits on the sides that works well enough. At least it doesnt look super busy and jumbled. But at some point I really need to get back to making P0rn and stuff!! #taraemory https://www.instagram.com/p/CceGVDsu74x/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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lacostashade · 2 years
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How motorized patio screen works?
Motorized patio screens work by using a motor to open and close a screen panel. The fabric used in these systems should be rated for outdoor use and have a wide range of applications. They are typically rated by how much UV light penetrates the screen mesh, ranging from an insect mesh with a completely unobstructed view, solar mesh options, even blackout fabrics. This allows you to enjoy the outdoors without being pestered by bugs, and it can also provide some privacy.
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Extended Use of Your Outdoor Space
With the push of a button, or even a timer or your cell phone, you should be able to automatically dorp your shades, completing your motorized patio screen kit instantly. With insect mesh mosquitos become a thing of the past, adding solar mesh upgrades the screen to the best of both worlds, offering UV protection for your patio furniture. Often referred to as motorized retractable screens, it is one of the few home improvement projects that, with professional installation, can transform your outdoor space to a temperature controlled environment in just one day!
Customizable and Elegant
High quality motorized patio screens offer many more options that just the fabric.
Technology plays a big part in the customized part of thescreen. When installed by professionals, you should have lots of flexibility in how you operate your screen. Radio frequency controls can com in the form of handheld remotes, wall switches, cell phone controls, and even Alexa or Google smart home functionality.
 Frames should also come in multiple colors. Preferably these should be powder coated so that they are fade and weather resistant. After all, this investment in your home should stay beautiful for years to come. Motorized patio screen can make homeowners more comfortable in their backyard, and if they are installed correctly with high quality components they should last the life of the home
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meshler12345 · 10 months
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Mosquito Nets For Sliding Doors - Pleated Grand
Our Grand version of the Pleated insect screen is a Mosquito Nets For Sliding Doors These are customized for any doors and windows.
We at Meshler got you the best Mosquito mesh door in Hyderabad with all premium features and wide range of color choice to suit your interiors and keep the bugs at bay.
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TOP-10 INSECT SCREENS BY SCREEN FACTORY FLORIDA
An insect screen is an irreplaceable protection for your windows and doors to keep pollen, dust and insects away from the household. Though, with the wide variety of available screens it can be hard to choose “the one”. Screen Factory Florida has prepared a Top-10 insect screen to help you make this tough decision.
10. Magnetic screen
It is usually installed along the perimeter of the opening. It consists of several canvases that are attached to magnets. Such a screen is easily connected and disconnected if necessary. It looks like a regular curtain, featuring an attractive modern design.
9. Classic insect screen
This is a classic. Made of aluminum or metal frame and a mesh. It can be installed on wooden frames. On top of that, they are easy to install and have an affordable price. Light weight reduces the load on the window frame.
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8. Ultraview
This is a popular new generation insect screen, which is made of non-combustible material. With thin threads in the manufacture, it was possible to achieve an improved view through a dense canvas. At the same time, this solution is ideal for protecting against insects.
7. Sliding screen
This is the most common type of screen, which can significantly save space. The unit does not require serious maintenance, is easily dismantled if necessary, and is highly reliable and safe.
6. Anti-pollen
This is a modern type of protective canvas that is designed for people allergic to pollen. Among the main features are small cells that can trap even the smallest particles that enter the room from the street. Also, such screens can stop mosquitoes, insects, street dust. Choosing this particular screen depends on your personal preferences
5. PetScreen
These are reinforced mosquito nets that can withstand a large load. This is possible due to the increased thickness of the thread and the strong dipping solution of the canvas. The threads are specially dyed in a darker shade so that the cat does not try to jump out for the birds. The best thing about this screen is that it’s almost impossible to puncture or tear. The screen is extremely strong and reliable
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4. Steel screen
These are durable insect screens that are used to protect against insects and birds. The canvas consists of thin metal threads, which are woven securely together, providing resistance to negative external influences and loads.
3. Rolling screen
This screen is perfect for constantly open windows and doors. A special box is installed in the upper part of the window where the canvas can be folded and stored. It can easily be mounted on all types of windows, and storage does not need to be allocated a separate place.
2. Snap-in screen
This is a modern solution that is often used at home. A great option for indoor installation. The screen is characterized by increased strength, safety and the tightest possible fit to the window, which guarantees the best protection against insects.
1. Pleated
Generally, such screens look like classic blinds. This new canvas can be installed in almost any opening, and for the winter it does not need to be removed, which saves a lot of space.
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It’s a tricky question to say which type of screen will be perfect for everybody as insect screening is a very personal accessory for each household. However, Screen Factory Florida team is always here to help you choose!
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jellyfishinajamjar · 2 years
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I would pay actual cash money for some kind of subscription service that sends you loading screen tips for real life. Imagine you’re waiting in line for something and you get a text that says like
You should rotate your tires every few months to ensure an even wear
Mosquito bites itch because of a protein contained in saliva injected following a bite. Heating a spoon under hot water and pressing it to the affected area will destroy this protein, stopping the itch
Adding salt to water can make it boil faster
Most police vehicles are easily identifiable by their silhouette, even in low light conditions or when unmarked. Most will have a Pursuit Intervention Technique bumper on the front, a light bar and several distinctive antenna on the roof, a mesh divider in the back seat, and tax exempt license plates
To jump start a car, attach the black (ground) cable to the battery of the car you are jumping from, then the red cable, then repeat for the car you’re jumping, then start the car you’re jumping from. When in doubt, black before red or you’ll be dead
You can add a small amount of coffee ground to chocolate cake mix to give it extra flavor
Before shaving, soak in warm water to allow your pores to open, ensuring a closer shave. After shaving, apply lotion and soak in cold water to retain skin elasticity and prevent ingrown hairs
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owlf45 · 1 month
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are you working with the mosquitos again? if so can we hear about them? (i liked your last mosquito talks)
yes, I am. it's been a bit chaotic at the lab (as per usual though). for the past two years the head of my lab has been adding more and more genetically modified lines that we have to upkeep. it got so bad that we were taking care of close to 300 lines at some point. my manager kept asking him to remove lines every weekly meeting, and he would get rid of 2 and add like 12 more. (for context, when I started working there, there were only about 120 lines. 150 lines? something very low.)
well, we nearly lost a very important line that we've been writing a paper on for the past... four years? we've had so many crises though that I just deadpan told my manager at some point, "We can't work any faster or harder. We've tried hiring more people, we've tried new schedules, we've tried everything. The problem is the number of lines, not us. It's just going to keep happening."
When I say we 'lost' the line too, it's not that the line died. Because of the amount of lines we have, we've been relying on self-crossing our experiments. This means rather than screening all 300 lines during the larvae stage for positive lines and then crossing them with the wild type, we've simply hatched them, let whatever hatched mate, take the egg paper they've laid on, and then hatch those egg papers six months later. (With proper storage in a cool chamber, that's as long as the egg papers can last.) However, for specific lines that are sex-linked, the genetic mutations only appear in a percentage of the offspring. The more and more those populations self-cross, the lower that percentage gets. So technically, we had the genetically modified line, except that none were positive for the specific genetic mutation. Whoops!
We've rescued the line (thankfully), but it's worrying. My manager told my boss what happened and he finally decided "oh shit, maybe I should actually listen for once". Anyway, he got rid of like 20 lines we've never used once in the decade we've taken care of them. Also, once this paper is published, we'll be able to condense like 10 different lines into one line.
Other than workplace drama, I'm not sure I have very many updates. i grow to love the little bastards a teeny more all the time. I've had to kill quite a few lately though because the cages are a little warped so they keep trying to worm their way out of the mesh.
oh, did you know that if you vacuum mosquitos right after bloodfeeding them, they can explode? crazy. (I say vacuum, I mean one of those little hand-held ones we use to transport mosquitoes from cage to cage.) also when its cold they get very eepy, so sometimes we put them in the fridge for 15-20 minutes instead of vacuuming them so they wont. yknow. explode when we try to move them.
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sophie-i-guess13 · 2 years
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August of 1953
guys guys guys guys I can bring back Merrill’s Place For Runaway Youth!!! Ok ik that was a lot but just know I’m more proud of this AU then I am of my sister for giving birth. This is also gonna be the last update of the night I promise. oh and if youre new i will ramble about this au for eternity i am sorry
|Words: 1326|
|Characters: Buck Merrill, Sylvia, OC’s|
|Genre:  Light Angst|
|Tw: Smoking, Absent Parents, Implied animal abuse|
Tag! @mjmacchio1991 @apricot-colored-feathers @pepsi-and-cigarettes @the-kneesbees @ralphmaccchiato
Down the street, someone is barbecuing their dinner. Probably sipping on a beer at the same time, listening to his wife and her girlfriends' gossip about everything under the sun. A few houses over, three to the right, a dog howls. He’s leaning against the worn old fence, secluded in the shade the early evening provides.
He doesn’t look too friendly. His fur’s all matted and gray and it runs all the way over his body until it reaches his shaggy paws, barely hiding the long, black nails poking through. It’s hard to imagine how he’s fallen asleep so quickly, after pacing in the dirt yard and lapping up the last bit of water in his bowl. The heavy chain around his neck and stuck to a stake in the ground can’t be too comfortable.
Mosquitoes buzz around your head. One gets lucky and nips the back of your neck before you or Dad can kill it. You’re getting antsy now as the smell of burning meat permeates through the air and the dog in the yard begins to dream. His lips are curling up now, thick with drool as they show off rotting teeth. Dogs have never really scared you- and they ain���t about to start now- but your nerves are acting like those lights Dad hangs up outside the bar.
Flickering on and off for no good reason.
Aunt Carol has her hair tied back from her face in a ponytail and a cigarette between her lips. Smoking had always been her vice, whereas drinkin’ had always been Dad’s. The screen door separating you and her is dirty, the mesh stained gray with her tobacco and leftover bug guts. “It ain’t gonna be that long, Carol,” Dad says. Your aunt scoffs and pulls at her hair, letting the dark blonde curl get tangled around one of her bony fingers and the metal ring she wears.
“Where’d you get the idea I have room for another kid, Bill?”
You’re sweating something awful now. Worse than the time Dad’s girlfriend dragged you to Mass with her and you dropped the Bible, even worse than the time you couldn’t read the sentence your teacher put in front of you. Taking a step back, you bump into your father’s stomach. He says you’re getting taller, but your head can barely reach the center of his chest. It doesn’t stop him from giving you all his old flannels, though, Maybe when you’re older, he’ll let you try on his cowboy boots, too.
“We’re barely gettin’ by as it is,” she goes on, even going as far as to point to the hole in her porch and dead flowers beside the door. “Hell, Gary’s having enough trouble puttin’ up with his own kid, what makes you think he’ll let me take Buck?”
“I can send you money,” Dad cuts in. They talk about you like you’re not even there, even when Dad tightens his grip on the back of your collar- the way he always did when you were scared. “B-besides, he’s almost ten. That’s plenty old enough to help out ‘round here, maybe Gary can even take him to work a couple times a week.”
As proud as he tries to be, Dad ain’t above begging. That’s why your backpack hits the rickety old porch with a light thud before the hand drops from your collar and nudges your shoulder. A silent reminder to see what kinda trinkets you can find in the burnt grass while he slaps a few wrinkled bills in Aunt Carol’s hand. Cautiously, you do as you were told and step around the rotting wood and jump off the porch, skipping the stairs altogether.
“Don’t look at me like that, it’s just a few weeks-”
It’s a nice night in August. The clouds are thin, blowing against the sky as the colours bleed from blue to pink and orange. Three houses down, the sound of your shoes scraping the cement walkway startled the dog. He’s watching you now, gaze slow and steady and following your every movement. He doesn’t look too scary when you look at him now, with dirt smeared over his muzzle and black eyes all foggy. He’s real thin and the tip of his left ear is missing, part of his nose is covered by a jagged pink scar. He winces when Aunt Carol’s voice cuts through the evening silence, shrill and hoarse.
“I’ve always been there for you, Bill, but this- this is gettin’ outta hand.”
The screen door creaks open, but you don’t notice until s small hand wraps around three of your limp fingers hanging at your side. “Can we go get some hotdogs? Missus Davis always gives me one if I ask.”
The dying sunlight catches in her eyes- the only thing that could tell you she was your cousin. You didn’t have the same hair or freckles, not even the same last name. But Sylvia was your cousin through and through, and she knew it as she began to pull you to the edge of the yard. Her skirt is stained and ripped, rubbing against her knees while she plants her feet firmly in the grass and pulls with all her six-year-old strength. “C’mon, Buck,” she groans, tongue poking out past her lips and somehow avoiding the jam smeared on her chin, “we can get one for Bruce, too. His owners don’t feed ‘im much.”
Aunt Carol is fiddling with her hair again when you look at her. It’s better than counting the money Dad coughed up for her to take you, but it still rubs you the wrong way. There’s a reason Sylvia relies on the southern hospitality of her neighbours rather than expecting her own mother to make sure she doesn’t go to bed hungry. “I’ll take him for one week.”
Sylvia turns her head so fast, strawberry-blonde hair crosses her face, a few strands sticking to the jam. “You’re gonna stay with us?” Before you can tell her to be quiet, Dad looks over his shoulder and grins. “That’s right, honey,” he laughs before stepping down off the porch and ignoring his sister’s cursing.
Dad scoops his niece up and props her on his hip, swaying along with the music playing from the Davises radio. “You’re gonna keep an eye on ‘im for me, yeah? Keep him outta trouble?”
Aunt Carol doesn’t say anything before casting her smoke to the ground and crushing it with the heel of her shoe. “Growin’ boys eat more than you’d think,” she grumbles, poking Dad in the side and taking her daughter from him just to put her down on the ground. “You can write me a check when you get back.”
Sylvia’s hand fits comfortably in your own as Dad rests a heavy hand on your shoulder. “Be good,” he says, lips pressed against your brow before he waves goodbye. Aunt Carol goes back inside not long after the truck’s engine roars to life and takes off down the road. She’s already fishing another cig out of her pocket when she waves you and Sylvia off to get some dinner.
You’re still sweating buckets when you two sink to the cold grass with a wire fence, the only thing separating you and Bruce while Syl passes a hotdog his way. He whimpers and whines every now and again, but never snaps- not even when she scratches behind his ear. “You’re a good boy,” she says to him, bringing her face closer to the dog than you’d recommend. “You think he’s a good boy, right, Buck?”
You nod absentmindedly, gaze still fixed on the barren road and the stained napkin in your lap. He’ll come back for you eventually, and the ache is something you’re growing accustomed to, but it hurts all the same for the time being. “Yeah, Syl,” you say before wiping the sweat and spit from Dad’s kiss off your forehead, “he’s a good boy.”
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