#rusted chainlink

[teddy-bear-naps-and-random-snaps]

[fatehbaz]

hello! While we're on the topic of Chicago, do you know about Leonard Dubkin? His writing can be hard to find because it is out of print, but he wrote nature columns about approaching the bugs and weeds accessible in city life the same way you would traditional naturalist landscapes and! It is sometimes neat! Especially for the time period before the turn toward huge public parks projects

Yes, actually, I've heard of Dubkin in two different settings: University course discussions of the history of environmental studies and geographic thought. And also in discussion of Great Lakes "bioregionalism".

Kinda some entangled stuff here that you've brought to mind for me, having to do with how Chicago relates to environmental thinking. Chicago as site of contemporary urban naturalism and community gardening. Chicago as site of "Midwestern gothic". Great Lakes and Great Plains as sites of Indigenous pedagogies. Chicago as site of Progressive era reformism. Chicago as site of influential (imperialist) geographic thinking.

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(1) You've reminded me of "Muskrat theories, tobacco in the streets, and living Chicago as Indigenous Land" (Bang, Curley, Kessel, Marin, Suzukovich, and Strack, Environmental Education Research, 2014). They discuss: "Chicago is a wetland that becomes part prairie and part oak savannah. It's hard to see with the layers of colonial fill, but actually it's hiding in plain sight [...]. [There is] recognition of how the filling of wetlands factored greatly into the [...] establishing of Chicago as a national transportation hub and why some forest reserves or parks [...] were [situated as they are now] [...]. As teachers [the authors are educators], we began to track and weave into our thinking [...] the waves of ecological restructuring that has occurred in Chicago; from the filling of wetlands, to the rengineering of the direction of the Chicago river, the mass destruction of prairie lands [...]."

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(2) It's been my impression that, in the past 15-ish or so years, a lot of writing about "urban/community gardening" and the reclamation of space has been coming out of Detroit, Cleveland, Pittsburgh, Chicago, etc. Reclaiming of apparently-decrepit urban space after abandonment by institutions, "making a home" even in the face of ruination, etc. Post-industrial decay and the (condescending?) stereotyping of the Rust Belt, and Detroit especially. Much of these efforts led with deliberate intent and passion foremost by Black gardeners. (Milwaukee has some of the most extreme Black-white residential segregation of any major US city. Treatment of Black communities and use of redlining is notorious in Minneapolis, Detroit/Flint, St. Louis, etc.)

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(3) I think this decay/abandonment theme might dovetail with what seems (anecdotally to me, at least) to be a sort of popular ascendancy of a regional gothic or Midwest gothic kinda thing among wider audiences even outside of the region. Corn fields at edge of town, chainlink fences and crooked oak branches, shuttered Rust Belt factory, Night in the Woods aesthetic-y stuff, Over the Garden Wall-adjacent stuff, etc. Like the celebration of a perpetual Halloween. Really plays on the landscapes, haunted history, attempted concealment of violence, and institutional abandonment of the Great Lakes region. And then there is the advent of more Great Lakes/Rust Belt bioregional identity stuff, which Belt Magazine has been writing about for years now. I'm thinking also of some recently published stuff like "Deep Map Country: Proposing a Dinnseanchas Cycle of the Northern Plains" and Grasslands Grown: Creating Place on the U.S. Northern Plains and Canadian Prairies. As wells as some non-academic general-audience titles (like Rust Belt Arcana: Tarot and Natural History in the Exurban Wilds, etc.).

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(4) I do also wonder if the apparent rise in popularity recently of Robin Wall Kimmerer's work has contributed to a rise in "ecological citizenship" dialogue and Great Lakes/Great Plains bioregional thinking. But I think it would behoove us to note that Kimmerer is not the only Indigenous thinker discussing ecological citizenship in this region.

I'm thinking of Grace Dillon's writing on Indigenous sciences, Indigenous futurisms, storytelling/narrative, dealing with ecological cataclysm, more-than-human agency, etc (big institutions are "still thinking about knowledge as mere accumulation"). Just as Kimmerer talks about "plant beings", Dillon also talks about "multispecies entanglements" and agency.

Also thinking of Kyle Whyte (Potawatomi, from this region), who's written for years about Indigenous science fiction and Indigenous pedagogies of knowledge, especially situated in the Great Lakes.

Also Leanne Betasamosake Simpson's writing (Mississauga Nishnaabeg, from this region) on Indigenous resurgence and creating constellations of co-resistance. Both Whyte and Simspon write about persistence in the aftermath of apocalypse, which I think works well when considered in relation to Black community gardens and the wider Great Lakes/Rust Belt discourses of building lives in the aftermath of post-industrial decay/abandonment.

Also scholar Zoe Todd as well (Red River Metis, from the northern Plains). Aside from famously criticizing academia's superficial and fashionable appropriation of these Indigenous pedagogies and concepts, Todd also has written a lot about more-than-human agency (especially fish!), ecological citizenship, and a sort of place-based identity (especially in the northern Great Plains).

Considering the appropriation of Indigenous knowledge also brings to mind Katherine McKittrick's writing on "Black methodologies" and pedagogies/knowledge production (universities undermine and appropriate Black knowledge; Black knowledge is "interdisciplinary"; prioritizing multiple ways of knowing; "wonder is study" and "curiosity is attentive") and Fred Moten's writing on the fugitive relationship to academia. Also brings to mind Glissant's writing on opacity.

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(5) Regarding Chicago as a center of (white) conceptions of environmental space and geographic thought: You mention Dubkin's writing on a sort of urban naturalism in Chicago. And I know that Madison (Wisconsin) and its university have a similar reputation as being an early center of environmental studies among white/national institutions. Meanwhile, seems Chicago might've acted at times as a focal point of this "progressive" modernity kinda thing that celebrates reforms and "innovations" in industrial livability or whatever (much of which still depended on and/or endorsed colonization, extraction, labor abuse, imposed standards of "productivity", etc.). Thinking of Progressive era through New Deal (1890s-1940s, as Chicago had achieved a pinnacle of wealth after establishment of railroads and then industrialization, electricity, monoculture crops, Rust Belt processing/manufacturing, etc.). For example, I recently posted about the work of Oenone Kubie, who studied "urban discipline" and the white anxiety and racial segregation driving children's reformatories in Chicago during the Progressive era. (Kubie argues that eformers were concerned with poverty, truancy, and "delinquency" in tandem with Black migration, which led to "interventions". Chicago hosted the "first municipal playground system" and by 1915 "the city of Chicago ran sixty-six recreation centres. [...] From Chicago, the idea spread around the country. By 1921, almost 200 cities employed a total of over eleven thousand men and women as year-round playground workers.") The case that Martinez was making in the essay we've been discussing (about Chicago's influential role 1880-1910 as a center of policing, surveillance, and the conceptualizing of US imperial frontiers in the Philippines, influenced by Chicago's fear of Black migration) relates to how Chicago has been considered a center of the refining of geographic thought in late nineteenth century, as white Americans crafted ideas of national space (westward expansion into the frontier radiating out from Chicago along railroads; Chicago being hub of industrial agriculture of the prairies/plains as an economic frontier). Kinda brings to mind how scholar Mashid Mayar has recently written about "the cartographic pedagogies of empire" and the teaching of geography to children in the United States in the 1890s ("home geography" school classes, "dissected map" puzzle games, children's magazines that attach "adventure" to ideas of botanical/ethnographic expeditions), giving white children an idea of the planet as an extension of their nation/home at the same time that the US was understanding itself as an empire with dominion in Cuba, Central America, Hawai'i/South Pacific, Philippines, etc.

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For anyone interested in environmental crisis and multispecies ecologies in prairies, Great Plains, "Midwest", Great Lakes, you might like Grace Dillon, Zoe Todd, Kyle Whyte, and Leanne Betasamosake Simpson.

Lots to consider. Sorry for excessive length here. Thank you for saying hi.

[hereticpriest]

Clutch

Relationship: Helmut Zemo x SuperSoldier Reader

Warnings: Happy Hydra Hunting, Badass Reader, Supersoldier Reader, Badass Helmut Zemo, Kink with minimal negotiation but fully consensual, pre-existing relationship, daddy kink, impact play, spanking, punishment, Dom Helmut Zemo, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, pregnancy.

Baron Helmut Zemo watched through a high-powered scope as his lutka approached a brutalistic compound circled with old, rusted wire fencing. She was dressed comfortably for the American Midwest autumn weather, and for the physical activity she was about to do, in thick leggings topped with a long-sleeved sweatshirt. He selfishly took a brief pause to zoom in on the curve of her bum and the flex of her biceps as she gripped the chainlinks of the fence in her hands and tore them apart like it was nothing. God, he loved when she did that. There was nothing hotter to him than his beautiful woman tearing apart any obstacle in her way. Except, perhaps, when she took out an opponent before they even knew they were in a fight.

The Sokovian Baron was perched on an abandoned building a quarter of a mile away, with a good eye line and decent cover. His kraljica was protective, and she liked to keep him out of the line of fire whenever she could, but she never acted like he couldn’t protect himself. She teased him often for his own protective nature when they had been travelling with Bucky and Sam, calling him ‘action man’ and teasingly referring to herself as his damsel in distress. She acknowledged his skill, however, and made good use of it whenever she could. He was better with technology than she was, and he was a skilled engineer, along with being a brilliant man. He was an immensely talented soldier, a leader, a spy and a surprisingly good thief when he was in the mood for it. His mačka, on the other hand, was a talented fighter only made more so by her enhancements. Her senses were off the charts, and she was faster than any other super soldier he’d ever seen, but her reflexes were easily the most impressive enhancement she had. She was a survivalist, gifted at living with limited resources in harsh conditions, and she was a talented hunter. She was multilingual, well-read, and understood an impressive amount about biology and medicine. They made a good duo - two different kinds of hunters working together to flush out and destroy their enemy.

A patrol guard approached where his woman was scouting from, and Zemo watched as before he could even open his mouth to warn her of the danger, she was striking like a cobra. A fist to the throat silenced the man, her ankle sweeping his legs out from under him so that he fell in her arms in a manner that was reminiscent of a dip while dancing. He doesn't see the guard's end. He does not need to in order to know that he will no longer be with this world. When it came to Hydra, his kraljica left no man alive.

Rustling in the thick brush around the fence indicated she had hidden the guard, and he checked the surroundings for any more before letting her know that she was safe. He adjusted his aim, finding the patrolling guards on the roof and taking out one while they were out of each other's line of sight. Two swiftly follows. Number three rounded briefly out of his view, but the moment he came back, Zemo put him down. Four was at the top of a tower, oblivious to what was going on around him, and he was the easiest shot despite the wind and tight quarters.

"All clear." he stated firmly, receiving an affirmative in return. His voljena was off like a light, a blur of motion as she darted across the open field towards the compound. She hit the door like a bullet, and it crashed open, removing her from his sight. Luckily, the compound was poorly planned enough to have large windows through which he could take out some of her adversaries. It was hiding in plain sight as a normal laboratory in which simple blood tests were performed, but that was only a front for a new breed of Hydra reconstructed from the ashes of its predecessor. Several scientists crowded in one room, along with a man who appeared to be in charge, his starch-white lab coat doing little to hide the suit underneath. Zemo couldn’t ID him from behind, but he did resemble Oleksandr Rezler, a former Hydra agent who defected shortly before the fall of Hydra to save his own skin, selling secrets to the UN while keeping Hydra ideals alive in his own reformed image.

Inhale.

One.

Exhale.

Two.

Inhale.

Three.

Exhale.

Four.

Inhale.

Five.

Exhale.

They wised up to the windows, but there was a panic, especially with Rezler incapacitated. Through a first floor window, he spotted his lepotica stalking through the bland halls like a predator. She disarmed a guard, pistol-whipping him hard enough that he crashed through the drywall beside her. She shot another approaching guard, then twisted to shoot the guard she’d disarmed. Zemo watched as she aimed at the wall, firing several shots through it then continuing her march.

“I know your senses are keen, draga, but check your corners. Please.” Zemo requested, and she laughed, rounding the corner into the room she’d just shot into.

“Oh look, ljubavi moja, they’re dead. How shocking!” She teased playfully, leaning out into the hallway as several guards came around the corner looking for her, shooting each of them in quick succession. Out of ammo, she threw the gun to the ground and kept walking. A guard swung through an open doorway to try and surprise her, and she kicked him into the room so she could be seen through the window. Zemo breathed harshly in her ear, unable to help himself as his perfect woman delivered several swift hits to the man’s chest, then took him down through a lab table. The Baron practically panted as she grabbed the guard’s throat, slamming him down into the ground so hard his head cracked the tiles. He would never admit to having to adjust himself in his uncomfortably tight trousers should he be asked, though he knew his partner heard his audible reactions to her over the mic.

Zemo swore he almost moaned in her ear as she stepped on and over the guard’s chest without even looking at him, then walked over to the wall to wall windows. He watched in lovestruck awe as she breathed on the glass to fog it up, then drew a heart, blowing a kiss at him as if she didn’t have blood on her hands. She giggled, and he raised an eyebrow curiously as a mischievous expression crossed her face, shortly before she gripped the front of her shirt and pulled it down to show off her perfect tits.

“Draga, there is a chance someone other than me can see your show.”

“A slim one, yes.”

“You belong to me, lutko moja. As much as I am enjoying the show, and will make you pay for it later, you will cover yourself.” Zemo insisted, and she rolled her eyes, still smiling as she fixed her shirt.

“Luče moje, so protective.” She teased, heading further into the building after blowing him a kiss goodbye. Zemo tracked her progress through the building until she reached the back lab where Rezler lay injured on the ground. He had a towel pressed to the bullet wound in his side, and she pouted mockingly down at him, watching his face twist with recognition.

“You’re meant to be dead.” He breathed as his watery eyes widened with shock, lips flecked with blood.

“Surprise!” She cooed, stepping over him to head over to his desk and stick a USB drive into his computer, “I’m looking for Nikitin. Where is he?”

Rezler spat blood beside him, scowling as he tried to sit up, “Why should I tell you?”

“Because your death can be slow or it can be quick. It can be painful, or I can make the pain stop. You have no true loyalty, Rezler, I know how much you value your pathetic life.”

He gaped at her.

“If I value my life so much, you would lie and tell me you’ll let me live.”

“I don’t care about you enough to lie. Frankly, I would prefer you make this difficult so that I can hurt you. But, srećo moja would likely wish for you to make this quick so we don’t have to stay in this drab country any longer.” His woman replied, and he smiled to himself as he tapped away on his laptop, looking between it and his scope whenever he could. It isn’t easy to get into those files, but he was able to download all of them onto the USB drive remotely so that he can decrypt them later. He has all the time in the world - he’s dead, after all.

“All done. Don’t dawdle to play for too long, ljubavi - we have places to be.” He purred into the mic at his throat, his voice dropping low, accent deepening just to coax his girl to hurry up.

“Yes Daddy.” She replied primly, and he watched with wide eyes and a fluttering in his chest as she lifted her boot and slammed it down on Rezler’s bullet wound. A broken scream split the air, and Zemo found himself shifting atop the roof, pressing the heel of his palm to his crotch again to ease the sudden ache.

Well, fuck.

~

A soft hum greets you as you comb your fingers back through Zemo's hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead as he chews on the end of a pen and glares daggers at his laptop. Depositing a tray of tea on the coffee table, you add a drizzle of honey to his cup then pour the tea overtop, stirring it in while you watch him stew. Finally, his gaze flicks up to yours, and he pushes the glasses perched on the end of his nose back up to sit properly. You watch as he lifts the cup to his lips, blowing gently, then taking a sip and humming at the taste. He’s very particular about his tea, but you’ve learned the way he likes things by now, after so long together just you and him.

"Thank you, duša. Sam has gotten himself involved in our business, I'm afraid." He murmurs, and you shrug, sitting on the arm of his chair to peer at his laptop screen. He's been keeping an eye on the new Captain America and the former Winter Soldier, his tone always laced with gentle affection when he speaks about them. You can see several tabs of news articles about the men, but his focus is on some of the hacked documents he's managed to make his way into regarding the Captain's current movements. He’s been dipping his sticky fingers into the U.S government’s honeypot of data while he waits for the information you both stole from the new branch of Hydra to decrypt.

"Colour me surprised." You reply dismissively, twirling a lock of his hair around your fingers as you read the report Zemo's currently making his way through. A program in the corner of the screen runs command after command, decrypting something, you think. Computers have never really been your skillset - a life lived primarily either in a lab or in a forest wasn't exactly conducive to learning to be a tech wizard like your rich boy partner. You’re fairly sure the new Hydra decryption is being done on the desktop computer in the office, so you’re curious what he’s working on on his laptop, but not curious enough to ask. He’ll tell you when it’s done. He always does.

"I do not believe he understands what he has stepped into." Your Baron presses, and you raise an eyebrow at him sceptically. There’s a furrow in his brow, and a tightness of his mouth that lets you know exactly what he’s thinking.

"You want to get involved." 

It's a statement, not a question. He nods tentatively, and you pinch his cheek.

"You're so soft, srce. Where is the big bad evil villain?”

He snorts, taking your hand before you can retreat, kissing your fingertips. You watch fondly as his lips brush across your palm, nipping your wrist, then kissing a path up your forearm.

"He lurks within, Šećeru, have no fear. I like Samuel, and James. You cannot blame me for worrying for their safety. And, more practically, what if they get in our way? I know you would not like to have to fight them."

You hum contemplatively, a bit of a pout tugging at your lips as you consider your options. You don’t want to involve yourself with Sam and Bucky again, as much as you did privately care for them and want them to succeed. With time and distance, you had begun to ease up on your discomfort regarding Bucky - in the end, he had lied to the Wakandans about your and Zemo’s death in order to give you a fresh start. He didn’t have to do that, and a lesser man might’ve thought he would have a chance if Zemo was out of the way. But you were not like Sam and Bucky - you were not a hero. Self-sacrifice was not wrought like a blight in your blood. You are selfish, greedy, and possessive. You won’t stop until you destroy every last remnant of Hydra, and you have no intentions of giving up your targets, even for Captain America. Only the man in front of you could ever get you to stop, and yet, he would never ask you to.

“What would you like to do about it, love?” You ask, trailing your fingers down the back of your lover’s neck. He sets his laptop on the coffee table and reaches up to grab you by the waist, dragging you into his lap.

“I am decrypting some files to see exactly what Sam has been told so far. Once we know, we offer information, and perhaps we can save them from themselves. For now, malena moja, we will discuss your behaviour today.”

Your spine stiffens, and you wet your lips, leaning back into his strong chest. Large hands stroke your sides, then grip the curve of your waist tightly.

“What behaviour, Hel?” You ask, playing dumb just to see if you can save yourself, but your lover merely tuts at you.

“I believe you called me something else today, malena. Only good girls get to use my name, and I don’t think you were very good. Do you?” He asks, his voice low and gentle, his tone patronizing. He grips your chin between his fingers, turning your head to face him, examining your expression seriously. You weigh your options. There’s a way out of this - there always is. Zemo is offering you what he believes you were asking for today - he would never push for anything you weren’t wholeheartedly into. You merely need to say red and all of this will stop if you don’t want it.

You’d only been teasing today, testing the waters to see how Helmut would react and seeing if you could rile him up. You’d never really considered calling someone ‘Daddy’ before, even in your wildest fantasies. Part of you had wondered if it might upset your lover, though you hoped it wouldn’t. You might get on his nerves on purpose, but you don’t want to hurt him. But, when you think about Helmut, you do see him as a natural caregiver. He’s done it with Bucky, Sam and yourself when he fed you all, offered his money and belongings, or delighted in the ability to show you things you’d never dreamed of. He was nurturing in your relationship, always showing you ample affection and checking in on your needs. The aftercare was fantastic no matter how gentle or rough he was with you. During your first mission together after fleeing Riga, you’d been shot, and Helmut had helped bathe you and take care of your wounds despite you insisting that you could do it yourself. He was a good lover, and a good partner, and you always feel comfortable exploring new things with him. What’s one more?

“No Daddy, I wasn’t.” You reply quietly, tone sullen, and you watch Helmut’s eyes darken with desire. You affect a sweet pout, and he pouts mockingly back at you, keeping his index finger hooked under your chin while his thumb strokes your lips.

“What did you do wrong today, malena?” He asks, and you squirm a little in his lap, kissing the pad of his thumb as if for mercy.

“I-I was rude,” You begin, and he nods his head in agreement, “I called you Daddy without permission. I mocked you when you showed concern for me. A-And…” 

Helmut tilts his head as you pause, pursing his lips, waiting to see how you’ll speak about your biggest infraction.

“And I showed my ti-” You pause as he scowls at you, tutting, “my breasts?”

A tsk.

“My chest?”

Helmut huffs out of his nose, shoving his thumb between your lips to shut you up.

“Let Daddy help you, malena moja, since you cannot seem to get it right. You pulled your top down and showed off your privates - my property - to whoever wanted to look. Naughty little thing.”

You roll your tongue around his thumb, sucking gently, doing your best to impress to avoid catching your lover’s ire. He lets you suck for a moment, but eventually, he seems to tire of the display.

“Do you have anything to say?” he asks, and you wet your lips nervously.

“I’m sorry, Daddy.” You murmur, twisting a little to face him more, hoping he’ll take pity on you.

“I know you are.” Helmut acknowledges, running his hand down your spine, then giving you a little push, “Take off your clothes.”

You hurry to obey, stripping off your shirt and rolling your leggings down your legs, struggling to kick them away fast enough. You throw your bra to the floor and wiggle your underwear down, all while your Baron watches you with a well-schooled indifference. Once you’re finished, you stand awkwardly, unsure what he wants from you. Normally, you’d crawl into his lap and see how quickly you could get his clothes off, but you know that isn’t what he wants.

“Lay across my lap, princeza.” Helmut commands, and you hurry to obey, your face getting hot as he adjusts you over his knees. His hand strokes across your bottom, then squeezes one plump asscheek. A slap jolts you, though it shocks you more than it hurts.

“Oh!”

He laughs, a huff of air that makes you tremble, knowing that laugh as the one he gives when he’s mocking someone. Strong hands guide you into a secure place that puts your bottom up at an angle for him, and you do your best not to tense up.

“I’m going to give you fifteen. You will count each one, and thank me for punishing you. You deserve this, don’t you, malena?” He asks sternly, and you nod, doing your best to relax.

“Yes Daddy. I deserve this punishment.” You reply, and Helmut strokes your bottom approvingly.

“Good girl. See? You can be such a good girl when you want to be.”

You keen as Helmut lays a rough crack against your ass, but you’re quick to follow your instructions, knowing he won’t go gentle on you if you don’t.

“One. Thank you Daddy.”

“Good, baby. Such a good girl.” Helmut coos. You make it through the first ten fairly well, counting and thanking your lover in a timely manner. As you get to eleven, you have to gulp down your sobs before counting, which your Baron allows. He strokes your reddened skin, giving you a bit of break, though twelve comes soon enough once you’ve caught your breath.

“T-Twelve. Thank you Daddy.” You whimper, and Helmut waits a moment to see if you’ll safe word. When you don’t, he gives you thirteen, and you nearly tear the couch cushions under your hands. He’s certainly not going easy on you, and he knows it. His hand aches from how hard he’s spanking you, but your healing factor makes it necessary for this to have any impact. Your counting and thank you comes through whimpers, and Helmut sighs as if he’s disappointed.

“You can’t take the last two, can you, malena?” He asks, and you shake your head.

“I can. I can take it, please give them to me, Daddy.” You beg, and Helmut hums, running his hand down between your legs to stroke the seam of your cunt.

“Good girl. For that, I will give them to you on fresh skin to ease the pain.” He promises, and you sigh with relief.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

You nearly kick him in the head when he slaps the full force of his hand on your cunt, gentler than he had on your ass, but only marginally less painful. You thank him again, counting the fourteenth spank you’ve taken, and Helmut brushes his fingertips across your clit in reward. You spread your legs a little further, and he croons, rubbing his hand from side to side rapidly for a moment, making you squeal and arch in his lap. With no warning, he spanks his hand against your cunt again, and you sob as you nearly shout fifteen, followed swiftly by thanking him. Helmut lays down on the couch, pulling you on top of him with your ass in the air, your knees on either side of his hips. He strokes your back, pressing soft little kisses across your cheeks, whispering praises against your skin.

“So good for me, sweet girl. Moje srce samo tebi pripada. I’m so proud of you, malena. Daddy will take care of you.”

You preen under his attentions, nuzzling your face into his chest as he pets your hair. He lets you rest for a little while, then slowly maneuvers out from under you, promising to return in only a moment. You’re dozing blissfully in a puddle where he left you when you hear the soft padding of his feet as he approaches, and you blink your eyes open lazily.

“Daddy?”

“I’m here, princeza.” He replies, his voice a deep rumble as he slowly begins to rub arnica cream into your already bruising ass, “you heal so quickly. You can take so much, ljubavi moja.”

You stretch lazily under his hands, arching your back until your bottom is in the air, pressing into his hips.

“Ahh, is my princeza feeling needy?” Helmut asks, petting your back sweetly as you wiggle your bottom against the hard bulge in his trousers, “do you think you’ve earned Daddy’s cock?”

You nod insistently, pushing back on him a little harder, and he laughs softly as he undoes his trousers. He doesn’t remove them, instead pulling himself free of his underwear and rubbing the head of his cock through the wetness practically dripping from your cunt. He pushes deep inside of you in a single thrust, bottoming out and angling his hips so he can rub against that spot inside of you that drives you wild with every thrust. You cling to the couch cushions, unwilling to stop despite the slight sting every time his trousers rub against your raw ass, guttural moans rolling from you as Helmut makes an effort at breaking your hips. He’s been fluctuating between excessively gentle and desperately rough since you decided not to take Plan B or any birth control since you found that report in the lab you were kept in. Some days, he seems to be convinced that you’re made of glass, and treats you so gently it’s like he thinks you’re pregnant and ready to pop. Others, he seems so desperate for you that he’s almost brutal in the way he fucks you, like today, where he seems to intend to fuck a baby into you whether you like it or not (and whether you’re already pregnant or not). Luckily, you fully intend on giving him all the children he wants, and you will shape the world into a better place for him, and for them.

Helmut leans over your back as he fucks you, grunting against your ear, muttering in Sokovian about how much he loves you, how good you feel, how good you are for him. He promises to take care of you, treat you like the princess you are in his eyes, make you feel so good you never want for anything. He strums your clit just the way you like, quick and gentle, rolled between his fingers until you scream his name into the cushions. His hot seed floods you only a few thrusts after you go tumbling into a pleasureful end, and he fucks it deeper, squeezing your thighs.

“Hips up, my little love. Keep my seed inside you. Give it time to take, if it hasn’t already.” Your Baron practically purrs to you as he thumps down onto the couch behind you, panting for breath.

“I’m pretty sure you’ve already gotten me pregnant, Daddy.” You respond through a blissful sigh, and Helmut strokes a hand over your bottom, and down over your pretty hips.

“If I haven’t, I will, sweet girl.”

~

In the end, you were, in fact, already pregnant. When you meet up with Sam a few days later to trade information with him, you have to pause partway through the conversation to throw up your guts in a bush. Helmut begins to approach you, but you point at him and shake your finger no. You can just imagine the stressed out, annoyed face he’s making, but you have very little sympathy in your condition. He’s been overprotective since he found out you were carrying his child, but you don’t like it when he fusses over you while you throw up your guts. It’s gross, and even if he doesn’t care about how gross it is, you do.

Sam and Bucky congratulate you both, taking the information offered, and promising to let you know if they find Nikitin. Just under a month later, they alert you to a new lab they’ve found, and the four of you go in together. It’s almost anticlimactic how easy it is with two super soldiers, the new Captain America, and an experienced spec ops soldier like Zemo. Nikitin begs for his life the same as any other man, and Sam leaves the room to let you put a bullet between the Hydra monster’s eyes. As you leave, they promise to alert you about any new developments, and you promise to send them baby photos when your child is born. Bucky asks if you’ve thought about how you’ll deal with a super soldier child, and Helmut comments that the child will have the serum diluted in their blood, and hopefully won’t be as strong as a normal super soldier. What were the chances the child would be anywhere near as strong as you? Minimal at best.

Helmut is a godsend during your pregnancy, despite how annoyed you get when he’s overprotective or overbearing. He does well not to compare you to Heike, who you know from previous conversation had a very easy pregnancy and posted glowing photos to her instagram page. It was in memoriam now, but you had curled up on the couch with Helmut to look through the photos of his late family together one night shortly after escaping Riga together. She was a beautiful woman, and Carl was a stunning little boy, and you grieved for their loss with Helmut in what he later said was a very cathartic night of snuggles and tears.

He’s soft with you when he needs to be, but he gets stern when you’re neglecting yourself or putting too much energy into something needless. He’s gotten good at manhandling you despite you being stronger. You’re careful with your strength with him to avoid hurting him, and he’s been able to use that to his advantage to overpower you when necessary. He rubs your feet and ankles, helps you in and out of the bath as you get larger, gets you any food you ask for even if you wake him up at two in the morning to beg for ice cream, or strawberries with the skin peeled off, or oranges without any pith left on them, or extra-crispy bacon. He is endlessly patient with your mood swings or constant need to pee, and sympathetic to your morning sickness. You were fairly sure he was soothed at least somewhat by the fact that you were insatiably horny since the first trimester. Not a day went by where you didn’t have your ‘baby daddy’ as you called him, just to make him cringe - which, frankly, was something you had begun to delight in since the beginning of your pregnancy. Nothing seemed to entertain you more than making Helmut cringe out of his skin by repeating weird sayings from the internet that you didn’t fully understand, or using cheesy pick-up lines. You called it teasing, but he called it ‘breaching the Geneva conventions with obvious malice’.

Truthfully, the world has little cause to think you both alive, for you spend most of your time bent over a supportive pillow in your extraordinarily comfortable bed while Zemo makes his best effort at making you lose your mind. It’s one of his main skills, and certainly the one he’s most proud of. Your hunger is seemingly unending, and while you may be superhuman, Zemo is only a man. A wonderful man who does his best to meet your needs, but he can only perform so many times in a night, and he does eventually exhaust himself. Thankfully, he’s also very fond of tying you down and strapping a vibrator to your clit until you finally tire yourself out, and that is often enough to get you warmed up for him to take care of you properly and tire you out at the same time as him. It was a very, very pleasurable learning experience.

You develop faster than a normal pregnancy, but you did expect this - Hydra hoped you would be able to give birth and become pregnant again in the same year, giving them more chances of a supersoldier army. You’re the size of a blimp before you even know it, and Zemo worries endlessly about how your birth will go. He hopes that you won’t have any problems, but is thankful at least that he’s fairly sure you won’t be having a superhuman baby considering the lack of spine-breaking kicks. Your baby was going to be normal. Or at least, mostly normal.

~

Zemo was wrong.

Your daughter is born in the midst of a summer thunderstorm, and she comes out wailing her little lungs out. Helmut is instantly smitten, laying on the bed beside you, stroking her little hands as she latches to your breast for the first time. He can’t seem to keep his hands off either of you, and he nearly cries when your daughter wraps her little hand around his finger. He peppers you with kisses despite your obvious exhaustion and the fact that you’re soaked in sweat, then wipes your face clean to make you more comfortable. He tells you you’ve never been more beautiful, and you tell him he’s an asshole, because you definitely have.

The problem begins when your daughter is six months old, and has decided that she wants things, and can get them with her own two hands. Adelheid is too strong for a normal baby. Too strong, even, for a slightly-super baby. Zemo collapses on the couch after having to wrestle your daughter into her onesie and eventually swaddling her just to keep her from getting into trouble, his hands over his face as you rock her to put her to sleep. When you rejoin him, you pull his head into your lap and pet his hair, smiling when he buries his face in your stomach.

“This is your fault.” You murmur, “You jinxed us, Hel.”

“I know I did.” He whines, groaning into your belly, “I’m not going to be able to keep up.”

“You’re perfectly fine at wrangling me.” You remind him, and he scoffs.

“You want to be wrangled. Babies do not want to be wrangled.” Zemo retorts, sitting up and pressing a gentle kiss to your mouth, his hand cupping your cheek, “I will need your help. Every step of the way.”

“Well, it’s a very good thing I have no intention of going anywhere, isn’t it?” You reply with a smile, stroking his cheeks with both hands, enjoying the soft stubble he’s been too busy to shave, “It’s you and me.”

“You and me.” Zemo agrees, pressing his forehead to yours and sighing. He’s too old for this. Too old for a superpowered baby and a superpowered woman.

And yet he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

[abbacchiosbelt]

ooooo f1 (from the yandere prompts ehe) + anasui maybe?

Anasui's hand clamps down around your mouth as he pulls you into the alleyway you'd nearly run past, the rusted chainlink fence proving an obstacle until Anasui busted it open with Diver Down. The coppery scent of blood fills your nostrils - but you know better than to scream. Anasui drags both of you deeper into the alleyway, your bodies descending into the darkness until no one could see you from a mere glance.

You're forced against the scratchy brick wall as Anasui covers your body with his own, his hand still pressed over your mouth. A beat passes before you hear muffled voices, the alleyway almost completely dampening them.

Anasui exhales against you, harsh, and his body tenses when the voices get louder.

"Ya think they went this way?" A low voice calls out - one of the men who'd survived Anasui's... outburst earlier.

A chain link fence rattles and your eyes open wide. Anasui presses down harder on your mouth, but he rubs his thumb across your cheek, soft.

"Not with this old thing rusted shot. And it's way too high for both of 'em to hop." The rattling stops.

Anasui must have closed the fence with Diver Down - or at least made it appear as such in order to throw off the two men chasing you.

"Right. Let's keep going. That fucking asshole isn't gonna get away with this." The low voice again. The sound of footsteps is the only indication you have that your pursuers are leaving - at least for now.

[ 'It' being Anasui's attack on some scumbag who had been harassing people in the park while the two of you had been on a date. He'd recognized them as a member of one of the gangs he'd encountered during his time in prison. (The prison he'd mysteriously been let out early of, despite the nature of his crimes...)

Anasui had been content to ignore it until the man had made a beeline for the two of you. The second the man's gaze had centered on you, Anasui was up and swinging, knocking the man out with a blow so hard his nose had busted open.

His associates that had been waiting nearby had been alerted by the screaming of random park-goers, the sudden violence having shocked several of them. You couldn't blame them - even you were exactly used to it yet.

Anasui had cursed and mumbled something about not wanting to draw so much attention to himself, and had promptly grabbed your arm before taking off in a dead sprint away from the park. You'd been dragged along, your chest heaving with exertion by the time Anasui had stopped. It had led you to the alleyway, and where you currently were now. ]

Anasui finally pulls his hand away from your mouth. You inhale deeply, the fresh air more than welcome. He's silent while you continue to catch your breath, though he keeps you pressed against the wall with his body caged around your own. You manage to turn around so that you're facing him, and he sighs.

"Didn't mean to push you so hard," Anasui purses his lips, and you glare at him.

"That's all? You're not going to mention the guy you just knocked out?" You whisper-shout, still nervous that the men pursuing you could come back at any moment. Sure, Anasui could lay them flat... But you were worried about drawing too much attention, too - or the fact that word could get back to other gang members. He huffs in annoyance. You're incredulous. "I'm the one who should be getting annoyed. For fuck's sake, Anasui!"

Anasui's pout turns into a frown, and his sudden intense glare leaves the words on your tongue dormant. "You knew what you were getting into when you got involved with me. Don't act like I'm the problem here." You're left gaping at his words, the sentiment ridiculous. But what could you say to argue with him? Anasui watches the gears turn in your head before he tilts his head toward you, his lips curled into a smile. "Now, let's get back to our date. I'd hate to upset you even more, so let me make it up to you."

request from this set of ask prompts!

[puppyboypatrick]

re: firsts and falling into something that isnt really love

climbing over chainlink fences. hands unsteady the whole way up. scraped heels of hands covered in mud after hitting the ground. damp jeans and grass stains. rusted park playground sets. moonlight. flat soda. thrumming eardrums, throbbing headache. kiss you with my fist before crashing lips. open mouthed kisses, open minded rambles. desperation. muses. time slowed. always 11:11.

i felt different back then, like i/we had something. something awful, something better. i miss you. we’ll live forever in our initials imbedded on the seat of that swing. xo.

[schoolrust]

"What On Earth Is SchoolRust?"

Glad you asked! SchoolRust is an aesthetic (titled by me) focused on places and things that are old, abandoned, or forgotten, and most of all macabre. The locations are typically those that have decayed or broken down over time, and places that have an odd sense of nostalgia to them. I also like to put an emphasis on places that have been greatly affected by industrialization, like factories, urban settings, schools, power plants, stores, etc.... wherever you might find a chainlink fence and rusted machinery, basically. Overall: the contrast of things that are soft and nostalgic vs things that are cold, worn down, and dreary. A slowly decaying childhood home with a cell tower looming over it, or a school playground covered in rust on a rainy day, are some images that come to mind; thus the name. Other aspects of the aesthetic include old toys, outdated decor/architecture, thrifty and macabre clothes, as well as things that might remind you of urban legends and late 2000s-early 2010s creepypasta culture. Both the horror and comfort of the past are very welcome here.

images from Another (2012), a stock image website, this Tokyo Teddy Bear MV, and yours truly~

A lot of this aesthetic was inspired by both my interest in online horror (both as a kid and as an adult), as well as growing up in a low income area with many abandoned or outdated buildings and odd places to explore, so it's definitely a bit of a personal and hyperspecific niche; but I hope other people like it too! Maybe we can share in our experiences, and our love of the strange, forgotten, and familiar. ♥

[townofcadence]

"I'm gonna be so pissed off if we die." (Francois to anyone xD)

@ryouscared continued from here!

A hand waves, both flippantly and emphatically. "Don't be so worried, we're gonna be fine! I wander around remote, dilapidated, and abandoned places like this all the time and nothing bad's ever happened to me before!" Steph beams, illuminated by their flashlights and all of the bright glow in the dark pieces in his outfit.

He squeezes sideways through a rusted, half curled open chainlink fence. "A little exploring never killed anyone, anyway. Except for sometimes! But maybe we'll be lucky enough to be finding some dead people tonight too!" He beams, reaching back through to hold the fence open for his companion. "...ghosts, of course, not corpses. Unless they're reanimated in some way. If not we might have to call the cops so they can get the body."

"All of those things you listed are exactly what concerns me, Stephen." Francois answered in a dry voice, but he followed Steph through the opening, ducking the top bar of the fence. He nodded his thanks to Steph before continuing onward, towards the old school. They were cutting through the playground, though the grass had long since choked the life from any of the equipment. There were some areas that looked broken down into footpaths, however, which began at the opening in the fence.

Likely children doing delinquencies, judging by the mediocre graffiti on the slide. That wasn't even how you spelled government. And if you were going to choose a long word, at least make sure you spaced out the letters appropriately.

Amateurs.

"There will be a first time for everything. Especially if you repeat the same behaviors enough. The sometimes has to happen to someone. And someone could be us. very easily." He continued, starting down the footpath towards the building. "But yes. I suppose if there are any appropriately inanimate corpses, we will handle that as needed. I assume that being a possibility means the history of this place entails missing persons?"

[victoriautmorse]

tokyo howling // faim de loup ◥ ▍ howl / aevitas verse starter; @lovehungered

Neon lights scatter amongst the mist of rain;

A shower of artificial light, vibrant hues of cyan and bright magenta rafracting for less than a breath in the midnight downpour before breaking in a smatter against concrete, asphalt and glass - forming shallow pools beneath the step of feet to mirror back the rising city above, rippling with its burning image and abuzz with the dreams of a never-slumbering metropolis. In this dense a packing of streetlamps, vibrant phosphorence and cross-mounted screens the domination of light burns out the stars themselves, leaving only the full of the moon to hang a looming, singular eye in the dark of the night beyond the peaks of manmade monuments to commerce and entertainment.

In the heart of Tokyo, it listens and brings life to the music of a million people, the swing and laughter of endless venture, joy, despair, the deep rumble of traffic framing it like a backdrop beat--

But down here?

It's all just noise.

The vapor of his breath breathes a cloud of fog in the air in front of him with each rapid respiration, rough pads and the scrape of claws against the ground pushing him forwards with each thrum of his pulse whilst the shadows covers his descent through backlit passages; only grazingly does the cast of light break through the slim gaps in the steel-stone constructs around him, cracking between buildings into narrowing alleys to catch a flash of wet, red-tufted fur, the flicker of neon signs reflected in the glint of wild eyes and the white of too sharp teeth, bared raw against the world. This concrete jungle, built for animals of a different kind.

He doesn't belong here.

But where does he ever?

Taut muscle strains in acid and his lungs wheeze hot with smoke; the shrill sights and sounds of the city stinging onto already high strung senses, setting the beast's eyes narrow at every glare of LED that invades them and peaked ears twitching irrate with the drum of engines and screech of tires all around him. It's too loud to think, too loud to do anything but feel and let his instincts carry him away, somewhere, anywhere, as far as he can go and as deep as his claws can bury him until the urge to lash and tear at the universe suffocates with the empty hunger at the pit of him.

With a careless thrust of his bulk past a mountain of trash - stacked upon old containers which see a clattering of rusted discard scatter around his wake - he rounds the corner into a sudden wash of almost open air punching his gut, the stench of waste overtaken by the sweeter scent of cherry trees and the symphony of rain sinking into an expanse of winding water ahead. He stills. A tattered chainlink fence stands between him and the riverfront walk, the light of the street spilling faintly between brick where it comes to fade and dim, casting shadows at his feet and outlining what's emerged of his bearing a grimhound silouette. The metal is frail. It wouldn't stop him. It's not what does.

It is the figure of a man behind it, looking back.

[kevin--of-desert-bluffs]

WTNV quick rundown - The Novel -

This is the post about random facts we learnt about other (non-protag) citizens of NV! Basic Plot of the Novel is here. Diane, Josh and Jackie random facts here. NV/King City and MITTJ random facts here.

The history of the town of Night Vale is long and complicated, reaching back thousands of years to the earliest indigenous people in the desert. We will cover none of this here. […] It is a friendly desert community, where the sun is hot, the moon is beautiful and mysterious lights past overhead while we all pretend to sleep. Welcome to Night Vale.

Old Woman Josie's house is a 'small tract house whose tract no longer stood' and she makes a moderate income selling items the Erikas have touched. It is a low bungalow, avocado green, with a neat lawn kept well watered in a dry climate 'at the expense of some other place'. The lawn is surrounded by a border of pebbles arranged into geometric patterns (perhaps meant to ward off evil). The fence between the lawn and the car lot is tall and chainlink. She has a metal gate and in her side yard there is an outdoor seating area made of rusted metal. There's rocking chairs with cushions whose fabric has faded nearly all the way white in the sun.

Josie walks with a cane and has long hair but also an 'olympic atheletes body' perched on an old womans' skeleton.

Josie has a cloth-wrapped bundle buried in her garden. She digs it up when she's talking to Jackie. She later reveals it's an idol to old gods she was using as 'lawn decorations' but it was 'too needy'.

Cecil considers it is job to hide dangerous knowledge from NV.

Citizens called Chris Brody and Stuart Robinson are mentioned.

Cecil conducted a 3 hours interview with himself, interrogating himself on his motivations, where he is in life, why he's not in a different place in life, whose fault that is and why he said that one embarassing thing once.

There is a woman called Sheila who sits in the Moonlite and takes notes on people as they enter. She touches a flamingo, causing her to reply her life over and over to the point of touching it, completely aware of the loop and powerless in it. She eventually breaks it by becoming an intern for Cecil, but later dies falling down a pit of the flamigos, splintering herself into many versions of herself even as the primary one hits the bottom and dies.

Laura, the waitress with branches coming out of her, also produces fruit which patrons take off and eat. However, she also bleeds from these branches including when harvested from.

When the Erika's appear and disappear or move there is a flash of blinding bright blackness, a darkness so radient it makes you feel like your heart will break. They also 'don't see gender' so have trouble telling humans gender. They are said to be made of bright black beams of light and when they shrug there is the flutter of hundreds of tiny wings. Where eyes might be on a human there is a shadowy glow that you can taste in the back of your mouth (tastes like strawberry candy covered in mud).

The Glow Cloud (all hail) opens a new roller rink downtown.

Intern Jodi accidentally or on purpose alphabatizes her self as part of the SSP's daily census of every item in NV, leaving most of the stations items un-alphabatised.

The NV PTA threatens to block the doors to the school with literal bodies they own if the school board won't prevent kids learning about dangerous topics like drug use and library science during recess. The school board responds that PTA funds should not be used to purchase so many bodies.

Cecil invites people to drop by his genius boyfriends lab if they want things explained (like clouds, which he explains earlier in the broadcast).

Scientists are 'pack animals' and Carlos is their leader in NV. His lab is on the outskirts of the 'science district' which is pretty rundown because scientists don't like gentrification. Several different kinds of scientist live together which sometimes results in public conflicts but mostly they get along. Carlos lab is clearly labelled with a simple illuminated yellow and black LAB sign and a handwritten 'we are open' sign in the front window.

Carlos describes Cecil as as overenthusiastic, consumed with his work and having very little understanding of science and he loves him a lot. Aside from Cecil and science, Carlos says there's nothing he loves more than helping people. He came to NV for what was supposed to be a short research fellowship with the community college. Scientists Nilanjana and Stan are mentioned.

Carlos says he never missed Cecil's show and that he's not been in NV nearly long enough. He also says it's unscientific for him to talk about his experiences in the otherworld/himself.

Steve Carlsberg is fond of invisible pie.

There is a guard outside of city hall but he's wearing a mask which blocks out all sound and sight.

The mayors receptionist is an elderly man who is nonverbal and communicates via gestures.

Dana openly wishes she weren't mayor and misses her intern days.

Cecil attended Earl's/Tourniquets dinner party and couldn't taste anything for weeks after which is apparently a good thing.

The TV news anchors are insectoid-like humanoid creatures called Tim and Trinh who can talk directly to Diane. There's also somebody called Ben who works at the tv station.

Cecil mentions that interns wear a tunic and have duties which include mimeographs, making coffee and editing his slash fics. He doesn't seem to remember that most of his interns die, insisting that most of them must have gone on to do good things.

According to Carlos, the four steps of scientific method are: find an object you want to know more about, hook that object up to a machine using wires and tubes, write things on a clipboard and then read the results that the machine prints.

Carlos says that the flamingos are not made of materials native to NV because plastic and metal stakes don't grow in the desert.

Carlos is part of Cecil's bowling league team.

[sketchy-scribs-n-doods]

Sometimes Billy wondered if his father hadn't left some part of himself behind, like a sickness left to fester in the untended darkness of Billy's mind. As if the blood and splitting cells underneath his skin weren't parting gift enough from the man who was father in little more than name. The last in a long line of men who hurt little boys that then grew up to hurt other little boys. A rusted, bleeding chainlink fence of hurt and turned blind eyes that Billy had torn apart with his own two hands to crawl through to the other side of paradise.

As if.

There was no paradise, only the promise of never again being beholden to the twisted metal growth that lay between him and the life he wanted for himself. He had screamed and cried at this fence many years before. But Max had taken the first swing at it.

There were bloodied nails and cracked chips of wood caught in the metal, a red dripping violence they'd passed down to her. Billy had merely dug his hands into the long nailed splintered bat soaked rage she'd left there and pulled. Pulled and held slippery metal spokes apart for them to both crawl under, to both leave behind with hands held tight. Maybe they'd find a place where they could tend their wounds together. Somewhere quiet and safe to wash the smell of iron off their hands.

(A sanctuary where Billy could burn the clinging grip of twisted rot his father had sowed in him down to ashes, and tear with freshly scrubbed hands what roots of it had dared try to settle in Max's heart.)

[teddy-bear-naps-and-random-snaps]

[autumn-oceanopromises]

(962) directions to a familiar town

my friend was studying suicide modeling public health will do that to you - the ones that try, it’s always about stress a spike of massive, additional stress driven into too-burdened steel eaten up by salt-water rust having had just one brief appeal to step into that spider’s parlor he’d never known the calculations to adjust for it 

i suppose it was nice to give him directions draw a map on folded napkins he’d never drawn for himself me, i’ve walked the shape of my familiar roads and got all turned around, i know the landmarks off by heart there, the abandoned church half-crushed under a backsliding cliff here, once-a-garden pushing roots between cracked sandstone cobbles i slept on those streets, aching and shivering and too-hot in different seasons and carve-traced the letters molded on the sewer lids into my arms 

cows can’t go down stairs. i put horns on in the china shop that was social interactions blew my heart out until i was breathlessly forgetting how to climb out, how to leave

those suburban streets were my home, more than any roof was there was this - thrill - of walking the fenced border something ever-so-bright and ever-so-real i still know the hole in the chainlink that lets me in

i’m fine now, i’m okay it’s a comforting place but i don’t want to visit my knees are aching in the cold now, i can’t walk as long as i used to but i’ll give directions to people who’ll study it open the hole to let people view it from a safe distance, of course no one else needs to live there.

[meghmanimetal]

Supplier of Chainlink Fencing in Rajasthan

Meghmani Metal Industries stands out as a prominent Manufacturer, Exporter, and Supplier of Chainlink Fencing in Rajasthan, India. We were Established in 2011 in Ahmedabad, Gujarat, India. Meghmani Metal Industries has consistently focused on ensuring customer satisfaction and upholding environmental responsibility in its operations. Chainlink fencing, often referred to as wire mesh or cyclone fencing, is a favored option for both residential and commercial properties because of its durability, cost-effectiveness, and versatility. Made up of interwoven steel wires arranged in a diamond pattern, this fencing type provides a blend of strength and visibility, making it suitable for a wide range of applications. Our chain link fences are crafted from galvanized steel, offering resistance to rust and corrosion. This durability makes them ideal for diverse weather conditions and ensures a long lifespan with minimal maintenance. The strong construction of chain link fencing creates a reliable barrier that is challenging to breach, making it ideal for securing properties, playgrounds, industrial sites, and military installations.   Types of Chainlink Fencing: Standard Galvanized Chainlink Fencing Vinyl-Coated Chainlink Fencing Heavy-Duty Chainlink Fencing Privacy Chainlink Fencing Barbed Wire Chainlink Fencing Electric Chainlink Fencing   Applications of Chainlink Fencing: Residential Use Commercial and Industrial Use Security Perimeters Sports Fields and Parks Agricultural Use   Meghmani Metal Industries is a Supplier of Chainlink Fencing in Rajasthan, India Including Jaipur, Jodhpur, Pali, Tonk, Udaipur, Alwar, Sikar, Bikaner, Ajmer, Kota, Sri Ganganagar, Bhilwara, Banswara, Bharatpur, Baran, Beawar, Bhiwadi, Hanumangarh, Dholpur, Pratapgarh, Dungarpur, Jaisalmer, Hindaun, Bundi, Chittorgarh, Kishangarh, Sujangarh, Sawai Madhopur, Pushkar, and Churu.   For additional information, please feel free to contact us. View Product: Click Here Read the full article

[tatawire]

Common Problems with GI Chainlink Fences and How to Fix Them

Rust Formation: Apply a rust-resistant coating or paint to prevent and address rust on the fence.

Loose Mesh: Tighten or replace any loose or damaged sections to maintain security and appearance.

Bent or Damaged Posts: Realign or replace bent posts to ensure stability and proper tension of the fence.

Missing or Broken Links: Repair or replace broken links to maintain the integrity and functionality of the fence.

Ground Shifting: Secure the base with additional supports or reinforcements to prevent shifting and ensure stability.

https://www.tatawiron.com/segments/agriculture#chain-link-fence

[carouselofmusess]

"I'm gonna be so pissed off if we die." (Francois to anyone xD)

A hand waves, both flippantly and emphatically. "Don't be so worried, we're gonna be fine! I wander around remote, dilapidated, and abandoned places like this all the time and nothing bad's ever happened to me before!" Steph beams, illuminated by their flashlights and all of the bright glow in the dark pieces in his outfit.

He squeezes sideways through a rusted, half curled open chainlink fence. "A little exploring never killed anyone, anyway. Except for sometimes! But maybe we'll be lucky enough to be finding some dead people tonight too!" He beams, reaching back through to hold the fence open for his companion. "...ghosts, of course, not corpses. Unless they're reanimated in some way. If not we might have to call the cops so they can get the body."

[rabbittales12]

How to make your own Cryptocurrency

In recent years, the world of digital finance has witnessed an unprecedented surge in interest and innovation, particularly with the advent of cryptocurrencies. While Bitcoin, Ethereum, and other established cryptocurrencies dominate the market, there is still ample room for new entrants. If you've ever pondered the idea of creating your own cryptocurrency, you're not alone. With the right knowledge and tools, it's entirely feasible to embark on this exciting journey. In this guide, we'll walk you through the essential steps to how to make your own cryptocurrency.

Understand the Basics:

Before diving into the technical aspects, it's crucial to grasp the fundamental concepts of cryptocurrencies. Familiarize yourself with blockchain technology, consensus mechanisms, and tokenomics. Companies like Coinbase, Binance, and Kraken offer extensive educational resources to help you get started.

Define Your Purpose and Objectives:

Every successful cryptocurrency serves a specific purpose or addresses a particular need within the market. Determine the problem your cryptocurrency aims to solve and outline its unique features and benefits. Whether it's enhancing privacy, facilitating faster transactions, or enabling decentralized finance (DeFi), clarity of purpose is essential.

Choose a Consensus Mechanism:

Selecting the right consensus mechanism is crucial for ensuring the security and efficiency of your cryptocurrency network. Popular options include Proof of Work (PoW), Proof of Stake (PoS), Delegated Proof of Stake (DPoS), and Practical Byzantine Fault Tolerance (PBFT). Companies like Ethereum, Cardano, and Algorand employ various consensus mechanisms, offering valuable insights into their implementation.

Design the Token Economics:

Token economics govern the distribution, supply, and utility of your cryptocurrency. Decide on factors such as the total token supply, initial distribution method, inflation rate (if any), and mechanisms for incentivizing network participants. Companies like Ripple (XRP) and Stellar (XLM) provide excellent examples of well-designed token economics.

Develop the Blockchain:

Building the underlying blockchain infrastructure is a complex yet rewarding endeavor. Depending on your technical proficiency, you may choose to develop the blockchain from scratch or utilize existing blockchain platforms like Ethereum, Binance Smart Chain, or Solana. Companies such as ConsenSys, R3, and Chainlink offer robust blockchain development tools and frameworks.

Code the Smart Contracts:

Smart contracts are self-executing agreements coded onto the blockchain, governing various functions within your cryptocurrency ecosystem. Utilize programming languages like Solidity (for Ethereum) or Rust (for Polkadot) to develop smart contracts for functionalities such as token issuance, transfers, and governance. Companies like Chainlink and Truffle provide tools and libraries to streamline smart contract development.

Implement Security Measures:

Security is paramount in the world of cryptocurrencies, given the prevalence of hacking and fraud. Implement robust security measures such as multi-signature wallets, encryption protocols, and regular code audits to safeguard your cryptocurrency network. Companies like CertiK and Quantstamp offer blockchain security auditing services to fortify your project against vulnerabilities.

Launch and Promote Your Cryptocurrency:

Once your cryptocurrency is developed and thoroughly tested, it's time to launch it into the market. Create a compelling marketing strategy to generate awareness and attract users and investors. Leverage social media platforms, crypto forums, and partnerships with influencers to promote your cryptocurrency effectively. Companies like CoinMarketCap, CoinGecko, and CoinTelegraph can help amplify your reach within the crypto community.

Foster Community Engagement:

Building a vibrant and engaged community around your cryptocurrency is essential for its long-term success. Establish communication channels such as Discord, Telegram, and Reddit to interact with your users, address their concerns, and gather feedback. Encourage community participation through events, bounties, and reward programs to foster loyalty and advocacy.

Stay Compliant and Adapt:

As the regulatory landscape surrounding cryptocurrencies evolves, it's crucial to stay informed and ensure compliance with relevant laws and regulations. Stay abreast of regulatory developments in jurisdictions where your cryptocurrency operates and adapt your strategies accordingly. Companies like Coinbase Compliance and Elliptic offer compliance solutions to navigate regulatory challenges effectively.

In conclusion, creating your own cryptocurrency is a challenging yet rewarding endeavor that requires careful planning, technical expertise, and strategic execution. By following these steps and learning from established companies and projects in the cryptocurrency space, you can embark on this exciting journey with confidence. Remember to stay innovative, adaptable, and community-focused to maximize the potential of your cryptocurrency project in the dynamic world of digital finance.