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santwires · 1 year ago

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Sant Wires' Gabion Boxes: Robust Retaining Walls for Jammu & Kashmir

How Sant Wires Ltd’s Gabion Boxes Build Strong Retaining Walls in Jammu & Kashmir

Tackling Soil Erosion and Slope Instability in Hilly Terrains

The hilly and mountainous regions of Jammu & Kashmir are known for their stunning landscapes and diverse ecosystems. However, these areas also face significant problems like soil erosion and slope instability. These issues can lead to landslides, loss of farmland, and damage to infrastructure. Therefore, it is important to find strong and lasting solutions for soil retention and slope stabilization.

Challenges with Traditional Earth Retention Methods

Traditional methods like concrete retaining walls or soil nailing often don't work well in the hilly regions of Jammu & Kashmir. These methods can force the soil to maintain unnatural angles, which increases the risk of structural failure. Additionally, factors like heavy rainfall, earthquakes, and temperature changes can affect the soil and the stability of these traditional retaining structures.

What are Gabion Boxes and How Do They Work?

Gabion boxes are rectangular wire mesh containers filled with rocks or other materials. They are typically made from strong, heavily galvanized steel wire, which provides durability. The mesh allows for flexibility and permeability, making gabion boxes an ideal solution for construction projects in challenging terrain.

The wire mesh acts as a flexible form, allowing the box to adapt to ground movements without losing its integrity. The rocks inside are tightly packed, creating a dense and strong structure capable of withstanding substantial loads and environmental stresses. The permeable design of gabion boxes allows water to pass through, reducing the buildup of pressure and minimizing the risk of structural failure due to water accumulation.

About Sant Wires Ltd – Leading Gabion Box Manufacturer in Uttarakhand

Sant Wires Ltd, based in Rishikesh, Uttarakhand, is a leading company in gabion box manufacturing. With over two decades of experience, they provide high-quality gabion boxes for various infrastructure projects. Their state-of-the-art manufacturing facility ensures the production of durable and reliable gabion boxes.

Sant Wires Ltd offers a wide range of gabion boxes tailored to meet the needs of different projects, including retaining walls, slope stabilization, erosion control, and landscaping. Their commitment to quality is evident in their entire manufacturing process, from sourcing premium raw materials to implementing stringent quality control measures.

Resilience Against Environmental Factors

Gabion structures by Sant Wires Ltd are designed to withstand harsh environmental conditions, making them ideal for the rugged terrain of Jammu & Kashmir. The wire mesh used in the construction is made from high-quality, corrosion-resistant materials, ensuring long-lasting performance even in damp or humid conditions. The rock-filled baskets allow for natural drainage, reducing the risk of water accumulation and subsequent soil erosion.

Gabion structures are also highly resistant to seismic activity due to their flexible design. This feature makes them an excellent choice for areas prone to earthquakes, like Jammu & Kashmir.

Gabion Boxes: Versatile and Adaptable Solutions for Hilly Terrains

Gabion boxes from Sant Wires Ltd offer a versatile and adaptable solution for retaining walls and slope stabilization in Jammu & Kashmir. They can be used for various projects, including riverbank protection, erosion control, and even architectural and landscaping features. Their modular design allows for customization, enabling the creation of unique and visually appealing structures that blend with the natural environment.

Successful Gabion Box Projects by Sant Wires Ltd

Sant Wires Ltd has a proven track record of successful gabion box projects in challenging hilly regions. For example, they built a retaining wall along a steep slope in the Himalayan region of Uttarakhand, stabilizing the slope and blending seamlessly with the surroundings. In Himachal Pradesh, their gabion boxes reinforced a roadside embankment, preventing potential landslides and ensuring road safety.

Contact Sant Wires Ltd for Gabion Solutions

Sant Wires Ltd offers comprehensive gabion solutions for retaining wall structures in the hilly terrains of Jammu & Kashmir. Whether you’re a contractor, developer, or government agency, their team of experts is available for consultations and site visits to help you find the perfect gabion solution for your project. Contact Sant Wires Ltd today to create durable and sustainable retaining wall structures for the challenging terrains of Jammu & Kashmir.

For More Information:

C-4/1, UPSIDC Industrial Area,Dhalwala, Rishikesh,Uttarakhand 249201

7983416390

[email protected]

#Gabion Boxes near me #Gabion Wire Mesh Boxes #Gabion Boxes Manufacturer #Gabion Box Wholesaler #Gabion Boxes #Gabion Boxes Manufacturer in uttarakhand.

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arthuntblog · 2 months ago

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Christian Boltanski (1944-2021) [France] - 2 Works, Reserve, 1989. 64 tin boxes with cloth and 2 metal drawers with wire mesh and black and white photographs, (229 X 47 X 22 cm).

#art #contemporary art #art hunt streak week #Christian Boltanski #conceptual art #installation art #light #sculpture #figurative art

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facts-i-just-made-up · 1 year ago

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How do you build a atomic bomb?

Easily!

All you need are a few household items, a little bit of patience, and a Class 1 Top Security clearance for the manufacture of biological, chemical or nuclear weapons under the Fermi laws of 1954 contingent to permission from the United Nations Security Council.

You're gonna need-

A box of matches

A blender

Tape

Some wire mesh (Like a window screen, for sifting)

Cake mix (Yellow sponge cake works best)

Ziplock bags

String

Ice cubes (The cold kind, not the rapper/actor)

A toilet paper tube

A Catholic Missal

An empty kitty litter bucket

First, you're gonna need two rare substances- Weapons grade uranium and "heavy" water. For the uranium, just take your yellow cake mix and sift it with the wire mesh. Whatever stays on top of the mesh- That's weapons grade. For the heavy water, take some ice cubes, which are heavier than water but still made of water, and put them in the blender. By breaking up the ice cubes and releasing the water, you keep the weight but make it a fluid. This is a process that scientists call "Putrefaction".

To build the weapon, pack some uranium into one end of the toilet paper tube and then cover that end with the Catholic Missal. This guarantees what we call a "Critical Mass" of uranium. Then take a smaller wad of uranium and pack it into the other end of the tube, leaving plenty of space between the two.

Tape the box of matches to that end of the tube. It will act as an explosive device to send the "bullet" of uranium into the critical mass, thus resulting in a nuclear fission explosion.

You now have a nuclear fission device! This device has a yield equal to about 10 thousand tons of T.N.T. But fission is for wimps, right? So let's turn that fission bomb, into a fusion bomb!

Tape your string to the matches to act as a fuse, and then put the nuclear warhead in a ziplock bag. Be sure to seal it tight! Now place that assembly into the kitty litter bucket. Make sure it's empty of kitty litter before the next step.

Fill the rest of the bucket with the heavy water you made in step one, and seal the top of the kitty litter bucket with the string still poking out. Once the fuse is lit, it will light the matches and detonate the nuclear fission bomb. This acts as a heat source to boil the heavy water, and when heavy water boils- Nuclear Fusion!

Congratulations, your bomb is now complete. Remember that it's illegal to carry or detonate a nuclear fusion warhead in public (except in Texas), and bear in mind this will be quite a bit stronger than your usual firecrackers. We recommend only setting off your nuclear device on official U.S. testing grounds, such as the desserts of New Mexico or islands in the Pacific only populated by tribes under no country's protection, because that's seriously what the U.S. did.

So play safe and have a good time,

-facts-i-just-made-up.tumblr.com

#nuclear weapons #atomic bomb #hydrogen bomb #global thermonuclear war #would you like to play a game #unreality

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bloodyknucklesforme · 8 months ago

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Pomegranate | Nikolai x F!reader

Chapter 1

After a series of misfortunes you've found yourself in debt to Arno, a human trafficker operating in London. You work at his club, dancing and escorting, only to find yourself deeper and deeper in debt. One night you arrive at Nikolai's. He's handsome, abrasive, gross, tender at times and he might be the most dangerous man you've ever met.

cw: cw: dark fic, dubcon/noncon, reader is being trafficked, human trafficking, cockwarming, body inspection, piv, Nikolai is evil but also kind in his own weird way

Masterpost

"Clothes off... all of them," A thick Russian accent said from the intercom. You looked up at the camera in the corner. He must have seen you hesitate, "I already paid. Don't waste my money."

It never got easier. The degradation and humiliation of stripping for strange men, being used like a toy and forced to pack yourself back up into your box till next time. It'd been almost a year now. As you dropped your coat to the floor your anger and shame hit the ceiling. You'd trusted your ex, he promised to help you when you lost your job, when you couldn't pay rent, when you needed to borrow money. You moved to London for better opportunities now you were in some stranger's house waiting to be used. You'd lost track of how deep in debt you were to him and his 'friends'. 10k? 20k? It made your stomach clench.

"Don't cry. You'll fuck up your makeup." is what those cunts back at the club would always say before you got in the car to a client's.

Marcus, your ex, now trafficker, hammered it in that this was a very important client. Probably another criminal. A rich one at that. His house was more of a warehouse. Large, stretching for almost an entire block. Nondescript from the outside beyond the vault like door and fancy keypad, one you were given a code to on the way there.

"Turn around," he ordered when the last of your clothes hit the floor. Checking for a wire or weapons you guessed. Knowing you were being watched like this made your skin crawl but it was better than being groped immediately on entry.

The room you were locked in was more of a safe room with steel walls and thick doors. One leading outside and the other leading further inside. No windows, just the camera, an intercom panel and a white gift box that sat on the floor.

"New clothes in the box. Put them on."

It was a too small lacy bra and matching too small panties. A washed baby blue, all mesh so you were fully exposed. There was a loud buzzer and the door unlocked.

Inside was nice. Made to look like a palace. Wood floors covered in large red patterned rugs. The walls had large paintings you recognized from an art history class years ago. You couldn’t tell if they were real or not. The details were obscured by the darkness. There was only one light on in the hallway, a door was opened down the way. It was a maw that beckoned you toward it.

You stood at the threshold. The living room was equally extravagant. The walls were painted a wine red lacquer, almost mirror like. The ceiling had complex molding, painted the same color as the walls. The windows were all blacked out with heavy velvet curtains. It felt cold in this room. To the left was a large bar with more bottles than you'd ever seen in your life. To the right was a large couch and projector screen. Soviet era antiques were scattered about. It felt more like a palace than a home. A palace for some dark god, one that ruled pain and death.

"You're prettier than the photo." You jumped at the voice. He was so quiet you didn't notice him on the couch. He was big, obviously tall but muscular with wide shoulders. He had a layer of fat that only worked to increase his intimidating stature. Dark hair slicked back with a widow's peak. Stubble covered the bottom part of an aged face. He wasn't old, older yes but whatever business he was in had aged him around the eyes. Dark eyes that hid any emotion from you.

He snapped his fingers and motioned for you to walk over. He had a cigar in the other hand. The smell filled the room.

"Good. You follow instructions. More than I can say for the last one Arno sent me." He motioned for you to spin around again, giving your ass a light spank and laughing when you yelped. "You fuck anyone else today?"

"No," you shook your head. He blew cigar smoke at you, watching the silver bisect around your middle.

"Good. I'd hate to waste more time cleaning you out. They never do a good job at that." He put his cigar in the ashtray beside him. "On your knees."

"What's your name?" He asked, making space between his legs for you. You answered softly, a lie. Never give them anything was what another girl told you. Give anything and they’ll take until there’s nothing left. Even your bones could be used to pick teeth. He held your chin between two fingers, moving your head around like a doll. "Open your mouth."

He leaned forward, looking inside you. A thumb hooked over your bottom row of teeth. It tasted like tobacco and sweat. You'd learned to hold back gags long ago.

"I don't like girls with rotten teeth." He ran a finger over your teeth, top and bottom, occasionally pressing on one. He frowned, "Stop shaking. I'm not going to hurt you."

A lie, most likely. Men always said that before fucking you, like they could believe you were there willingly, like they didn't pick you out of a catalogue of girls. You clenched your fists in your lap and willed the fear out of your bones. Docile thing, something to be eaten to the core. You were always good. Arno controlled his girls with an iron hand. You’d heard the beatings other girls got when they disappointed. There were clients who had girls sent to them yet never returned them. Disappointing girls got sent there. Sacrifices to the gods of gold. Arno always wore gold.

"I like girls who like you." He pulled his fingers out of your mouth and pushed your jaw shut. "I paid to have you till morning. Make it worth it."

He leaned back with a sigh, grabbing a remote and turning on the projector. A hockey game flicked onto the screen, the noise from the stadium coming from speakers you never saw.

"Is there...uh...anything you want me to call you?" Men liked all sorts of names. Daddy, Master, Sir. Rarely creative, often repeated. Some used their real name but not many, no one wants the risk of their whore becoming too mouthy.

He looked down at you, like he already forgot you were there.

"Sir, when you answer my questions. Kolya, when I fuck you." He undid his belt and spread his legs wider. You knew your job. He picked up his cigar again as you undid the zipper on his pants.

He laid a hand on the back of your head, pressing down your hair. "Just keep me warm for now. Don't want to miss anything."

You took a deep breath before taking him into your mouth. He was thick and uncut. Intimidating even half hard. He didn't push as you worked your throat open, slowly bobbing your head. Sometimes men would ply you with liquor, help you to relax a bit more. You wish he had. The mix of salts from precum and skin filled your senses. A hesitant hand moved to rest on his thigh for leverage. He didn't shake you off.

You glanced up at him when you took him to the hilt. Hoping for some sign of approval, not for your ego but the sake of your security. Men in pleasure were less likely to be agitated.

"Good job, Kotenok." He rubbed his knuckles across your cheek, gold rings cooling your skin. He let you rest against his thigh, nose tickled by his dark pubes. Cigar smoke, the drone of the tv and the blood rushing around your head started to calm your nerves. Maybe tonight wouldn't be as awful as you thought.

He thrusted lazily during every commercial break. A hand holding your head steady against his thigh. He chuckled when you gagged. Everything was in Russian so you couldn't follow the game beyond his angry or excited, more so angry, ad libs.

He finally sighed and turned off the tv. He tapped your cheek softly.

"Kotenok, I need you to make me feel better about my team losing."

He made you walk ahead of him, directing you towards his bedroom. His dark eyes dug into your spine. A step below you and still a head taller. This is what a deer feels when the wolf stalks it.

His bedroom was dark, a single lamp sat on the side table. The walls were a lime washed white. The bed was antique, made of carved dark wood. The sheets were white silk with a matching comforter. It was unmade. More paintings lined the walls haphazardly. When you were younger you used to cut pictures from magazines and tape them up to your own bedroom walls. He had seemingly done the same.

You crawled onto the bed, swaying your hips as enticingly as you could manage. A hand wrapped around your ankle and pulled you back to the edge of the bed. You yelped as his hips hit your ass, cock bouncing against your cheeks.

"Remember what I told you, Kotenok?" He pulled your panties down, calloused hands scraping against your thighs. "What to call me?"

"Kolya."

"Good girl." He dragged a hand down your back, knuckles bumping every ridge of your spine. You tried your best not to fidget under his touch, not to let the chill of the air or tickle of his fingers get to you. You heard clothing hit the floor behind you. You stared ahead, picking out one of the paintings to focus on.

A young woman stared back at you, perched in a carriage and dressed in black, a feathered hat on her head. She looked upset, like you were unworthy of looking at her and you should avoid your gaze.

Two fingers felt around your entrance. A shiver ran down your spine. You weren't wet enough, you knew that. You clung to the comforter, waiting for pain.

"I told you to stop shaking. I said I wouldn't hurt you." He rubbed a hand across your ass. He sounded annoyed. You closed your eyes and pressed your face against the silk. It smelled clean and floral.

There was the snap of plastic and cold fingers prodding at your cunt.

"Shhh...I don't break the things I buy." He didn't admonish you for hiding your face as he scissored you open. He was almost tender, rubbing your hip with slow circles. His fingers curved to press against that soft spot inside you, pulling soft whines from you. "There we go, Kotenok."

You were pulled back again till your pelvis was hanging off the edge of the bed, toes curling around the plush of the rug. He ran the head of his cock between your folds, nudging at your entrance. He pushed in slowly, groaning loudly as you whimpered and fidgeted. Despite the preparation it was a stretch and burn. He held you down by your hips.

"Good girl," he purred with one last push. The head of his cock bumped against your cervix , causing you to clench in pain. It only spurred him to start thrusting. Your face dragged against the sheets as he rocked your entire body. His thrusts were hard and deep, like he wanted to mark the inside of you.

"Close your eyes and let it happen. Most of them don't last long anyways," a girl said to you early on. You didn't remember her name or face anymore.

You forced out moans every time his hips smacked against your ass. Arching your back so he could think he was pleasuring you. There was a modicum of pleasure, chasing it was too much effort, especially with unreceptive partners.

He wrapped an arm around your waist, hand dipping between your thighs. He pinched your clit till you cried out. His chin tucked against your shoulder, pushing his full weight against you. His body was hot and the thick hair on his chest scratched at your skin.

"I don't like liars, Kotenok." He rubbed harsh circles till you moaned and shuddered. He hissed, "Cum on my cock or be quiet."

His other hand grabbed your shoulder and hauled you back up with him. Your back still pressed against his chest. Still rubbing your clit, he hooked an arm under yours and rested it between your breasts while holding your chin and forcing you to look upwards. There was a mirror on the ceiling. He smirked at you in the reflection. You dug your nails into your thighs, tears springing up in your eyes. It was horrific and erotic and disgusting and ugly and it made you wet. Some last threads of dignity snapping under the image of him fucking you.

"Say my name," He panted.

"Kolya...please...Kolya."

"Want to come on my cock? Beg me for it." He licked your ear.

"Kolya please...please Kolya. I want to come. Please. Kolyaaaaa!"

You watched yourself as he forced you up to your peak, clenching around his cock. He laughed harshly and smacked your pussy. He held you up as your legs failed to support you any longer. You came hard, grabbing at his arms, manicured nails digging into his muscles. You would have thrashed about if he hadn’t had such a tight grip on you.

He growled something in Russian before biting down on your shoulder. He filled you to the brim, his cock twitching inside your still clenching pussy. His cum was a familiar warm that leaked out around his cock and down your leg. He let go and you fell face forward against the bed.

"Catch your breath. I still want my money's worth." He patted the back of your thigh. You hiccuped softly as you regained sense. Limbs feeling heavy, your whole body stretched to its limit.

You turned your head as he sat down a carafe of water and two glasses on the side table.

“Need any?” He asked, filling his own glass. You nodded shyly. It was the first time you really saw him naked. He had a litany of tattoos across his chest and arms, too dark to make out details but you could see angels, skulls, cyrillic writing, a fighter jet, the virgin mary and a star on each of his knee caps. Near his groin was a pentagon with letters you couldn’t make out. A gold chain with an Orthodox cross hung around his neck. A layer of black body hair covered him, darkening everything even further.

“Thank you.” You gulped down your glass, water dribbling down your chin. He wiped it away as he took your glass.

“On your hands and knees now,” He said, pushing back his hair. You faced the woman again, glaring back at her as you presented yourself to him. The mattress dipped behind you. He said something in Russian before pushing back inside you.

You lost count of how many times he fucked you. You were pliant and submissive, following his lead as he bent you into whatever position he wanted. He was more virile than you expected. More gentle than you anticipated with a grossness you expected. The next time you asked for water he spit his glass into your mouth. He pinched and pulled but never bent you so hard you broke. Gagging, crying and cumming but never sobbing or screaming.

You woke up sore. Dried cum and bite marks covering your body. He was sitting in an armchair in the corner, watching you sleep. He was already showered and dressed in a silk robe.

"You’ll shower before you leave. Scrub well." He slapped your ass before shutting the bathroom door and locking it from the outside.

Another extravagant room. Oxblood tiles and heated floors. A large marble counter and a mirror taking up most of the wall behind it.

It was a large shower but more importantly the water was hot. Not warm but hot. You could have cum just from feeling the jets against your skin. The body wash was luxurious - sweet and woody. You scrubbed well. These kinds of men didn't want their DNA wandering all over the place.

There was a towel left for you but no clothes and your lingerie from last night was missing as well. He did leave a cup of tea for you on the bedside table. There were painkillers too. You took it all in one scalding gulp.

You kept the towel wrapped around yourself as you walked back downstairs. You found him through the one open door in the hall. He was sitting at the dining table, typing on a laptop, cup of espresso cooling next to him.

"Come here, Kotenok." He tugged your towel till it fell to the floor. He tapped the inside of your thigh till you spread them. "Don't start shaking again. Need to make sure you cleaned up well."

You bit your lip. He spread you open with two fingers, tilting his head as he inspected you. You yelped when he forced a dry finger inside you, moving it around and dragging it against your walls. He pulled it out and stared at his finger for a moment before sticking in his mouth.

"Good girl." He nodded and got a money clip from his pocket. "I like you. I'll see you again in a week."

He handed you five hundred pounds. You stared at King Charles in disbelief. You'd been tipped before but never this much. You would have to hide it. You didn’t know where but you had to. If he kept tipping you like this it could make a dent in your debt to Marcus and Arno.

"Thank you, sir."

"Did I ask you a question?" He didn't look away from his computer.

"No...umm...Thank you, Kolya." An offering of affection, appease the god and receive bountiful gifts.

The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile. An actual smile.

"If Arno takes that from you, tell me. That's your money. I paid him enough as is. Now go get dressed. Your car is here." He pointed back towards the front door.

You hurried off, afraid to go back to Marcus and Arno but also too scared of what Kolya would do if you delayed.

Here is the rewritten part 1! Part 2 will go up in the next few days. If you have any questions, comments, thirst messages about this fic please send them. I love talking about Nikolai and his Kotenok.

#nikolai x reader #nikolai x f!reader #nikolai cod #dark fic #my writing #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #cod modern warfare #cod #cod mw2 #cod mwii #pomegranate #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty x reader

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angel-of-the-moons · 11 months ago

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Marc x reader smut where reader is down in the dumps and is getting insecure of not being good enough (compared to Layla) and hates that but can’t help it so Marc figures this out and fucks the insecurity outta reader?

More Than Enough

Marc Spector x Fem!Reader (Implied Steven/Jake x Reader)

TW/CW: NSFW, Smut, Feelings of inadequacy, unprotected PiV, Mirror Sex, Praise, Mostly-clothed sex, Marc has a few of his own issues and is not a licensed psychologist

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: I am so sorry this has been sitting in my ask box for so goddamn long, enjoy the word vomit aksbldbldbld

You knew it was a stupid thing to worry about, your insecurity. You felt... sub-par.

Compared to other people, compared to other women, compared to... her.

You could tell they had something special at one point, something almost-unbreakable. But then the issue with Steven realizing who he was, hunting Harrow, fighting Ammit, finding out Marc was there when her father was murdered... Jake goddamn Lockley...

Layla el Faouly was, honestly, a head-turner. She was funny, smart, beautiful and had a way of getting people to open up to her.

Even you, to a point. But you still felt inadequacy, even a bit of envy when it came to Layla. She was with Marc for so long--hell they had been married!

You couldn't keep lying to yourself, and you couldn't keep lying to them. So... You came clean. And the look Marc gave you made you wilt.

It was even worse because he was silent. You couldn't bear to be under his scrutiny so you turned around and wrapped your arms around yourself, staring into the floor-length mirror with a mixture of shame and embarrassment.

Your eyes darted towards Marc's reflection. At first, you thought he was looking at you; but then you realized he was having a mental conversation with Steven and Jake about the situation. You wished you could be privy to those conversations, worrying about any possible arguments that may be waging behind his eyes.

Your shoulders drop and you sigh, eyes closing. "Just--forget I said anything? Please, I'm sorry that I..."

Your eyes open and you instinctively gasp--Marc was standing right behind you, his dark and stormy eyes locking with that of your reflection's. "M-Marc--"

"You fuckin' kidding me, doll?" Marc asked you, frowning. The tone of his voice alone made you wince.

"I--I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..." You try.

"Damn right you shouldn't have."

You squeeze your eyes shut once more, hating yourself as that stone of regret pings around in your belly.

That is, until he growled, hands bunching your shirt at your waist, yanking you against him, his lips barely curling into a snarl at your ear, "Cause that's my girlfriend you're fucking talking about."

You shiver, a small gasp coming from you as Marc's mouth was on your throat; licking, kissing, mouthing away at your skin, making goosebumps prickle across your body.

His mouth comes to a halt for a split second, his eyes focusing on his reflection once more; "...Right. Our girlfriend."

He takes a small bit of your skin between his teeth and nips; "And we know for a fact that our girlfriend isn't doubting for a single fucking second if she's "good enough" for us."

"I... I just..." You babble as his grip goes white-knuckled in your shirt.

You gasp loudly when he grips just a fraction tighter and rips your shirt open, the buttons flying in different directions in the room, skittering across the floor to be hidden until Steven's next "cleaning day" spree.

"M-Marc! My shirt--"

"Is hidin' you. Gotta show you what you're blind to, baby." He muttered against your skin, his hands spreading over your belly, one going up to pluck at the bra you wore. It wasn't fancy or sexy by any means. Just one of those stretchy, mesh, wire-free ones you opted to wear when you didn't want your skin irritated by the wires and elastics fo your typical ones.

"Wearing Steven's favorite one, today." Marc hisses in your ear, groping at one of your breasts through the fabric, running his thumb over the bump of your nipple as your heart begins to pound.

"I... I didn't--"

"Wanna know why he likes it?" Marc asked, biting onto your earlobe, grabbing the loops of your jeans to tug you against him; allowing him to grind the growing bulge of his cock against the curve of your ass.

One of his fingers pluck the stretchy fabric, letting it go to ever so slightly smack against your skin; "Because it don't fucking hurt you. Because, it looks way more natural--way more comfortable."

He chuckles warmly, a soft smile playing on his lips, "That, and the way that they bounce more in this bra than the others tends to distract him, too. Makes these," His index finger swirles over the bump of your nipple once more. "way more visible."

Shame and the heat of your self-esteem make your cheeks flush, and you look away. Marc frowned stubbornly, "Baby..."

"Marc, I don't think that I'm..."

He growled again, the typical sound that came from him when he was frustrated. He'd never used it on you, before; so the sound made a thrill run down your spine.

He shoves his hand from your bra to the front of your pants, yanking the button open and pulling your fly down. He hastily shoved the denim down your thighs, revealing your soft, lacy panties.

They were a dark gray color, with bits of green and red--vines and roses across the lace. They left very little to the imagination, but they were so soft sometimes you'd forget you were wearing any at all.

"Damn, baby... wearin' Jake's favorite, too?" He grinned against the skin of your shoulder, staring down your reflection with the hardened gaze of a soldier sighting down his target.

His rough and calloused hand stroked over the fabric, his fingers dipping low to tease the seam of your panties, feeling a damp spot that was slowly spreading. It never failed; you were light a string in a guitar, waiting to be plucked so the most melodious of tunes would come from your weet lips.

Marc continued to stroke your damp panties for a moment, humming against your soft skin. "Wanna know what the favorite thing that you're wearin'?"

"Wh-what?" You breathe.

Marc withdrew his hand and gently encapsulated your fragile wrist in his fingers, holding your left hand up, where a gold ring was snugly fit around your ring finger; "This. This here means that you're mine. That you're ours. So don't you think for a minute that you're second-best, that you're not good enough for us."

In that moment, you felt stupid all over again. How could you forget? The weight of the ring felt so obvious to you, now. Marc's fingers caress the cool metal, smiling in a gentle way at your hand.

"Baby, you gotta understand... You're right."

Your heart thudded against the delicate cage of your ribs as he let that sentence hang in the air, keeping you in suspense.

"You're not Layla. You're nothin' like her." He continued, "You're you. You're funny, you're soft-spoken, you have a habit of always finding animals to play with and pet when we go out... And that little giggle-snort you do when you laugh so hard you're outta breath? All. You. We fucking love every single goddamn piece of you, baby. So... Please stop comparing yourself to Layla... If you keep doing that, you'll just tear yourself up inside until you're all hollow. Believe me, I did it so much that... well, you know what happened."

He brings your hand up and kisses your knuckles, "And we can't have you falling apart on us... you're the closest thing we have to normal... we need you."

Your heart squeezed in your chest and you sniffled, feeling tears well up in your eyes as your lip wobbled. Lingering feelings of doubt still clung to your subconscious, even in the face of all of Marc's affirmations, "But... but I don't feel like I'm good enough, Marc... Sometimes... sometimes I just feel so useless, and..."

Marc grunts, the sound coming from his nose in a hefty exhale as he drops your hand. "Alright... Maybe you need a little extra convincing."

You almost turn, confused by what he meant, when his hand flattened between your shoulders, shoving you against the mirror so your hands were spread across the reflective glass.

"M-Marc--!"

"Shush, and don't you stop looking at that mirror. Want you to see how fuckin' pretty you are while I fuck you." He murmurs, leaning back to undo his own jeans, hastily shoving the and his boxers down to free his cock, red and throbbing.

His rolled his hips against you, his cock grinding against the soft lace of your panties, smearing a small droplet of precum onto the fabric. Marc lifted his eyes to lock with yours in the mirror.

"Don't look at me, baby. Already told you."

Your breath leaves you in a stutter, your eyes dragging down to look at your own flushed face; your parted lips and torn shirt, your breasts heaving, the soft fabric stretched across them as their soft weight swayed and bounced as Marc maneuvered your body.

He slides your underwear off to the side, gripping the base of his shaft as he slides the tip of his cock through your budding wetness. Your eyes go wide when you feel his tip catch at your entrance, and you barely have a moment to breathe as he slams his hips against you, sinking inside of your body in one fluid thrust.

The stretchy was sudden; the lack of proper preparation left you with a stinging sensation that battled evenly with the pleasure of having his thick cock settle deep inside of you as he pressed against you; the dark hairs at the base of his cock tickled the skin of your ass.

"Baby, you're--fuck." He whined, his brows creasing as a stray curl falls over his forehead as he bows forward, relishing in the moment how good it felt to have your soft, velvety heat wrap and cling around him.

"Shit, honey." Marc sighed after what felt like eons; his hands stroking and gripping the flesh of your ass in his meaty palms. "You're like fuckin' heaven..."

He pulled back once, and slammed back in, making you cry out as the burn and ecstasy once more fight each-other in a bare-handed brawl; making your eyes roll back and flutter closed. God, why did it feel so good?

His mouth was at your ear, his voice tight and strained as he rocked his hips into yours, his cock sliding in and out of you easier and easier as the pleasure began to mount; tickling your spine. "...and I should know, angel..." Marc grunted. "I was in heaven for a little while..."

"Marc..." You whimpered, dropping your head as he began to pound into you, your chest burning with every heavy breath you took as Marc roughly crammed his cock inside of you, pressing hard on every single spot inside that had your head swimming with euphoria.

"Gh--fuck!" Marc barked, grabbing a fistful of your hair (carefully, ind you, he didn't want to hurt you at all) and pulled your head back so he could see your face, "I told you... watch yourself, baby. Don't look away."

You hiccup. Marc was fucking you so roughly from behind that you were almost concerned the pressure you were putting on the mirror would shatter it.

"That's it..." Marc groaned, his eyes rolling back with a blissful sigh as he tipped his head back.

You could see his Adam's apple bob, his jaw tighten as he fucked into you like a rutting dog. His hand lets your hair go and slides down your back, beneath the fabric of your torn shirt to caress the curve and contour of your spine.

Marc's eyes meet yours in the reflection, and his lips quirk up as he gives you another sharp thrust; your voice punching out of you in a breathless cry.

"Baby... do I gotta tell you again?" He sighed, gripping you by the back of your elbows and yanking you upright against him, so your back was pressed against his chest.

You groaned in bliss as you felt him shift inside of you. This position was new... and not unpleasant.

One of his hands curls around you, gripping your chin and jerking your head up, snarling in your ear; "Fuckin' watch, baby."

Your eyes slide down, and between your spread legs, your panties hastily shoved aside... You could see Marc's cock pull out almost to the tip before he slammed his hips up, rutting up into you in another frantic thrust.

"'m gonna show you how fuckin' good you are to us... Even if it means I gotta prove it to you all night long."

He slammed into you once more, his lips curling against your ear as he watches himself disappear inside of you.

"Even if Steven and Jake gotta take over after. I'm done with you."

#🌙 answered #marc spector #moon knight #steven grant #jake lockley #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #marc spector x you

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dashi-inu · 2 months ago

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‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹ soundwave from transformers ⋆｡₊˚♬ ﾟ.

i never thought in my life i would redesign a mecha of all beings, but my stupidity got me here ... not knowing when to quit. i drool over his canon design in prime (and all iterations for that matter) but i decided to alter it for 1. me to understand and 2. fanservice; i just really want to draw sexy things with a sexy character u /// u

transformers are very sexy play-doh's and i wanted to have fun making a headcanon-based iteration of soundwave so here's some story and details about my little music player 🎵

soundwave is a foreign transformer! not from cybertron, but from a distant land whose inhabitants value music and dance in their culture. unfortunately, his spark was stolen from birth from his native planet by a quintesson scientist who placed soundwave's spark in a preset protoform. (cyberverse's scientist character was SO obsessed with soundwave i thought was too hot and interesting to ignore)

soundwave's spark still took on its natural form it was intended from the start, but had a trait only seen in quintesson species, the tentacles.

soundwave came to life beside another, the triple changer named blitzwing under the same scientist. (tfa blitzwing had multiple faces that made him quintesson-coded to me and my sibling @crow-cello)

though blitzwing was made to protect the judge, the innocent mistake of soundwave being the first entity he sees with his very eyes made blitzwing feel beholden to protect this mechanical beauty. it was love at first sight, but this part of the story does not end in happily ever after.

soundwave is then rescued by his native species, from who he was stolen from, no longer belonging to the scientist, yet, separated from blitzwing. while heartbroken that they are kept apart, soundwave got in touch with his roots, being taught that love comes back to someone through song.

indulging in his birthright as a music player, soundwave did not suspect that he was a rarity across this universe. he was seen as an exotic treasure to higher beings, sentinel prime's high council in cybertronian. the idea of owning a music box of their own was too tantalizing to resist.

soundwave felt like a prisoner in his own life, being kidnapped but never belonging for too long. when he was stolen by cybertronian soldiers for their high council, soundwave endured their perversion, becoming their indulgence than his own being as he was what they wanted him to be, their little music player.

until one sacred day, he saw a certain gladiator in the arena and was saved by his words ... d-16 was an underdog fighter, prized by the high council for his victories and in the same leaf, despised for his active voice against oppression. soundwave would sneak out of the confines of his many masters to learn and experience life with d-16. when he promised soundwave for a better world for robots like them, soundwave gained the strength and courage to dismantle the ones who only saw him as a trophy.

without d-16, he wouldn't have gained his freedom. soundwave believed that all those days singing his lovesong brought d-16 to him. thereafter, soundwave vowed to be megatron's most loyal right-hand, indebted to only serve him. what he did not imagine was that megatron would save blitzwing too.

now for some quick facts:

soundwave is a music box! 🎶 his heart-shaped plate is where he keeps his Cassetticons. (his babies)

stands on his tip-toes to portray his dancer side~ 🩰 very swift, flowy, and agile in dance. moves gracefully in battle.

as a mecha character, soundwave is comfortable in his nudity. (save for intimate parts.) heart-shaped plate is see-through and his glowing wires are the equivalent of body art/tattoos ❤️ canonly wears the least amount of armor in prime and showcases the most mesh. i believe as a stylistic choice-

#my art #transformers #transformers prime #transformers soundwave #soundwave #i've .... done a lot of work here guys ... im very happy and relieved i got a piece of my mind out there :')#i know there is canon. but sometimes theres just too much going on with it or so much inconsistencies #that i needed to simplify (sexify) the story #i couldn't have done it without my bestie crowcello <3 #for lack of better words #they dribbled the ball all over the court past all the players and i just shot it in the hoop if im honest #sorry if this feel incomplete: soundwave comes as a set with blitzwing which is the character my buddy is working with. i worked with sound #tfp #tfp soundwave #maccadam #transformers art

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fruitzapple · 2 months ago

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Answer to an ask I accidentally deleted

:"D idk remeber the user of the person who asked this but they asked something like,

"the mailbox you made is made of separate boxes but the bird you made looks like it's one mesh could you explain your process with the bird model and show off it's wire frame?"

Thank you so much for the ask! Sorry it took me a while to respond but I hope this is still helpful! The bird is actually split up into a ton of different parts just like the mailbox these ones are just a bit less square

I think the most difficult part of this project was the uvs. Making the pixels look constant was definitely a challenge for certain body parts. I didn't take the time to merge all my uvs so I have like 5 separate textures for this one model which is probably really silly but I'm not gonna put it in a game or anything so I didn't bother. thinking about it like a minecraft skin really helped me with get it right haha but that might not help everyone.

for the pixel art gradients I used a method I figured out a while ago that is really easy. I shade on an image size about 4x the size of my pixel art and use a screen tone effect on those shading layers I then rasterize the effect and resize it back to my pixel art size, using different big image sizes, screen tone sizes/shapes, and the resize style will change the look of the funky gradient it's a bit of trail and error but when you get it right it's so fun.

#artists on tumblr #3d art #3d modeling #3d blender #behind the scenes #3d tips #pixel art #pixel art tips #my art #my 3d art

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tactical-jellyfish · 19 days ago

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Injuries (drabble)

Warnings!: Injury described, canon-typical violence (you know, like war). Nightmare. Comfort. Off-screen kiss on the cheek. Swearing. [~2.2 k words]

Beneath your haunches, the ground is trembling with the force of the cracking bullets in the air, vibrations blasted through tainted oxygen so hard that they infect cracked concrete and really test your hearing protection.

The firefight is one of the nastiest you've seen yet. A concerning amount of the fire you hear is decidedly not cover fire, cracking off the (former) concrete pillar and it's collapsed sibling that are turning out to be nearly-perfect cover, even if there's more rebar and mesh than you would like.

Your comms are trying, poor things, but there's little to be done, and you know it when Gaz's voice cuts as he tries to relay orders to you. Or, hell, maybe they were orders, you couldn't hear shit through the static either way

Boot soles grit against sandy concrete as you try to bite out a return message. Position compromised, you try, but the words don't leave when you see what looks like a medium-sized stone tossed over your barrier.

"Fuck!"

You try to run, but the comm's wire (and with it, your hearing protection) is snagged, pulled out by a burr of rebar breaking through the pillar's surface, tangled hopelessly in the mesh.

There's no time, and still, you try.

Always assume that a grenade tossed at you has two seconds or less till it does its best to turn you into red mist.

You had forgot.

And still, the blast is never quite as small as you think.

There is no pain in the immediate seconds after, and you silently thank deaf ears in the heavens for adrenaline, until you spot a movement a few meters away, peeking out from a corner.

It's automatic. Your rifle bends to your wills, a machine that is operated by an equally robotic entity. One of blood and one of metal. The way real warfare has been for thousands of years.

A body hits the floor, but you don't hear it, you see red painting the forehead, leaking through a too-weak helmet. You hide behind the more upright of the pillars, before watching another assailant burst from the corner, shoulders shaking as they grab their dispatched colleague by the shoulders, shaking them helplessly as though to will life back into their body.

Once more, you take a shot, and there is no miss.

It's a somber thing, but there is no time to offer condolences or sympathies, not when the broken box of your comms finally figures something out and flashes a yellow pinprick for you.

Evacuate ASAFP. You May Or May Not Be Important Enough To Wait For.

A twinge hits your arm as you lower it, and a wet warmth floods the area, but there's little time for that now. Having a chunk of grenade in your arm is preferable to being dead, by far.

Running has always been good for you.

You've never liked to sit still, not at work. The movement is what prompts the blood in your veins to pump, your heart to follow with hummingbird-fast beats. The burn in your lungs, it's what makes you real.

But, at the same time, the ache in your arm has taken time to grow as it stains your uniform with a deep red, forcing a sharp pain up your nerves and into your brainstem with every thump of your boots against the cracking ground.

You switch your rifle to your non-dominant hand, but it does little once the high of adrenaline starts to fade, and your foot also starts screeching its protest, weakening with each forced stride, no matter how much you push forward.

The helicopter is already raring to take off, and you try to shout out to your team, but you can't hear yourself.

Your foot hits the floor one last time, and flash of agony is so intense that it forces what should be another cry from you, but once more, no noise hits your ears.

Knees buckle, fabric is scraped off with skin in tow, and your damaged body lays heavy on the ground.

Another boot appears in your peripheral, and you try to look up.

Just before the face comes into focus, a particularly nasty gush of blood leaves the wound in your arm, and takes your vision with it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The floor beneath you is inky black, and cold.

A boot thuds down right before your face, and Price's face comes into focus, bristly bearded and bristling with rage.

His voice booms from seemingly everywhere around you, like you've been plugged into a surround-sound system made in hell.

"Rookie, whot the hell were you thinking, going in like that? You knew your coffin'd be empty if you died, right?"

It's so loud your ears are already starting to ache, the noise piercing every fiber of your being and rocking your cells with the vibrations, tearing your muscles apart from the inside.

A sharp sting spreads through your foot, but your neck refuses to allow you to look as muscles lock up, and another face steals away your attention, even as the pressure mounts.

"Ah, Cap, they're green. Might well bury'em alive. Sae's the time, aye?"

Soap's face is different. Low-sitting eyebrows pinched down, but a wicked smile present on thin lips, practically reveling as the floor seems to swallow you whole.

You know the laughter you hear, but it brings no comfort when you see Gaz cackling next to the Scot.

God, he looks so pretty when he laughs, and it does nothing but twist the knife when you watch him lean against Soap, before looking down at you.

"It's alright, luv. Some people just... don't make the cut. Way of the world, innit?"

The comfort is false, you know it is, but your damaged heart takes it anyway, to somehow make believe that it's not your fault, that you had just aimed too high.

When Ghost appears, there's no more defense you can give yourself.

As usual, the only thing you can see is his eyes. Light brown like mud that's just about to crack, honeyed when the light hits just right.

He says nothing, but he turns away, and some part of you can't allow that, even as the room starts to pivot on some axis you can't see.

You try to reach forward, to plead, but your voice doesn't work, and your legs are stuck, sinking into the black with no foreseeable way out, rotating faster and faster, a bug spiraling down into the drain.

A grating, long BEEEEEEEEEP floods the space around you first, painfully high-pitched and absolutely unbearable because it seems to match exactly with the ringing flooding into your ears.

You're certain that there are a few specific parts of your body that ache, but in the haze of painkillers, it's a simple dullness.

That being, until hands are on your shoulders.

Price stands above you, brows pulled down in worry, lips tuned in a stiff frown, and he speaks.

"------! - ------- --- ---- ----! --- ---- –"

He pauses when he watches you fail to acknowledge what he's saying, staring up at him with a pinch in your brow, eyes calculating as always, but now trying to put together what he's saying.

"-- --. ---, ---- -------! ----'-- --- -----."

Price's head follows a movement you only catch the tail end of. A body leaves the door, walking quickly, but there's no squeak of boots on linoleum.

His hand is under your chin, then, gently guiding you to look back up at him, baby blue eyes full of sympathy, a fatherly sort of concern that looks oddly welcome on his weathered face.

Price is slow to move, making sure you watch as he gently takes the plastic cup from the crappy nightstand beside the stiff bed your body lays on, taking a mock sip himself before holding it out to you.

Something is wrong, but you reach out a lead-heavy arm anyway.

It doesn't work very well, but thankfully Price catches it before it can spill.

It's humiliating, sure, but you still sip when the plastic rim kisses your parched lips.

You don't look, but if you had, you would see John smiling, reassured, ever so slightly, that you'd be alright. Not quite the v-shape you had come to know, but close enough.

You smile back, in turn. Weakly, but you do.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Soap spends a good deal of time in your room, in the first few days.

It's like he refuses to let hospital food actually be eaten by you, with how he keeps on bringing over his leftovers and heating them up in the microwave down the hall for you.

The first time, it's soup. Then, a stew, a little thicker, with some bread, which is followed by a simple sandwich.

But that's not all. He's joking with you the whole time, smiling as you come back into being a person again.

Yet another day, and the door opens.

The trial hearing aid planted in your ear does little to muffle the ringing that has become characteristic since your injury, but when the hinges squeak, your tired head snaps over to the Scot in your doorway.

"Fuck. Simmer down some, hen o' mine. Don't stare at me like that. I got ye sumthin'."

Your curiosity is met with a chuckle, and a small, wrapped package being set into your lap. After a few seconds of stillness, he gently prods you to open it.

A book of sudoku, crossword, and other puzzles. "To pass the time," Johnny says fondly. "Gotta keep the brain sharp, I'm sure."

He's sat beside your bed, and for once, you dare to do something new. You reach for his shoulder with an arm, and pull him into yourself.

That's the first time you have the balls to hug someone you work with.

He hugs you back.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The diagnosis is only half shocking.

To you, that is still much too shocking to be comfortable, but Gaz, by your side, is much more active than you, in the discussion.

"Nerve damage? To what, specifically?"

"They can recover, right?"

"Would you recommend surgery or physical therapy? Both?"

"What's the timeline before they can have a re-evaluation for service?"

John had insisted that someone went along with you, and the Lieutenant was out training with Soap. So, that left Gaz.

He's a very good patient advocate, really, and at some point, you start looking at him in his seat beside you instead of paying all your attention to the doctor.

The white light is the pure opposite of flattering, but he manages to look good because of course he does, he's Gaz.

Brown eyes suddenly snap over to you, and his lips turn down slightly in concern before a warm hand gently settles on your shoulder, jostling you just enough to call you back to reality.

"What? What's- is something wrong, Garrick?"

Your voice is a little rougher than usual, not properly pitched as per usual, but enough.

He sighs lightly, but starts to smile softly when he does.

"Your hearing aids are in, right luv?"

"Y- I- I think so?"

"Ringing or no ringing?"

"It's- mate, it's not supposed to go away for a few weeks, I don't think."

Your voice is a bit more practiced, that time. Better.

The doctor, across the desk, pauses in her scribbling on the notepad (you're sure they think they're writing something, but there is no way that those are words), and looks up at you.

"Dead right. I'm glad you're well-read on your condition."

Her voice rings out once, and in the quiet, an alarm rings.

"Shit. I am so sorry, we're running over and I need to get to my next appointment. I'll see the pair of you again in a week, alright?"

You nod, but Gaz, on your side, seems just a bit ticked by the ordeal, but he takes you with him, already whisking you off into the café to get you some actual food.

And hell, if you kiss him on the cheek when he drops you back off at your room for the night, that's alright. Your little secret.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I swear to God, I'm gonna fucking kill you, Lieutenant."

Your punches hit the bag repeatedly as your words bite from your lips, sweat-coated and annoyed.

"Not until you hit your previous times, sergeant."

Ghost, bastard he is, is training you again.

Sure, you're out of physical therapy now, and sure, you do want to train, but he's just such a bastard about it.

A particularly hard swing is where you focus that annoyance, and the bag very nearly comes back for your face.

He stops rocking on his heels, and the relative silence is soon broken.

"Good for the day."

He declares, and you look back up from the red, padded synthetic leather, brows furrowed.

"What?"

"You wanted to be done for the day, right? You're done."

You stand, confused and maybe a bit upset, hands still wrapped up tight.

"No, I want to earn being done for the day. I was annoyed with you. Those are different."

There is a shift of the fabric of the mask you see, indicative of some sort of real facial expression.

"You're going to do just fine, rook."

His voice is warmer, this time.

#x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #tf 141 x reader #x gn reader #hurt/comfort #fluff #john price #john price x reader #injury

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sundays-sims · 2 years ago

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S A N D S T O N E / / C L U T T E R - A D D O N S . (early access, patreon)

As promised, here's the second part of my sandstone set featuring clutter & deco. This set focuses on smaller objects to personalize & add the final touch to your interior. It includes 15 new meshes, mostly smaller decorative objects & clutter but you will also find a functional pet bed (needs Cats & Dogs expansion pack), an oak coffee table & a functional candle.

↓ details & download link under the cut ↓

D O W N L O A D L I N K : [X] (patreon, early access)

S E T D E T A I L S :

oak coffee table

book cradle

open book (for book cradle)

magazine stack (for book cradle)

candles

candle wick trimmer

candle extinguisher

small & large linen box

marble tray

marble vase

small branch/plant

pet bed

bowl

deco metal wire balls (for bowl)

I hope you enjoy you guys!

Lastly, I want to wish you all the best holiday season, love, health & happiness! Thank you again so much for your support, always. I am forever grateful. ♥

→ terms of use / TOU ← / / → instagram ←

#ts4 #simblr #ts4cc #sims 4 cc #sims 4 interior #sims 4 #sims 4 inspo #sims 4 cc finds #sims4 #sims 4 cc download

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yuelaingabion · 3 months ago

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How Can a Gabion Wire Mesh Box Revolutionize Your Next Project?

When it comes to tackling tough engineering and landscaping tasks, innovation is the name of the game. Enter the gabion wire mesh box —a simple yet brilliant solution that’s transforming how we handle erosion, unstable terrain, and structural needs. In a world where projects demand both reliability and sustainability, this versatile tool steps up, offering a way to conquer challenges while keeping the environment in mind.

#Gabion Wire Mesh Box #Wire Mesh Box #Gabion Wire Mesh

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dolljunk · 9 months ago

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Out of box, the 100th Anniversary retro Licca chan doll feels significantly weightier in hand, which makes sense as her lips are solid vinyl rather than hollow limbs like vintage Licca chan.

It's also amazing how adding hip and shoulder rotation really brings life to a vintage sculpt that couldn't do either, plus a neck tilt is so darling, I can see why Licca fans are doing that so often with their ones.

The dress is made from a medium cotton drill fabric with a custom printed middle panel and almost sheer white piece on top. I have no idea if this is based on a vintage dress from Licca's archive but it definitely feels like a 1967 dress.

Her mesh socks are odd but they definitely feel like somerhing you'd see on a late 60s doll, and something that wouldn't have survived to this day so it's fun in that regard.

I also adore how they approached doing her hair bows this time around as theyre on miniature clear plastic combs that tuck into the hair. The last time they tried to do this accessory they used wire bobby pins that looked out of scale and stuck out weirdly on the head so this feels much more display worthy and significantly more dainty.

As someone who can't afford the lavish prices a vintage Licca chan fetches, I think this reproduction really knocks it out of the ballpark.

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arthuntblog · 2 months ago

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Christian Boltanski (1944-2021) [France] - Reliquaire, 1989. Cans, photographs in black and white boxes coated metal wire mesh, electric lamps and son clips, (235 x 95 x 46 cm).

#art #contemporary art #art hunt streak week #Christian Boltanski #conceptual art #installation art #light #sculpture #figurative art

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cityof2morrow · 1 year ago

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NetworkMAT: Streetscaping 001 (Sidewalks & Sewers)

Published: 5-23-2024 | Updated: 7-16-2024 (+hood visibility) SUMMARY “Accentuate the streets, pedestrian paths, and roadsides in your city …” “Rubberall is made from upcycled rubber, metal, and other materials. It's ten and a half times weather resistant as regular rubber and twice a pretty. Order it in bulk today!” “Build a functional water and waste management system in your city…” Another edition to the Network Materials (networkMAT) (Simmons, 2022-2024) series! This modular set includes 80 low poly objects for pedestrian paths, sidewalks, decorative foundations, and other roadside streetscaping. Objects are designed to be used with the Streets of 2morrow (Simmons, 2023) set - but they’ll work without them just fine. There are also matching neon curb lights. How about functional sewer/water management networks?! You also get a canal, tunnel, deco, and functional items for making your own sewer network. The drains will clear the lot of any unattended puddles and garbage every few hours – visible exhaust rises from them during this process. The utility box and pipes earn the lot owner a small credit at each billing cycle – SimCity rewards good infrastructure!

DETAILS Requires all EPs/SPs. §0 and §100-1000 for lights/bollards, §300-1000 for sewer items Build > Architecture/Columns and Buy > Lighting/Plumbing/Electronics > Misc Most objects are repo’d to the BBNiche1Master (BuggyBooz, 2012) and/or Element Repository, which are both in the Repo Pack (Simmons, 2022). Don’t forget to grab some recolors – I recommend the “element” set HERE (Simmons, 2023) for the sewage water/material. See the following tags for more swatches: #co2recolors, #ts2recolors, #ts2repo #co2repo #co2repopack IMPORTANT:

2-click objects are for 2-click/step foundations and foundation pieces are for default foundations/stages. Still – you’ll be able to mix and match in a variety of ways.

You’ll need “move object on/off” and “grid on/off” cheats to place some objects.

Foundation pieces match default foundations/decks which are slightly larger than a 1x1 tile space. They will overlap slightly – so depending on your design, you may want to shift things around with cheats.

Some items are asymmetrical/oversized so they’ll fit better with others in the set and give the paths a bit of a “distressed” look.

The 1x1/2x2 round corners use angled (not rounded) curves; this detail is apparent when you apply solid color txtr’s to them.

Some lights are repo’d to the neon plutonium rod (Nightlife EP) and will use the same light colors.

There is a short tutorial for this set HERE.

ITEMS SIDEWALKS

2-Click Platforms, Planters, and Ramps (12-100 poly) 4-Click Foundations (32-64 poly) Bollards 001-002 (230-262 poly) – Bollard 001 is repo’d to the Plutonium Rod (Nightlife EP) Step Covers (Steps/Ramp) (~18-24 poly) -place with cheats; – center/side pieces work as Rubberall Platform 1x1/2x1 (20 poly) Rubberall Ramp Cover 1x1 (66 poly) Rubberall Corner (Left/Right) (96 poly) Rubberall Curb (14 poly) Just8, 1x1 Transition Curb Left (24 poly) Just8, 1x1 Transition Curb Right (24 poly) Just8, 1x1 Transition Platform (44 poly) Lighting (166-332 poly) Solo, 1x1 Planter (20 poly) Solo, 2x2 Planter (20 poly) Urban Future 4, 1x1 Curb (66 poly) – REQUIRED MESH; includes invisible recolor Other curbs, curves, corner, and accent pieces (6-305 poly) SEWERS 001

Beam (Deco) (44 poly) Beam (Column) (44 poly) Canal (7x9) (140 poly) Pipes 001-003 (1000-1024 poly) Rails (1-Tile/3-Tile) (115-192 poly) Tunnel (7x9) (448 poly) Utility Box (Functional) (266 poly) – earns the lot owner a small credit for each billing cycle. Utility Wires (896 poly) Zogorman Drains (1x1 /3x1) (42-126 poly) K76 Drains (1x1/2x2/Raised) (728-744 poly) DOWNLOAD (choose one) from SFS | from MEGA COMPATIBILITY Compatible with Shiftable Everything (Lamare, 2022) and Object Freedom (Fway, 2023). Shift trees and garden plants into place before adding the planter pieces. CREDITS Thanks: Sim Shenanigans Discord folks, UV Mapping Tips (Frac, 2024). Sources: Beyno (Korn via BBFonts), Dosch SciFi Materials V1.1 (2022; 2009), EA/Maxis; Metal Grate (RBG_illustrations, 2019 via CCA), Modulo_Sewer_01 (Polo_Art, 2022 via Creative Commons Attribution), Modular Sidewalk/Curb Kit (Just8 2022-2023 via CCA), Neon Floor Lamp Add-On (PineappleForest, 2022), Nooks & Niches (Buggybooz, 2012), Offuturistic Infographic (Freepik), Retro Simlish Font/Simlish Manbow Solid (Adele, n.d.), Rubber Traffic Inspirations (Pewex, 2019), Sewer grate (Katy76 via PC Sims, 2007); Sidewalk (Zogorman, 2018 via CCA), Spawn of Square Stair (Khakidoo, 2007;), Textures (CuriousB, HugeLunatic, 2018; Simmons, 2023; 2010; Stonemason, 2011; Klevestav, 2013; 2010; EA/Maxis); Tree Planter w/ Grate (LordSamueliSolo, 2021 via CCA), Urban Future 4 (Stonemason, 2011).

#ts2downloads #ts2cc #sims2cc #co2repo #ts2repo #co2repopack #co2networkmat

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bloodyknucklesforme · 8 months ago

Text

No name (taking suggestions) for this yet but yeah @syoddeye got me into Nikolai so... here's this. It's way longer than I originally planned but here we are. There will be more at some point but my fingers were just itching to write this out rn so unedited as well...

cw: dark fic, dubcon/noncon, reader is being trafficked, human trafficking, cockwarming, body inspection, piv, Nikolai is evil but also kind i guess,

"Clothes off... all of them," A thick Russian accent said from the intercom. You looked up at the camera in the corner. He must of seen you hesitate, "I already paid. Don't waste my money."

It never got easier. It'd been almost a year now. As you dropped your coat to the floor your anger and shame hit the ceiling. You'd trusted your ex, he promised to help you when you lost your job, when you couldn't pay rent, when you needed to borrow money. You moved to London for better opportunities now you were in some stranger's house waiting to be used. You'd lost track of how deep in debt you were to him and his 'friends'. 10k? 20k? It made your stomach clench.

"Don't cry. You'll fuck up your makeup." is what those cunts back at the club would always say before you got in a car to a client's.

Marcus hammered it in that this was a very important client. Probably another criminal. A rich one at that. His house was more of a warehouse with an automatic front door.

The front room was more of a safe room with steel walls and thick doors. No windows, just the camera, an intercom panel and a white gift box.

"New clothes in the box. Put them on."

It was a too small lacy bra and matching too small panties. A washed baby blue, all mesh so you were fully exposed. The door inside clicked. You went inside.

It was nice. Expensive but not tacky like other homes you've been too. The kind of furniture you'd seen in interior design magazines and auctions, solid wood things made by designers with names you could never properly pronounce. There were soviet era antiques scattered about as decor. The first floor was open with a kitchen and dining area to the side and the rest of the room being a living area. There were stairs to the side leading up to where you guessed was the bedroom.

"You're prettier than the photo." You jumped at the voice. He was so quiet you didn't notice him on the couch. He was big, obviously tall but muscular with wide shoulders. Dark hair slicked back with a widow's peak. Stubble covered the bottom part of an aged face. He wasn't old, older yes but whatever business he was in had aged him around the eyes.

He snapped his fingers and motioned for you to walk over. He had a cigar in the other hand.

"No," you shook your head. He blew cigar smoke at you, watching the silver bisect around your middle.

"Good. I'd hate to waste more time cleaning you out. They never do a good job at that." He put his cigar in the ash tray beside him. "On your knees."

"What's your name?" He asked, making space between his legs for you. You answered softly, a lie. Never give them anything was what another girl told you. He held your chin between two fingers, moving your head around like a doll. "Open your mouth."

He leaned forward, looking inside you. A thumb hooked over your bottom row of teeth. It tasted like tobacco and sweat. You'd learned to hold back gags long ago.

"I don't like girls with rotten teeth." He ran a finger over your teeth, top and bottom, occasionally pressing on one. He frowned, "Stop shaking. I'm not going to hurt you."

"I like girls who like you." He pulled his fingers out of your mouth and pushed your jaw shut. "I paid to have you all night. Make it worth it."

He leaned back, grabbing a remote and turning on the tv. A hockey game roared on the tv.

"Is there...uh...anything you want me to call you?"

He looked down at you, like he already forgot you were there.

"Sir, when you answer my questions. Kolya, when I fuck you." He undid his belt and spread his legs wider. You knew your job. He picked up his cigar again as you undid the zipper on his pants.

He laid a hand on the back of your head, pressing down your hair.

"Just keep me warm for now. Don't want to miss anything."

"Good job, Kotenok." He rubbed his knuckles across your cheek. He let you rest against his thigh, nose tickled by his dark pubes. Cigar smoke, the drone of the tv and the blood rushing around your head started to calm your nerves. Maybe tonight wouldn't be as awful as you thought.

He thrusted lazily during every commercial break. Everything was in Russian so you couldn't follow the game beyond his angry or excited, more so angry, ad libs.

He finally sighed and turned off the tv. He tapped your cheek softly.

"Kotenok, I need you to make me feel better about my team losing."

He made you walk ahead of him, directing you towards his bedroom. His dark eyes dug into your spine.

His bedroom was dark. Wine colored walls with thick, velvet blackout curtains covering the windows. The bed was large with silk sheets and a down comforter.

You crawled onto the bed, swaying your hips as enticingly as you could manage. A hand wrapped around your ankle and pulled you to the edge of the bed. You yelped as his hips hit your ass, cock bouncing against your cheeks.

"Remember what I told you, Kotenok?" He pulled your panties down, calloused hands scrapping against your thighs. "What to call me?"

"Kolya."

"Good girl." Two fingers felt around your entrance. A shiver ran down your spine. You weren't wet enough, you knew that. You clung to the comforter, waiting for pain.

The snap of plastic and cold fingers prodding at your cunt.

"Shhh...I don't break the things I buy." He didn't admonish you for hiding your face as he scissored you open. "There we go, Kotenok."

He pushed in slowly, groaning loudly as you whimpered and fidgeted. Despite the preparation it was a stretch and burn. He held you down by your hips.

"Good girl," he purred with one last push. The head of his cock bumped against your crevix , causing you to clench in pain. It only spurred him to start thrusting roughly. Your face dragged against the sheets.

"Close your eyes and let it happen. Most of them don't last long anyways," a girl said to you early on. You didn't remember her name.

He wrapped an arm around your waist, hand dipping between your thighs. He pinched your clit till you cried out.

"I don't like liars, Kotenok." He rubbed harsh circles till you moaned, shuddering hard. "Cum on my cock or shut up."

His other hand grabbed your shoulder and pulled you up. Your back rested against his chest. Still rubbing your clit, he hooked an arm under yours and rested it between your breasts while holding your chin and forcing you to look upwards. There was a mirror on the ceiling.

"Say my name," He barked.

"Kolya...please...Kolya. I..."

"Want to come on my cock? Beg me for it."

"Kolya please...please Kolya. I want to come. Please. Kolyaaaaa!"

You watched yourself as he forced you up to your peak, clenching around his cock. He laughed harshly and smacked your pussy. He held you up as your legs failed to hold you up any longer. You came hard, grabbing at his arms, manicured nails digging into his muscles.

He growled something in Russian before biting down on your shoulder. He filled you to the hilt, his cock twitching inside your still clenching pussy. His cum was a familiar warm. He let go and you fell face forward against the bed.

"Catch your breath. I still want my money's worth."

You lost count of how many times he fucked you. You were pliant and submissive, following his lead as he bent you into whatever position he wanted. He was more virile than you expected.

You woke up sore, dried cum and bite marks covering your body.

"You shower before you leave. Scrub well." He slapped your ass before shutting the door and locking it from the outside.

It was a large shower but more importantly the water was hot. Not warm but hot. You could have cum just from feeling the jets against your skin. The body wash was luxurious - sweet and woody. You scrubbed well. These kind of men didn't want their DNA wandering all over the place.

There was towel left for you but no clothes and your lingerie from last night was missing as well. He did leave a cup of tea for you on the bedside table.

You kept the towel wrapped around yourself as you walked back downstairs. He was sitting at the dining table, typing on a laptop, cup of tea still steaming and full.

"Come here, Kotenok." He tugged your towel till it fell to the floor. He tapped the inside of your thigh till you spread them. "Don't start shaking again."

You bit your lip. He spread you open with two fingers, tilting his head as he inspected you. You yelped when he forced a dry finger inside you, moving it around and dragging it against your walls.

"Good girl." He pulled his hand and away and got a money clip from his pocket. "I like you. I'll ask for you again."

He handed you five hundred pounds. You stared at Charles in disbelief. You'd been tipped before but never this much.

"Thank you, sir."

"Did I ask you a question?" He didn't look away from his computer.

"No...umm...Thank you, Kolya."

The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile.

"If Arno takes that from you, tell me. That's your money. I paid him enough as is. Now go get dressed. Your car is here." He pointed back towards the front door.

You hurried off. For the first time more scared to leave than to stay.

#i will probably rewrite this when I do a full series most likely next year #me to me: it'll be quick #2k words later #nikolai x reader #nikolai x f!reader #nikolai cod #dark fic #my writing #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #cod modern warfare #cod #cod mw2 #cod mwii

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