#security wire mesh

[almiqahardware]

When disasters strike — whether due to natural calamities or humanitarian crises — the need for fast, functional, and reliable infrastructure becomes urgent. Among the many tools in the disaster response toolkit, wire mesh stands out as a versatile, cost-effective solution for building temporary shelters and supporting critical infrastructure.

From stabilizing structures to securing camps, wire mesh delivers strength, adaptability, and ease of deployment. Here’s how it plays a pivotal role in emergency response efforts:

1. Rapid Construction of Temporary Shelters

One of the first priorities in any disaster relief operation is providing safe and temporary housing for displaced populations. Wire mesh — especially welded and woven types — can be quickly paired with lightweight materials to form:

Structural frames for tents or modular homes

Reinforced wall systems using mesh panels and insulating fabric

Secure window and door coverings

Advantages of wire mesh in shelter construction:

Easy to store and transport in rolls or panels

Fast assembly using minimal tools or technical expertise

Corrosion-resistant — ideal for coastal or humid environments

In emergencies requiring concrete structures (e.g., bunkers or field clinics), wire mesh also serves as reinforcement formwork, strengthening quickly-poured floors and walls.

2. Perimeter Security and Protection of Critical Supplies

In post-disaster environments, security is a top concern. Wire mesh is widely used to create:

Perimeter fences around relief camps

Storage cages for food, medicine, and equipment

Barriers for crowd control and access restriction

These systems are crucial to:

Prevent looting or tampering with aid supplies

Protect vulnerable groups, especially women and children

Establish quarantine or isolation areas when needed

Galvanized or PVC-coated mesh ensures long-term durability in outdoor use, while barbed or razor wire can be deployed in high-security zones.

3. Sanitation and Hygiene Infrastructure

Preventing disease outbreaks is critical in disaster zones. Wire mesh supports the quick setup of:

Temporary toilet and shower enclosures

Waste storage units with natural ventilation

Drainage cages and debris filters for water systems

Its open-grid structure promotes airflow and visibility while maintaining privacy and containment — helping to preserve both public health and personal dignity.

4. Temporary Enclosures for Livestock and Animals

In agricultural regions, disaster-affected families often relocate with their livestock. Wire mesh is ideal for building:

Livestock shelters and holding pens

Barriers to separate animal zones from human habitation

Fencing to protect food stores and crops from animal intrusion

This supports livelihood recovery by preserving essential assets like cattle, goats, and poultry — especially for rural and pastoral communities.

5. Debris Management and Hazardous Zone Control

Disasters often leave behind unstable buildings, sharp debris, and hazardous terrain. Wire mesh contributes to:

Securing dangerous zones or collapsed structures

Stabilizing partially fallen walls or ceilings

Creating walkways, ramps, or makeshift bridges

These applications improve safety for rescue workers and offer reassurance to displaced residents navigating unfamiliar and unstable surroundings.

Choosing the Right Wire Mesh for Emergency Use

Not all mesh is created equal — relief planners should evaluate:

Material Strength: Steel or stainless steel for durability and load-bearing applications

Protective Coating: Galvanized or PVC-coated mesh for weather resistance

Mesh Size and Thickness: Fine mesh for sanitation, thicker gauge for structural support

Ease of Deployment: Pre-fabricated panels or flexible rolls for quick setup

Additionally, wire mesh that complies with international safety and building codes ensures performance and reliability during high-stress deployments.

Partnering with Experts for Rapid Response

At Al Miqat Hardware, we provide high-quality, disaster-ready wire mesh solutions tailored to the demands of emergency environments.

✅ Rapid delivery across the UAE and Gulf ✅ Custom mesh products for specific relief needs ✅ Expert consultation and B2B/B2C technical support

📞 Contact our Disaster Relief Response Team today for bulk orders, custom solutions, or urgent delivery requests.

Conclusion: Strength in Simplicity

In disaster zones, every material must be multifunctional — balancing speed, strength, safety, and flexibility. Wire mesh delivers on all fronts, making it an indispensable tool for emergency shelter, infrastructure, and recovery.

From securing aid stations to building safe living spaces, wire mesh helps communities stabilize, rebuild, and recover. As climate change increases the frequency and intensity of natural disasters, planners and relief agencies must invest in solutions that are not only fast but future-proof.

Wire mesh isn’t just a building material — it’s a building block for resilience.

[srjsteel]

Wire Binding: The Essential Guide to Strengthening Construction Projects

Wire Binding Fundamentals

Wire binding techniques have revolutionized modern construction, creating stronger, more reliable structures through precise reinforcement methods. When construction professionals understand how binding wire and construction rings work together, they can significantly enhance structural integrity while improving project efficiency.

Understanding Wire Binding Fundamentals

The relationship between binding wire and construction rings creates the foundation for reliable structural reinforcement. This connection system allows construction teams to secure reinforcement bars, mesh, and other critical components firmly in place during concrete pouring and throughout a structure's lifetime.

Types of Binding Wire

Several varieties of binding wire serve different construction needs:

Black Annealed Wire

Offers excellent malleability for easy tying

Provides strong rust resistance

Maintains consistent strength across temperature variations

Galvanized Wire

Features enhanced corrosion protection

Ideal for exposed structural elements

Ensures longer-lasting connections

Stainless Steel Wire

Delivers maximum durability in harsh environments

Resists chemical degradation

Perfect for specialized construction projects

Construction Rings: Key Components

Construction rings play a vital role in reinforcement systems by:

Creating secure attachment points

Maintaining proper spacing between components

Ensuring even distribution of structural loads

Facilitating faster installation processes

Integration of Components

The effectiveness of wire binding depends heavily on proper integration with construction rings. This combination creates a robust system that:

Prevents displacement during concrete pouring

Maintains structural integrity over time

Reduces installation time and labor costs

Ensures consistent spacing and alignment

Best Practices for Implementation

Successful wire binding requires attention to several key factors:

Proper Tensioning

Apply consistent pressure during installation

Avoid over-tightening that could stress materials

Ensure uniform tension across all connection points

Material Compatibility

When selecting binding wire and construction rings, consider:

Environmental exposure levels

Load-bearing requirements

Project-specific regulations

Long-term maintenance needs

Installation Techniques

Follow manufacturer specifications

Use appropriate tools and methods

Maintain consistent spacing

Verify secure connections

Quality Control Measures

Regular inspection of wire binding installations should check for:

Proper tension maintenance

Uniform spacing between construction rings

Signs of material stress or fatigue

Compliance with project specifications

Safety Considerations

Proper implementation of wire binding techniques ensures:

Structural stability during construction

Long-term durability of finished structures

Worker safety during installation

Compliance with building codes

Cost-Efficiency Factors

While quality materials may cost more initially, proper wire binding implementation offers long-term benefits:

Reduced maintenance requirements

Lower repair costs

Extended structure lifespan

Improved project reliability

Future Trends

The wire binding industry continues to evolve with:

Advanced material development

Improved installation techniques

Enhanced durability solutions

Innovative construction rings designs

Selection Criteria

When choosing materials for wire binding projects, consider:

Project requirements and specifications

Environmental conditions

Load-bearing needs

Budget constraints

Installation timeline

Making Informed Decisions

Successful construction projects rely on selecting the right combination of binding wire and construction rings. Consider these factors when making material choices:

Project scope and requirements

Environmental exposure levels

Budget limitations

Installation timeline

Maintenance expectations

The proper implementation of wire binding techniques, combined with quality construction rings, creates stronger, more reliable structures. By understanding these essential components and their interaction, construction professionals can ensure project success while maintaining efficiency and cost-effectiveness.

Industry Standards and Certification

Adherence to industry standards plays a vital role in wire binding applications. Professional construction projects require materials that meet specific certification requirements, ensuring safety and reliability. Leading manufacturers provide detailed specifications for both binding wire and construction rings, including tensile strength ratings, corrosion resistance levels, and load-bearing capacities. These standards not only guarantee quality but also provide construction teams with clear guidelines for material selection and installation procedures. Regular testing and certification updates help maintain high-quality standards across the construction industry, ensuring that wire binding solutions continue to meet evolving building requirements and safety regulations.

[kapilasteel]

Why Binding Wire Is Essential for Reinforcing TMT Bar Manufacturers and Steel Structures

Strong structural integrity forms the backbone of modern construction, where every component plays a crucial role in ensuring building safety and longevity. A reliable steel pipe company understands that binding wire, often overlooked yet indispensable, serves as the critical connection point that holds reinforcement structures together, particularly in projects involving TMT bar manufacturers and steel fabrication.

Understanding Binding Wire's Role in Construction

Binding wire acts as the fundamental binding element in reinforced concrete structures, holding TMT bars and other reinforcement materials in place. This seemingly simple component prevents displacement during concrete pouring and ensures that steel reinforcements maintain their intended configuration throughout the construction process.

Quality steel pipe companies realize that proper reinforcement begins with selecting the right binding wire specifications. The wire must possess specific characteristics:

Maximum tensile strength for secure holding

Enough ductility for easy tying and handling

Resistant to corrosion and environmental conditions

Uniform diameter and surface quality

Important Construction Uses

TMT Bar companies state that binding wire is considerably used in the following applications:

Binding of Reinforcement Steel

Major Application

The main application is in concrete structures for reinforcing bar holding. Binding wire helps ensure that steel reinforcements are well arranged during the concreting process. It, therefore, complements the structure of buildings, bridges, and any infrastructure.

Mesh Fabrication

In mesh production, binding wire links crossing bars to form rebar grids. Those grids help reinforce concrete slabs, walls, and foundations by providing excellent support to loads placed in the structure.

Column and Beam Splicing

Steel pipe company professionals often highlight the importance of binding wire in vertical and horizontal reinforcements. Precise spacing between the bars and correct load distribution is ensured by it in structural elements.

Impact on Construction Quality

High-quality binding wire plays an important role in construction results:

Structural Integrity

Well-fastened reinforcements through quality binding wires ensure that all the steel pieces work in collaboration to strengthen and make the entire structure stronger and more durable.

Construction Efficiency

When TMT Bar Manufacturers give the construction team reliable binding wire, they will be able to work more effectively, thus decreasing the time needed for installation and still maintaining good quality.

Economy

Though binding wire takes up a relatively small percentage of construction costs, its quality impacts the long-term performance and maintenance requirements of the structure.

Choosing Appropriate Binding Wire

Construction workers should consider some factors when acquiring binding wire from a steel pipe company:

Quality of Material

Industry standards regarding strength, flexibility, and durability must be met by the wire. Quality material ensures effective bonding and long-term functionality.

Wire Gauge

Various applications require corresponding wire gauges. Size selection allows for maximized binding strength without affecting workability.

Surface Treatment

Galvanized and annealed provide different benefits for different construction environments and requirements.

Industry Standards and Compliance

Leading TMT Bar Manufacturers ensure their binding wire meets the set industry standards:

Tensile strength requirements

Dimensional tolerance specifications

Surface quality standards

Coating specifications for specialized applications

Future Considerations

As construction techniques evolve, binding wire continues to adapt to new requirements:

Enhanced coating technologies for better corrosion resistance

Improved manufacturing processes for consistent quality

Development of specialized varieties for specific applications

Integration with advanced construction methodologies

Making the Right Choice

Binding wire selection must be considered in accordance with project requirements as well as the quality standards of the construction process. Construction experts should find a reliable supplier of steel pipes who can understand the needs and accordingly produce the correct results.

For successful construction outcomes, professionals must recognize binding wire's essential role and make informed decisions about material selection and application. This attention to detail, combined with quality materials from trusted suppliers, creates the foundation for durable, safe, and reliable structures that stand the test of time.

[vmsplusblog]

[kxsagi]

𝟎𝟐. 𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐱 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬

now texting: sae 😒

the next day

you stood outside the looming black-glass building with your breath caught somewhere between your lungs and your throat. the cold chrome letters above the revolving door read MIKAGE RECORDS STUDIOS, and they might as well have said TURN BACK NOW. 

you glanced down at yourself – black cami top clinging just right, low-waisted star jeans sitting loose on your hips with the calvin klein waistband of your underwear peeking out, bracelets jangling at your wrist with every fidget. your adidas sambas scuffed the pavement as you shifted your weight. a groan slipped out as you pulled up your front camera to double-check the damage: curled hair holding up okay, necklace straight, all your piercings intact. 

you looked hot. but also slightly underdressed to walk into the same studio that housed the world’s most chaotic rock band. 

still, after five minutes of overthinking, you pushed through the doors. 

the lobby smelled like money. clean, icy air conditioning. white marble floors so polished you could see your reflection. gold elevator doors. a reception desk manned by a security guard in all black, eyes scanning your figure as you approached. 

you gave him your best don’t-mess-with-me smile. “hi. i’m here to see sae itoshi.” 

his brows arched slightly, and then relaxed. “oh, you’re that friend.” he leaned back in his chair. “he told us someone would be coming. marketing girl, right?” 

“that’s me,” you nodded, even though you hated being reduced to just that. but you were here for a paycheck, not an identity crisis. 

he pressed a button under the desk, unlocking the glass doors behind him. “he said you’d know where to go.” 

you froze for a split second. “right… i totally do.” 

he waved you through anyway, already looking back at his monitor. 

you stepped into the hallway, surrounded by tall walls and unfamiliar silence. you had no clue where the hell you were going. 

the sound of bass rumbled faintly from somewhere deeper in the building. you followed it, your shoes echoing too loudly on the floor. doors lined the hallway, some marked with numbers, others with nothing at all. you passed a room with soundproof glass. through it, you saw a drum kit and someone passed out on a beanbag. 

before you could double back and knock, a door swung open in front of you. you jumped. 

a man blinked at you, visibly confused, before smirking wide. “wow, what a woman.”  

tall, bleached-blond hair with blue streaks at the ends tousled like he’d just rolled out of bed and into a photoshoot. kaiser. you recognized him instantly. leather pants, mesh shirt, cocky smile you’d seen a hundred times in saint ego clips. 

“lost, pretty girl?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe like you were already his. 

you blinked, trying to avoid staring at the slight bruise on his cheekbone. “i’m… i’m looking for sae?” 

“damn. first time i meet you and you’re already breaking my heart.” he pushed off the doorframe. “you must be her. the intern.” 

“PR manager,” you corrected. “temporarily.” 

he grinned. “sure, sure. this way, baby PR.” 

you glared, but followed him anyway. 

he led you down a different hall, talking over his shoulder. “we’ve been waiting for you, you know. sae’s been acting like he’s about to spontaneously combust. and isagi–” 

he stopped himself just as he pushed open a door. 

inside was a lounge that looked like a musician’s version of a frat house. guitars on the wall. wires tangled on the floor. empty boba cups. rin sat on the couch, airpods in, scrolling through his phone. shidou was eating candy on the opposite end. sae stood near the kitchenette with a coffee in hand and dark circles under his eyes. bachira spun in a desk chair until he saw you, and then grinned wide. 

kaiser gestured like he’d just presented a magic trick. 

“gentlemen,” he said. “she’s here.” 

you hovered in the doorway for a moment, eyes scanning the chaos of the lounge. the room felt alive – cluttered, loud, buzzing with a kind of boy-energy that smelled like caffeine, guitar polish, and too many late nights. 

bachira was the first to shoot up from his seat and greet you. he practically skipped across the room, mismatched socks and a smile too wide to be legal. 

“you’re the intern? woah. you’re pretty.” 

“PR manager,” you corrected, again. 

“temporary,” sae added from behind his coffee mug, voice dry. 

“welcome to the jungle,” bachira grinned, twirling a piece of your hair before kaiser gently tugged him back by the collar. 

“don’t harass her on sight,” he muttered. 

“it’s not harassment if i say it with love,” bachira replied, then leaned in and whispered to you, “you’ll get used to the chaos. or you won’t. but either way, it’s entertaining.” 

rin didn’t even glance up from his phone. he just muttered a flat, “hi.” 

“he’s dry,” bachira whispered loudly. 

you were about to reply that you already knew rin when the door behind you creaked again. 

someone stepped in, hoodie pulled over his dark hair, earbuds in, a notebook under his arm. he looked up – slow, sharp, unreadable. 

isagi yoichi. lead singer. band’s main songwriter. center of the storm last week. 

his gaze landed on you like a spotlight. not the loud kind, the quiet kind. intense. observant. he took in your outfit, your expression, your stance. all of it. in a second flat. 

you were prepared for cocky. aloof. maybe even rude. 

you weren’t prepared for the way he blinked once, then nodded politely and said, “hey. i’m isagi.” 

his voice was smooth, but low. not overly friendly. not cold either. just… level. 

you didn’t realize you were staring until kaiser bumped your arm. “don’t mind him. he’s quiet around girls he thinks are cute.” 

you pursed your lips together. you were here for work, not a boyfriend. 

isagi rolled his eyes and walked past you, dropping onto the farthest couch with his notebook and pen. he didn’t look flustered. not exactly. but the corner of his mouth twitched, like he was amused. like he’d already read this whole situation ten steps ahead. 

“i’m not quiet,” he said, flipping open the notebook. “i’m just working.” 

“he’s writing a song,” bachira whispered dramatically. “he’s been brooding for like, four hours.” 

“three,” isagi corrected without looking up. 

sae sighed, rubbing his temples. “can we sit? i brought her here for a reason.” 

you straightened up, shoulders back. “right.”

it was showtime. 

you stepped further into the room, eyes darting around for the cleanest surface to put your laptop bag. there wasn’t one. you settled for the edge of the coffee table, nudging aside a crushed monster can and what looked like a guitar string wrapped around a chopstick. 

“so,” you started, voice clear, “i know things have been... messy. which is why i’m here.” 

rin made a sound like a scoff. kaiser hummed a fake violin. shidou laughed. bachira leaned forward like you were about to tell a ghost story. 

you met their stares one by one, steady. “i’m here to manage your public image. and if i’m doing my job right, no one will remember the livestream fight in a month.” 

“bold of you to assume people will forget the highlight of the year,” rin said from the armchair, lazily flipping a pick between his fingers. 

“i’m not asking them to forget,” you replied. “i’m giving them something better to remember.” 

that earned a few raised brows. 

“a documentary,” you continued. “seven episodes. behind-the-scenes, raw, real. your comeback arc. your redemption tour. a perfectly curated mess.” 

bachira clapped once. “ooooh. like keeping up with saint ego.” 

“more like surviving saint ego,” rin muttered. 

“same thing,” kaiser grinned. 

you didn’t look away. “we control the narrative. not the fans. not the headlines. us.” 

"i was thinking of making isagi and kaiser film an apology video with a black and white filter over it," sae admitted blankly.

"no, the fandom is already divided. an apology video would be picked apart like crazy and nothing would change," you explained, voice steady with confidence.

“and you think people will buy the documentary?” isagi asked. his eyes were still on the notebook, but his pen had stopped moving. 

you turned toward him. “they won’t have to. they’ll just watch.” 

there was a pause. a flicker of something passed behind his eyes. curiosity? respect? maybe even… interest? 

“we start filming in two days,” you said. “you’ll each have individual interviews. group sessions. footage from rehearsals, the studio, the tour. the camera will follow you around.” 

“do we get hair and makeup?” bachira asked, already pulling out his phone. “i wanna wear eyeliner like rodrick heffley.” 

“you can wear whatever you want,” you said. “you’re just gonna pretend the camera isn’t there.” 

“you’ll regret saying that,” sae muttered. 

kaiser leaned back in the armchair, legs sprawled. “and who’s behind the camera?” 

“a guy named hiori. also my uni classmate that majors in film production. he’s perfect for this because he’s discreet. professional. nonjudgmental. which is more than i can say for most of you.” 

shidou smirked. “you’re fun.” 

“i’m serious.” 

“so are we,” isagi said quietly, closing his notebook. 

the room stilled. his tone wasn’t harsh, but it carried weight. suddenly everyone was looking at him. but he looked at you. 

“you think you can fix this?” 

you matched his gaze. “i think you need to let me try.” 

a beat. then: 

“fine,” he said, standing. “but if we’re doing this, we’re doing it right. no fake smiles. no scripted bullshit. you want the real story?” 

“that’s the only story worth telling,” you said. 

his lip quirked up. a near-smile. just for a second. 

bachira whooped and flopped onto the couch beside you. “this is gonna be so much fun.” 

“this is gonna be a disaster,” rin corrected. 

“same thing,” kaiser said again, laughing. 

you sat down, heart still racing from adrenaline. but they were listening. and that was half the battle. 

the other half? 

well, that would come later. when the cameras were rolling. when the cracks started to show. when secrets slipped out between songs and smoke breaks. 

but for now, you had their attention. 

and that was enough. 

masterlist | ch. 01 | ch. 03

taglist (closed): @nensi @ro4love @avaxoxo13 @levisgoonerr @jnkosstuff @simpingmyassoff @sunsettsguitar @trinkets-of-time @cinneorolls @silverwings920 @mymeloreo @satorella @gkattdoesstuff @lovingmayday @pixelpancakes @vverie @nicfics @nevvynev @astro-3000 @mihyas-dieehefrau @i-eve-i @ohagiyoo @aadahyax @yumerinns @rie-cecooker @neeeooon @laylaandsstuff @irethepotato @byzantiumhollow @luvsymai @blu3-l0v3r @kiritokunuwu @anaxugoras @yxnnu @academiq @jaeyuuns @x3nafix @sukunaspillow @sasukevrz @anyaslittlepeanut @yunsspace @gurehai @chiieni @6riix @miiyabi @2ukika @ventivente @heartsforfeitan @kai-wavesii-blog @iqxatlantic

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[la-gotica-fantasma]

Nineteen writing tips I've picked up / been told -

~ ( Disclaimer : I am not telling you what to do or what you can and cannot do. Writing is personal, stylized, and a vessel for self-expression. Your writing is YOURS suga, and however you do it is beautiful. This post is just some advice I've found insightful, and maybe you could too. ᓚᘏᗢ ) ~

★ If you cannot tell if your story is connecting - read it out loud

★ If you have a really good idea, and you are practically itching to write it right now - then do !! Jot down that amazing idea and then connect all those frayed wires.

★ If you want the reader to be attached to a character - let that character be imperfect. Let them be selfish, overzealous, clumsy, or naive. / Let their good traits have bad days.

( examples include, but are not limited to; )

Savior-complex: Pushing too hard to help someone and hurting them more.

Patience: Being left high and dry.

High tolerance: Other characters overestimating their ability to tolerate anything.

Selfless: 'Character X' putting themselves after others to the point that 'Character Y ' has to forget about themselves to be able to keep 'Character X' afloat.

Bonding: Building an unhealthy reliance with one another.

★ If you want a character to be [emotionally] complex - let their emotions conflict. / Let morals be mixed into their dilemma (if they have one). / Try not to let the plot overshadow the characters inner conflict.

★ If you have a work in progress that you want to finish, but can't find motivation to - that's okay !! You're allowed to wait, and you're allowed to come back later with a bajillion ideas !!!

★ If you have plot holes - don't overwork yourself trying to getting rid of them !!! There are plot holes in stories that are TRUE, it'd be impossible to fix all plot holes.

★ If you are writing first person / thought - give their thought process a voice. How do they think? How do they structure their sentences? What phrases do they often use?

★ If you are writing stuttering, people rarely ever stutter "L-l-like..... T-t-this." - Stuttering is usually the repeating of the same part in a sentence, going back on it, like they're editing their sentence. / Space in between words, breathing, preparing. / Filler words !!! "Oh- I- I just-.. uhmm.. I was- I was just giving.. an example."

★ Don't 'CAPITALIZE' dialogue to show that they are yelling / shouting / screaming - we can convey yelling with how we phrase their speech, exclamation marks, etc.

★ Don't be afraid to make a character have hate for another character - nobody can like everybody. It can add personality and makes the character all the more realistic for the reader

★ Sensory details are always great to have in your work !!! But in action scenes - having less sensory detail is almost always more immersive.

"Why?", Because if a character is in an active sword fight with another character, their focus wouldn't be on the way the moonlight spills through the mesh curtains, or how their hand feels against the handle.

Putting those details before or after is so much more realistic and lets the reader grab and hang on to what you have to say, instead of a zip line with loose handlebars.

★ Don't be afraid to use tropes - it's not cheating in the slightest, you are the one writing it. Nobody else could've used the trope like you would. / You can use tropes to your advantage; readers find security in tropes, let the reader think "I see this often, they'll _____" and then totally 180 them.

★ Kill "Show. Don't tell." - you can do both !! It will be right either way, but always choosing one or the other disengages the reader from certain aspects.

★ Kill "Said is Dead" - you can lack the word "said" just as much as you can overuse it !!!

★ It isn't just about if a character coaxed, agreed, revealed, or proposed the dialogue. - It's also about how they did it. Was it soft? Sand papery? Rich? Confident? Hesitant?

★ Chaos doesn't solve 'everything' - but it solves a boatload.

★ Your story doesn't have to have a happy ending for the main character.

★ If a scene feels random or forced - check if you have motive for the scene

★ If you think of yourself as a bad writer, or you're self-conscious of your writing, remember - that no matter what, you will always be a better writer than Colleen Hoover.

~ ( Reminder : If you live by any of the things I mentioned, this is no hate to you. I am not shunning you, nor the way you write. Your current writing and your future growth is beautiful. But, if you like Colleen Hoover you can block me. ᓚᘏᗢ ) ~

[suzukiblu]

Let me help. Catching. Timkon timbart or timkonbart

“Let me help,” Tim says like it’s simple, like he and Kon aren’t currently hanging upside-down over yet another weird Gotham vat of weird Gotham chemicals that could definitely fuck up even a demi-Kryptonian to concerning levels. Tim’s knees are hooked over the edge of the rickety old catwalk, a grappling line twisted around his left arm and the rail and anchoring him there, and his right arm holding onto Kon’s wrist–and nothing else. 

Kon’s not holding onto anything, because Kon’s unconscious. Unconscious with bloody shards of kryptonite stuck in his even bloodier chest. 

So like, even if the weird Gotham chemicals weren’t a problem, dropping him would not be a good idea right now. 

Bart doesn’t even know why they’ve got kryptonite in grifing Gotham. Why is that a thing?! What is wrong with this stupid city?! 

And Tim’s voice was neutral and matter-of-fact across the communicator, but even from here Bart can tell he’s sweating and see his muscles trembling, and he heard his breath catch before he spoke. 

Bart can’t even tell if Kon’s breathing at all, from the other side of this stupid sprocking security door on the far end of the catwalk. There’s a narrow little window full of wire mesh he can see through but couldn’t fit through even if he broke it, and he can’t get through, and–

Bart’s just trying not to freak the grife out, because he knows Kon is heavy and Tim is just human with just-human strength and stamina and zero leverage to pull that much dead weight up with and Bart can’t tell the difference between subjective and objective time and how long has Tim been holding onto Kon like that, how long has it been exactly– 

“Breathe, Impulse,” Tim orders across the line, certain and simple. “Objective time. Count it down. How long does it typically take four milligrams of ketamine to burn through your system?” 

“We don’t even know it was ketamine, do you even know how much ketamine that’d be, that’s–I haven’t eaten in two hours,” Bart cuts himself off abruptly, trying not to jitter. Not to panic. Not having eaten makes it worse, obviously. Hits him harder; lasts longer. And two hours on a speedster metabolism might as well be two day, at a minimum. 

But the real problem is that whatever the fuck was in those sedatives, right now he’s slow, and so it’s literally impossible for him to vibrate through the stupid door he can’t get open. 

“Okay,” Tim says, and exhales slowly. It crackles over the line. He visibly tightens his grip on Kon’s limp wrist and maybe-not-breathing body. Maybe–no, Kon’s breathing, Bart tells himself. Tim’s practical. He’d drop him if he were dead. He’d–

Who is he even kidding right now? It’s Kon. 

And Tim wouldn’t even drop a stranger. 

“Okay,” Tim repeats, and lets out another slow exhalation. Doesn’t look towards Bart and the door; doesn’t look quite at Kon either. “Just–okay.” 

It’s really, really not, Bart knows, and tries to vibrate his hands against the door again. 

They don’t. 

But Tim isn’t going to drop Kon, and Bart isn’t going to stop trying to get through this stupid goddamn door.

[facts-i-just-made-up]

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

[tinyshyteacup]

Taglist: @kellynickelsgirl00 @dixonsbridexx @yikes-myguy @blackwidownat2814 @euqsia @lliteratii @imadisneyprincessiswear @satata @smashleywow @misspendragonsworld @captain-shannon-becker @i-doutt-it @bookies16

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TW: cussing, early seasons Daryl, angst, descriptions of walkers (Zombies) , firearms, Shane is creepy, mentions of hunting, mentions of dealing with hunted animals.

Part 8

Dead Weight - Part 9

The endless winter had finally given way to spring, though you hardly noticed the changing seasons anymore. Life had become a blur of running, hiding, and surviving since the farm fell. Eight months of nomadic existence had worn everyone down to their bones.

You could see it in the hollows of their cheeks, the way clothes hung loose on once-fuller frames, the perpetual dark circles that made everyone's eyes seem sunken and haunted.

Today's oppressive Georgia heat wasn't helping matters. Sweat trickled down your spine as you trudged behind Carol, both of you keeping watch on the perimeter while the others hunted through yet another abandoned house.

Your throat felt like sandpaper, water rations having been cut back three days ago when the last creek you'd found had been too contaminated to risk drinking from.

When Rick's low whistle signaled the all-clear, you followed Carol inside, hoping against hope for something—anything—that might have been overlooked by previous scavengers.

The house had been picked clean, like all the others. A few empty cans scattered across dusty linoleum floors. Cabinets hanging open like gaping mouths. The lingering scent of decay that never quite faded, no matter how long the dead had been gone.

"Nothing," T-Dog confirmed, emerging from the back rooms with empty hands and a grim expression.

Rick nodded, the motion jerky with fatigue. His beard had grown wild, matching the barely contained desperation in his eyes. "We'll move on. There's got to be something out there."

The first time you see the prison, it’s a bleak silhouette against a burning-orange sunset. The tall watchtowers loom like sentries, motionless and watching.

Chain-link fences wrap around it like it's own twisted crown, and the yard between the outer and inner barriers is scattered with the dead—some still moving.

Your breath catches, not just because of the sight, but because of the hope that grips your chest and won’t let go.

“Looks secure,” Daryl mutters dryly, stepping up beside you with his crossbow slung lazily over one shoulder.

You glance up at him. He doesn’t look at you, eyes scanning the perimeter with practiced eyes.

He squints against the sun and adds, "If you're into barbed wire and piss-stained concrete."

You half-smile. “We could make it home”

That gets his attention.

Just for a second.

He looks at you sideways, one brow raised like he’s trying to figure out if you’re joking or just that soft hearted.

But he doesn’t say anything more—just huffs quietly and walks toward Rick.

That night, as the group prepares to clear the outer yard, Daryl is a blur of precise movement, loosing bolts into skulls, dragging bodies, barking short, clipped instructions.

He doesn’t waste words, but he glances toward the fence where you stand—more than once.

You're behind the mesh, knuckles white on the chain-link, your eyes following his every step. At one point, he stops to yank a walker’s boot from where it’s caught in the gravel—and you catch the faintest twitch of a grin when he hears you flinch at the squelch.

“Y'gotta get used to that sound, Woman,” he mutters, half to himself.

The last walker had fallen with a thud that echoed in the hard-packed dirt. The scent of blood clung to the air like smoke, heavy and metallic. The group stood there for a moment, breathless, surrounded by silence so thick it pressed against your skin.

For the first time in weeks, the threat wasn’t immediate.

The yard was yours.

They set up a rough camp within the inner fence, huddled around a small fire made from scrap wood scavenged from the outskirts.

The flames crackled low, casting flickering shadows across the yard and barbed wire above.

No tents.

No beds.

Just the ground beneath and the open sky above.

Everyone was tired.

Bone-deep, soul-tired.

You sat a little apart from the main group, arms wrapped around your knees, eyes distant.

The prison felt like safety, but up close it still looked like a cage.

You watched the way Carol gently leaned into Lori, how Glen rubbed Maggie’s back with slow, absentminded motions.

Quiet murmurs filled the space between exhaustion.

From the darkness near the fence line, you heard a rough grunt.

"Hey.” Daryl’s voice—low, gruff, like gravel being ground under boot.

You looked up to find him approaching. His silhouette moved through the night—silent, wary, but with purpose.

He crouched beside you, holding something wrapped in a stained bit of cloth. A strip of meat—charred black at the edges, still steaming.

He didn’t meet your gaze as he held it out.

“Ain’t gourmet, but it’ll keep your legs from givin’ out.”

You blinked, startled by another offering. “Oh… thank you.”

You hesitated—then took it, you picked at the meat, trying not to make a face at the texture. It was wild and unfamiliar.

Earthy.

Gamey.

“Y'eatin’ or just makin’ faces at it?” Daryl asked, sitting on his haunches beside you, crossbow resting against his knee.

You managed a weak laugh. “I’m not used to… I didn’t eat much meat back home.”

He looked sideways at you, then back at the fire. “Well. This ain’t home.”

You nodded, your gaze dropping. “No. It’s not, but ... Thank you.”

There was a long pause.

Daryl shifted, picking a rock out from under his boot and tossing it toward the fence. It clinked against the wire.

“You holdin’ up okay?” he asked abruptly. His voice was rough, like he didn’t want to ask—but needed to.

You turned to look at him, surprised. He didn’t glance at you, just stared off into the darkness like the question had nothing to do with you at all.

“You know,” he added quickly, “after all the runnin’. The killin’. The lookin’ over your damn shoulder every five seconds thing.”

You swallowed. The meat sat heavy in your mouth. “I’m… trying. I don’t think I’ve really had a moment to stop since the farm.”

“Ain’t that the truth” Daryl grunted just loud enough for you to hear.

You sat in silence for a few moments. He didn’t move away. He didn’t say much else. Just stayed close.

The sun rises sluggishly, casting long shadows across the yard. The grass is dying in patches, the soil hardened and dust-dry beneath your feet. You and the others—Carol, Beth, Hershel, and Lori—wait behind the safety of the inner gates while the clearing team heads inside.

"Hey! Over here!" Carol called, rattling the fence with one hand while the other gripped a hunting knife, ready for any walkers that might approach your position.

You joined in, banging a rock against a metal fence post, the sound ringing out sharply across the yard.

Daryl moves like a ghost—stealthy, deliberate, every movement calculated. You watch from behind the fence, eyes locked on the dark shape of him disappearing through steel doors.

"They're too far in," Beth whispered beside you her own knife tight in her grip, her voice taut with worry.

"We can't help them from here."

She was right. The fence-banging strategy was useless now, with the team too distant for the noise to draw walkers away effectively. All you could do was watch and wait, heart in your throat, as they fought their way forward.

Lori's sharp intake of breath drew your attention. She was leaning heavily against the fence, one hand pressed against the small of her back, her face contorted in a grimace.

"Lori?" You moved to her side immediately, one hand hovering near her elbow. "Is it the baby?"

She shook her head, forcing a tight smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Just a twinge. I'm fine." But the way she clutched at the fence, knuckles white with tension, told a different story.

"You should sit down," Carol suggested, her maternal instincts taking over as she guided Lori toward a fallen log several yards back from the fence line.

You hesitated, torn between staying with Lori and keeping watch on the clearing operation.

Carl made the decision for you, his young voice surprisingly authoritative as he said, "I'll stay with Mom. You watch Dad and the others."

You nod, arms folded tight across your chest. You don’t say it, but your stomach clenched the moment they went inside.

Inside, Daryl’s voice echoes faintly through the halls.

He covers Rick’s flank, bolts flying with perfect precision.

When Maggie almost slips on a wet patch of gore, he grabs her elbow—quick, firm—and lets go just as fast.

But when they return—faces streaked with sweat and grime, exhaustion in their shoulders—Daryl’s eyes scan the yard the moment the gate closes behind them.

He doesn’t call your name. Doesn’t even step toward you.

But his gaze finds yours. Holds for a beat.

You smile softly—relieved, awkward, unsure if you’re allowed to feel the way you do.

He rolls his eyes and mutters, mostly to himself, “Ain’t like I died in there.”

But you catch the small shift in his jaw. Like your worry meant something.

Later, while the others sort weapons and food supplies inside, Daryl kneels by the doorway, adjusting a loose strap on his crossbow. You walk over, lingering just far enough to give him space—but he doesn’t wave you off.

“You did good in there,” you say quietly.

He doesn’t look up. “Yeah, well. Ain’t my first day.”

You offer a nervous whisper. “Glad you came back.”

At that, he pauses. Looks up. Squints at you like he can’t tell if you’re playing some game he doesn’t know the rules to.

“Y'sayin’ that ‘cause I’m useful? Or ‘cause you give a damn?”

The question catches you off guard. You blink. “I… both?”

Daryl makes a rough noise in his throat, stands, and brushes past you with a shake of his head.

But as he walks off, you don't catch—the tiniest upturn at the corner of his mouth.

The sound of rusted hinges groaning echoes down the empty hallways as the group moves into Cell Block C. The cells are lined in two tiers, peeling numbers on each one, open doors that don't sway.

Dust hangs thick in the stale air. The overhead lights are out, electricity was a luxury no one was afforded now.

What little daylight filters through narrow, barred windows feels almost reluctant to touch the place.

“Ain’t stayin’ in no damned cage,” Daryl mutters low under his breath, his voice gritty with disdain.

He lingers at the entrance of the block, crossbow in hand, eyes scanning the cells like they’re lined with landmines. His shoulders are stiff, defensive.

You’ve seen that posture before—at the farm, when Shane got too close and Daryl stepped in. It’s his don’t-push-me stance.

You pause beside him, your own bag slung over one shoulder, trying not to cough on the dust.

“It’s just for sleep,” you say gently.

He flicks a glance your way, not saying anything. But you can feel the weight of that look—it’s not sharp like before. It lingers.

Rick walks past, nodding toward a few lower-tier cells. “Pick one. We’ll rotate night watches.”

Daryl snorts. “I'll take the perch.”

He follows. Not because he wants to—but because he sees you hesitate in front of an empty upper level cell, peering inside like you expect it to bite.

“This one’s got a bit of light,” you murmur, more to yourself.

“Means it’s got a crack,” Daryl grumbles behind you, nibbling the inside of his lip. “You want light or you want safety?”

You move to the next cell opposite the landing at the stairs, shrugging off your pack. “Safety. I guess.”

He eyes the cell beside yours, the one you moved away from—tucked into a corner, bars that don’t quite close flush. He sighs through his nose, jaw working.

Then—grudgingly—he steps in, grabs the thin matress and drags it to the landing. Slinging his bag to the floor next to it. Stares up at the ceiling like it personally offended him.

“Don’t snore, Woman” he mutters as he kicks a loose stone from the concrete.

The cell block is too quiet.

The moans of distant walkers echo faintly through thick concrete walls, but otherwise, it’s an unnatural stillness.

No crickets. No wind. No leaves rustling.

You lie on your side, curled beneath a threadbare blanket, eyes wide in the dark.

You can’t sleep. Not with the weight of everything pressing in.

“Y'still breathin’ over there?” Daryl’s voice cuts through the dark, rough but quiet.

You jump slightly, then offer a soft, almost embarrassed reply. “I… yeah. Just… not used to walls anymore.”

A pause.

“Hmph. Thought you’d like the quiet.”

You let the silence stretch a moment. “It’s not quiet. It’s empty.”

There’s a soft rustle of his mattress as he shifts. Proping himself up on both elbows, as he looks into the darkness of your cell from under his fringe.

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with bein’ empty,” he says.

You wish you had something smart to say, something deep. But all you can offer is.

“I don’t think I was made for empty.”

And in the dark, you hear him sigh. A long one. The kind that scrapes something raw in his chest.

“Yeah… me either.”

Sunlight filters in hazy through the high, grimy windows of the cell block. Dust floats like ash in the stale air, and you sit cross-legged on a stairs outside your cell, fidgeting with a loose thread on your sleeve.

Carol’s beside you, folding some of the sheets Lori had cleaned that morning, her movements automatic.

Her eyes keep flicking toward the door that leads deeper into the prison.

“They’ve been gone a while,” you murmur, voice low, uncertain.

Carol gives you a sideways glance, offering a small, strained smile. “That’s usually a good sign. Less screaming.”

You manage a breathy laugh. It doesn’t last long.

Your eyes drift toward the door that goes deeper into the prison, the one they all disappeared through hours ago—Rick, Maggie, Glenn, T-Dog, and Daryl.

“He doesn’t like it in here,” you say suddenly, not even meaning to.

Carol doesn’t look up, but her brow lifts.

“Who? Daryl?”

You nod.

She hums softly. “That man doesn’t like much of anything.”

You open your mouth, then close it.

Because she’s not wrong.

Before you can reply, a crash echoes down the corridor. Metal slams against concrete, followed by shouting—Rick’s voice, loud and panicked.

Then Maggie.

Then Glen.

Something bad.

Carol’s already on her feet, dropping the folded sheet. You’re slower, heart pounding in your ears, legs trembling as you push yourself up.

Then you see them—Glen first, pale, supporting the blood-soaked weight of Hershel Greene. Lori and Carl race forward, and Carol gasps beside you.

“Oh my god—”

Rick’s shirt is slick with blood, Maggie sobbing as they lower Hershel onto a mattress someone drags from a cell. His leg is gone. Torn away above the knee, the stump wrapped hastily in a belt. His skin is already grey.

You backpedal, mouth open but silent. It’s like your brain can’t decide whether to freeze or run. You grab the metal bars beside you to steady yourself, knuckles whitening.

Over the chaos, you hear another voice—deeper, more hostile.

“You people just cut off his damn leg?!”

You inch toward the barred divider, peering into the smaller entry space just past the bloodied mattress.

Daryl stands like a wolf on a chain, blocking five men who’ve just appeared through a the hallway. They’re all filthy, wide-eyed—still dressed in prison gear.

Your breath catches.

Survivors.

But not just any kind. The cuffs hanging off one of them, their uniforms, the way one of them twitches like he’s used to violence... and prepared to use it… something about them makes your stomach churn.

Daryl stands just in front of them, crossbow raised and aimed, body rigid, angled sideways like he’s shielding the rest of the group.

"Today's y'lucky day, fellas. Y'been pardoned by the state of Georgia. Yer free to go." He growls, voice low and fierce.

The lead prisoner—a taller man with greasy hair and intense eyes—raises both hands mockingly. “We don’t want trouble. This was our home first.”

“Yeah?” Daryl spits. “Looks like y’all didn’t do such a good job keepin’ it clean.”

One of the others steps forward.

Daryl’s jaw tightens, and you see his thumb twitch over the trigger.

Not pulling.

Just ready.

[pinchofhoney]

be careful what you wish for

coriolanus snow x fem!reader

word count: 1.7k

warning: platonic relationship, quite angst-ish, text in italics is a flashback

summary: Turning in a district boy to the authorities felt like the right thing to do for Coriolanus. But what if, in doing so, he betrayed you as well?

a/n: absolutely no one asked for it, but i'll deliver it to you anyway<33 i'd say have fun but i'm not sure i'd be appropriate here

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

taglist: @watercolorskyy

gif is not mine, credit to the owner

The moment Sejanus shared Billy Taup's escape plan with you, there wasn't much hesitation on your part. It's not that you acted without thinking; it's just that you didn't need much time to decide.

The summer was scorching, feeling like an unending oven. The sun never let up, and even when you hoped for cooler nights, the heat lingered. You've gotten used to the coal dust that's practically become your second skin in District 12, but what truly got to you wasn't the clinging dirt. It was the musty scent of men's sweat, a scent that clung to the air, heavy with the hard work that defined your daily life.

Being one of the few female Peacekeepers among a crowd of men wasn't your ideal situation. Many other girls had come and gone, unable to stand the sacrifices the job demanded, but you stood your ground, determined to prove yourself in this role, even if serving in this particular district wasn't your dream come true.

At least until a certain point.

When you first arrived in District 12, your main goal was to pass your officer's exam as quickly as possible and secure a transfer elsewhere. But when young Plinth kindled the idea of a life beyond authority and rules, the seed of belief in freedom took root within you. The very thought of it resonated in your mind, sounding truly incredible, and you couldn't wait to leave the filthy district behind, escaping through a gap in the wire mesh fence.

But, of course, life wouldn't be too easy if everything just went as planned, right?

One moment, you were getting ready with Sejanus and the other rebels, gathering the basics for your escape north to the supposedly destroyed District 13. The next, you found yourself standing behind one of the empty houses on the Seam with Coriolanus. He held onto your shoulders, telling you urgently that you had to leave the District as soon as possible.

“What?” was the first word that slipped from your lips, your brows furrowed in confusion as you looked at your friend. “Isn't that exactly what we're working on?” you added, slightly amused, pushing Coriolanus' hands off your shoulders.

Shaking your head, you were about to update him on your progress when he caught your forearm again. “I think you misunderstood me, Y/N,” he said, his face dead serious. “You need to get out of here now,” he continued, and seeing your raised eyebrow, he almost gritted the last word through his teeth.

“What do you mean, Coryo?” you asked, breaking the silence after staring at him for a while, tired of him speaking in riddles.

Now Coriolanus was the one staying silent, his cool eyes fixed on you. You couldn't decipher his expressions; it felt like he was betraying a hundred feelings at once and, at the same time, nothing at all.

“I… um, there's…” the blond man started, stumbling over his words, unsure how to share the information he needed to tell you. “There's a chance that the talk Sejanus and I had, which you joined not long ago, about your escape plan, might have been fully recorded by one of the jabberjays.”

You seemed not to grasp the gravity of Coriolanus' words, so you stared at him, searching for any hint in his eyes that he might be joking.

“Okay, so what?” you eventually asked, once again furrowing your brows, this time with a bit less intensity.When a twig snapped around the building's corner, you quickly turned, thinking it might be someone eavesdropping, but finding only a small hedgehog, you shifted your attention back to the boy in the bluish uniform.

“So what?” Coriolanus repeated your question, unable to believe your difficulty in connecting the dots. “Y/N, these birds are headed to the Capitol. To the lab of the woman who’s the Head Gamemaker of the Hunger Games. And do you know what the Capitol authorities do to rebels?” he asked the question, not waiting for your response. “They hang them on the hanging tree, Y/N.”

You stared at Coriolanus, steadying yourself with a hand against the wooden building. With every word he spoke, you felt the color drain from your face.

“How��� How did this happen?” you asked, trying to keep your emotions in check.

Coriolanus happily took care of the mockingjays, moving their cages, tagging them, and passing them along. As Bug left with the fiftieth cage, Sejanus burst into the room, full of excitement. He shared the good news about the upcoming package from his mother with his friends, watching Bug leave with a smile before turning to Coriolanus, who had just finished dealing with the bird marked as number 1.

The bird chirped in its cage, mimicking the last mockingbird, but once Bug was gone, Sejanus' cheerful expression faded, replaced by a troubled look. He glanced around the hangar to ensure they were alone before speaking in a quiet voice.

“Listen, we've only got a few minutes. I know you might not like what I'm about to do, but I need you to at least understand it. After what you said the other day, about us being like brothers, well, I feel I owe you an explanation. Please, just hear me out.”

This was the moment, the confession.

Now was the time for the pieces to be explained, especially about the alliance with rebels and money that he found in Sejanus' belongings. Once Coriolanus heard it, he'd be as good as one of them, a traitor to the Capitol.

Panic, running, or trying to silence Sejanus could be expected, but Coriolanus did none of these things. Instead, his hands moved instinctively. His left hand adjusted the cover of the jabberjay cage, while his right, hidden from Sejanus's view by his body, reached for a remote on the counter. Coriolanus pressed RECORD, and the jabberjay fell silent.

Turning his back to the cage, Coriolanus leaned on the table with his hands, waiting.

In the middle of Sejanus' explanation, you dashed into the hangar like a hurricane itself.

“There you are!” you exclaimed, both happy and a bit annoyed to find young Plinth. “Why didn't you wait for me? I said I wanted to go to Coryo with you,” you added, crossing your arms on your chest as you closed the gap between the boys and yourself.

It seemed that Coriolanus, noticing you in the hangar, tensed up a bit. He glanced briefly at the cage with the bird recording the conversation on the table, but neither of you or Sejanus noticed, and together, you continued explaining your plan to him.

During your report, where you and Sejanus competed over who could give Coriolanus more details, he lowered his head and rubbed his brow with his fingertips. It looked like he was trying to gather his thoughts, unsure how long he could stay silent without seeming suspicious.

But Sejanus rushed on, “I couldn't leave without telling you. You've been like a brother to me. I'll never forget what you did for me in the arena. I'll find a way to let Ma know what happened to me. And my father, too. I'll let him know the Plinth name lives on, even if it's in obscurity.”

The mention of the Plinth name was enough.

Coriolanus's left hand found the remote, and he pressed the NEUTRAL button with his thumb. The jabberjay resumed its earlier song.

Something caught Coriolanus's attention. “Here comes Bug.”

“Here comes Bug,” the bird echoed in his voice.

“Hush, you silly thing,” he scolded the bird, secretly pleased it had returned to its normal pattern. Nothing to alert both of you. He quickly covered the cage with a cloth and marked it with J1.

“I swear, I have no idea,” Coriolanus lied, wearing a worried expression. “While rearranging the cages, one of them must have snagged the remote control.”

You lightly bit your lower lip, eyeing your friend. Without any reason to doubt him, you finally let out a shaky breath.

Gazing up at the sky, you counted to three in your mind to steady your nerves. Then, you looked back at Coriolanus.

“Does Sejanus know?”

“Of course, I told him first,” he lied again, his gaze fixed beyond your shoulders without losing the concerned look on his face.

“God, what are we going to do now?” nerves took over every cell in your body as you asked another question. You leaned against the wooden building, slowly lowering yourself until you were sitting on the ground.

You lifted your head to meet Coriolanus's eyes, and he crouched in front of you, placing his hand on one of your knees.

“Hey, don't stress. You're heading back to the base now. Pack what you need, and tonight, you'll slip out of the district just like you planned with the rebels. You'll meet Sejanus at the lake, alright?” he spoke with a calmness, almost like talking to a kid, trying to reassure you.

Even though Coriolanus despised rebels — those who went against the Capitol's rules — he didn't want you to suffer the consequences that would surely befall Sejanus. He had nothing against you; in fact, he genuinely liked you. Your innocence about a better life beyond the Capitol's control wasn't his concern because you hadn't caused him any trouble, unlike young Plinth who had stirred up problems more than once.

“But won't it be suspicious if I suddenly vanish? They'll be searching for me, Coryo. They'll find me and punish me,” you said, placing your hand on his.

“I told you not to worry, remember?” Coriolanus replied, a bit sharper but still maintaining his reassuring tone. “I'll figure something out. No one's going to harm you.”

“But Coryo, you-” you began, but he quickly cut you off.

“Enough, Y/N,” Coriolanus said firmly, standing up from his crouch. “Get up. We're heading back to base,” he reached out a hand to you, which you took after a moment's hesitation. He helped you stand, silently conveying to act naturally before stepping out from behind the building.

You had no choice but to go along with Coriolanus' questionable plan, clinging to the hope that he knew what he was doing.

Little did you grasp the reality—that he was the cunning architect behind the recorded conversation. Sejanus wouldn't show up at the lake beyond District 12's boundaries. Instead, his fate would take a dark turn as he dangled lifeless from a tree in a matter of days.

[almiqahardware]

The Rising Importance of Wire Mesh in Oman’s Industrial Growth

Oman has rapidly positioned itself as a key player in infrastructure and industrial development within the GCC. As the nation diversifies its economy beyond oil and gas, sectors like construction, agriculture, mining, and manufacturing are gaining momentum. In this evolving landscape, wire mesh products — once confined to simple fencing and filtration — are now playing a crucial role in a wide array of industrial applications.

This blog explores the expanding role of wire mesh in Oman’s industrial ecosystem, its growing relevance, and how businesses can leverage its versatility, strength, and durability.

Wire Mesh: A Versatile Solution for Oman’s Harsh Conditions

Available in stainless steel, galvanized iron, and PVC-coated variants, wire mesh offers high tensile strength, flexibility, and excellent corrosion resistance — qualities ideally suited to Oman’s climate and industrial demands.

1. Construction & Infrastructure Development

With major infrastructure projects underway — including airports, ports, residential complexes, and highways — Oman’s construction sector relies heavily on wire mesh for:

Concrete reinforcement: Welded wire mesh strengthens slabs, beams, and columns.

Façade cladding & safety barriers: Adds architectural flair while enhancing safety.

Scaffolding protection & temporary fencing: Lightweight yet strong site protection.

The government’s focus on modernizing public infrastructure ensures continued demand for reliable materials like wire mesh.

2. Agriculture & Farming Solutions

In Oman’s arid climate, managing livestock and protecting crops requires durable, weather-resistant materials. Wire mesh plays a vital role in agricultural operations through:

Animal enclosures and poultry cages

Crop protection fencing

Greenhouse shade netting and structural support

PVC-coated wire mesh is particularly popular for its longevity and ability to resist corrosion even under extreme heat and salinity.

3. Oil, Gas & Mining Applications

These core sectors of Oman’s economy operate in some of the country’s harshest environments. Wire mesh is integral in:

Filtration and separation units: Stainless steel mesh separates solids, liquids, and gases in processing systems.

Safety guards and equipment screens: Protects personnel and machinery.

Rockfall prevention and mine reinforcement: Heavy-duty mesh secures slopes and ceilings in mining operations.

Wire mesh offers the resilience needed to withstand high pressure, abrasion, and chemical exposure.

4. Marine & Coastal Infrastructure

With Oman’s extensive coastline and growing investments in ports and maritime services, wire mesh serves several essential purposes:

Coastal security fencing and barriers

Fish farming enclosures

Saltwater-resistant filtration systems

Stainless steel and hot-dip galvanized mesh excel in high-humidity and salt-laden environments, delivering long-term performance without degradation.

5. Food Processing & Commercial Kitchens

As Oman’s food production sector scales up to meet domestic and export demand, hygiene and safety are critical. Wire mesh supports this growth through:

Drying racks and trays for food processing

Ventilation screens and grease filters

Rodent-proof barriers and food-safe dividers

Food-grade stainless steel mesh is compliant with health regulations, easy to clean, and built to last.

Your Wire Mesh Partner in Oman — Al Miqat Hardware

At Al Miqat Hardware, we understand the dynamic requirements of Omani industries. We offer:

✅ A wide selection of wire mesh types: Stainless steel, galvanized, PVC-coated, and welded ✅ Custom sizes and specifications for any application ✅ Fast, reliable delivery across Oman — including Muscat, Sohar, Salalah, and Duqm ✅ Expert consultation to ensure the perfect match for your project

📞 Call us: +971 6566 4526 🌐 Visit: www.almiqathardware.com 📩 Email: sales@almiqathardware.com

Conclusion

As Oman advances toward economic diversification and industrial growth, wire mesh has become a vital material in sectors ranging from urban development to oil refining and agriculture. Its combination of strength, adaptability, and resistance to environmental extremes makes it an essential resource for long-term success.

Choosing the right wire mesh today isn’t just about meeting current project needs — it’s an investment in durability and operational efficiency for years to come.

Trust Al Miqat Hardware for dependable, high-performance wire mesh solutions tailored to Oman’s unique industrial landscape.

[ervotica]

First, congrats on 2k! It is well deserved.

Second, for the kink wheel: sharing, with JJ Maybank and topper Thornton? If you’re not cool with those two, I’m also okay with Rafe and Topper 😉

i'm gunna do rafetopper for this particular one just because i have a very specific scenario in mind i feel suits them better, but feel free to send me another jj and topper one baby!!

warnings; poly!rafetopper x reader, dark!rafe + soft!dark!topper, drug use (r is explicitly stated to have done coke, rafe is sorta implied), heavy petting, making out, no actual smut but it is implied, 18+ only

a/n; oh this is sooo... i love them. pls pls i am BEGGING for requests of these two now they're sexy asf

Thick fingers curl around the circumference of your ribcage, peeling slick lips away from his own; you preen angrily at Rafe beneath you, jerking your chin indignantly when he reaches towards your face to anchor your gaze to his own.

"How aren't you tired, hm? Been at this for far too long, kid."

You bounce on your bum, rocking back on your heels where you're perched upon Rafe's lap on the couch; you're smacking away the hands that work to push you to the edge of his knees, effectively drawing you away from his kiss-bitten lips.

"You're done. You're cut off," he grouses, vexed stare meeting Topper's when he hooks two hands beneath your armpits and lifts you off of Rafe's lap. "Fuckin' take her. She's fuckin' relentless. Brat."

"Hey!" you whine, already squirming at the digits curling at the dip of your waist, drawing you into a different - but just as familiar - chest.

"Easy," Topper laughs, amusement tugging at the corners of his lips when you push yourself up onto tiptoes in voyage for a kiss. He grants your wish, taken aback at the way your lips slant hungrily over his own, but pulls away far too soon to quirk a brow at Rafe accusingly.

"Why is the kid vibrating out of her skin?" he asks, a crooked finger pointing at the older boy. "What'd you give her?"

Rafe rolls his eyes, disinterest oozing from his every pore when his thighs spread, lounging back on the couch. "Jus' gave her some blow. It's not a big deal, Top."

By this point you're clambering up Topper's front, elbows hooked tightly around his neck as you attempt to climb and secure your legs around him. Perspiration clings to your neck, clammy when Topper's palm comes to rest there and his other arm loops under your bum until you're lifted up and into his grasp.

"It is a big deal!" he grumbles. "She's gonna be wired all fuckin' night, now."

"Why'd you always do this?" you trill wetly, head dipping to mouth at the curve of Topper's jaw. "I didn't do anything!"

"'s not your fault, baby," Topper assents, planting himself on the other end of the couch; you shuffle forward in his lap, lips spilling into a pout as you chase his mouth once again.

He's soon lost in it, dazed from the feeling of your mouth suckling at him, manicured nails scratching at the sensitive skin at his nape. The only sound Rafe can focus on is the smacking of spit-slick lips, Topper's groan and your gentle mewl when his tongue ventures further, licking into your mouth.

"That's enough," Rafe gripes, one roughened hand slipping beneath your miniskirt to swat at the dimpled flesh of your bum. "Give her back now."

Topper pulls back, heaving, to glare daggers at the other boy. "No way. I just got her!"

"Seriously, just let me have her."

"No-"

Their voices begin to mesh and blend into one cacophony of noise, and you're frowning when Rafe's hands settle against the jut of your hipbones to snatch you away. He doesn't give you time to begin a string of petulant complaints, lips ensnaring your own in a fervent act of pure lust. You go pliant and soft, allowing your lips to part and make room for the wet muscle of his tongue that prods at the opening of your mouth, vying for entrance.

"Attagirl," he murmurs, a sweaty palm cupping the side of your face to draw you closer, other hand pinching at one pert nipple through the flimsy material of your shirt.

He pulls away to admire your half lidded eyes, clouded over with need as you absentmindedly rut yourself into Rafe's lap, tent in his pants growing by the second.

"Let's take her home. How does that sound?" Rafe asks.

For the first time that evening, the two boys are in agreement.

[lsunstreakerl]

more darkbull charles! 1.2k words, with a little feature from pierre and esteban!

again: this is the darkbull verse, nobody here is healthy or well adjusted. mature/implied mature content below the line.

Charles frowns as he peers inside the pantry. He knows things haven't been great for Pierre and Esteban- but to have such a terrible fresh fish selection in the fridge and the worst available pasta brand in their pantry- ugh.

He makes a mental note to get money wired to their account as he steps back out. Really, he should be checking in on them more anyways, he's just been so busy.

Busy with Ferrari, busy with the business, busy trying to get Max's motorhome tapped without anyone noticing. It's a lot of moving pieces.

It would be much easier if he could actually talk to Max, get invited back to his room for a chat, but-

He curls his lip in disgust. Max is never alone.

It's impossible to catch him without a fucking watchdog nearby, a team member or otherwise. It's starting to drive Charles a little bit crazy, but it's not their worst offense.

Charles has a list of grievances with Redbull, but the very top, the one that makes his blood boil-

They're greedy.

They always have their hands on Max somewhere, fingers wrapped around his wrists, arms slung around his waist, palms over his thighs, hands wrapped around his neck-

He forces himself to uncurl his fingers. He'll fix it. Max only needs all that contact because his soul is alone, missing its other half. Once he's with Charles, he'll realize he doesn't need all the extra, doesn't need a whole crews worth of people manhandling him like they own him.

Charles will be enough.

He'll have to be careful about Daniel and Carlos though. As much as he'd like to send both of them to the bottom of the harbor, Max is attached to them. Charles knows why- the whole grid knows why. It's a joke made quietly in the security of team headquarters, where no one will hear it. It's a perk of being a Redbull driver-

If you make the team, you get a fast car. You get good upgrades, a whip smart engineering team, mechanics that work day in and day out to function as a seamless team. You get guidance and coaching.

If you make the team, you get to fuck Max.

It's not explicitly stated, but they all know it's true. Max meshes so well with Daniel and Carlos, and it's no secret that the team has struggled to maintain a fourth driver.

There's something about the way Max will settle between the two of them at a bar, loopy and tipsy, blush on his cheeks, metal glinting on his wrists and around his neck.

They make room so easily for him, lay their hands on him like he belongs to them-

Charles is grinding his teeth. He takes a few slow breaths to steady himself. Keeping his composure is vital. It's one of the things he's been chided on recently, something he needs to work on.

He stretches, feels the sting along his spine of the most recent star, added between his shoulder blades.

They're coming in fast, inked into his skin forever, a permanent link to Ferrari.

It's all Charles has ever wanted.

Well- Ferrari and Max. He's well on his way to one, which means it's time to start moving on the other, which is exactly why he's sitting here in Pierre and Esteban's apartment, waiting for them to get home.

He sighs, making his way into their bedroom. Pierre is his friend, and he certainly doesn't want to have to leverage Esteban- it's because of Charles that he's in Formula 1 at all. His family is well taken care of in Italy.

Pierre is smart, and Charles really does want to keep their friendship. At least, as close to a friendship as Charles has.

He settles into the middle of their bed, back leaned against the headboard, and starts methodically disassembling and cleaning his gun.

------

Pierre narrows his eyes when they get to the door, pushing Esteban behind him.

"Did you lock the door behind you?"

Esteban leans his head over his shoulder.

"Yes? I did not grow up very well off, I understand the importance of locking the door, you know this."

Pierre feels his boyfriend's hand tighten around his waist.

"Why? Pierre, it's not unlocked- is it?"

"Just- stay behind me."

Pierre carefully pushes the door open. Their kitchen light is on, and there's soft classical music playing from their bedroom.

On the one hand- it's not a stranger that's broken into their home.

On the other hand- it's Charles, which might actually be worse, considering the contract Pierre just signed.

He takes a slow breath, turning to kiss Esteban.

"I love you, you know that?"

Esteban's eyes are wide where he's looking at him, hand gently brushing over the side of his face.

"I know. Forever."

Pierre leans their heads together.

"Forever."

Esteban nods at him as he interlaces their fingers, and then they're walking towards the bedroom. Charles on his own is not exactly a death sentence-

But normally he calls ahead.

To be here, in their home, in their bedroom-

He's sending a message. He's reminding them that he owns their building, owns their city, owns the homes their families live in.

Charles has told Pierre they're friends. Pierre doesn't think a man like Charles knows how to have a friend. Maybe when they were younger, sure.

Now though? Charles operates in a different world from the rest of them.

Pierre lifts his chin high as he steps into his own bedroom, tries not to flinch at the way Charles is lounging on their bed, smoothly reassembling his gun.

Charles grins up at him, dimples flashing. It's meant to put Pierre at ease, but all it does is the exact opposite.

"Calamar! Please, come sit."

Charles pats the edge of Pierre's bed, and he tries to ignore the cold slide of sweat down the back of his neck as he settles.

Esteban quietly lowers himself down as well, keeping Pierre between him and Charles.

Charles slides the last pieces of his gun together with a smooth snick, but it might as well be a gunshot with the way it echos in Pierre's ears.

"Pierre. You have signed with Toro Rosso, yes?"

Pierre swallows.

Nods.

Charles is still smiling.

"Good, good. I know they have..."

Charles wobbles his hand in a back and forth motion, lights glinting off the rings on his fingers.

"A thing. About their drivers and Max."

Pierre feels Esteban squeeze his fingers tighter on his left side, where Charles can't see.

"I had heard that, yes."

Charles leans forward, gun resting in his lap.

"I trust our friendship means more to you than fitting in."

Pierre's throat is dry. He needs to mesh well with the team, and being a Redbull driver could set him up for years.

But this isn't about him, not really. It's only tangentially about Redbull.

At its core, this is about Max.

Redbull's Max.

Charles' Max.

Part of him wonders if Redbull has any idea about Charles. If they have even a single warning sign.

Charles always gets what he wants, in the end.

"Of course, Calamar. I wouldn't dream of ruining our friendship over a seat like that."

The lie is thick on his tongue.

[vmsplusblog]