#Ceramic Sand (for Casting Use)

[spookysaladchaos]

Global Top 5 Companies Accounted for 74% of total Ceramic Sand (for Casting Use) market (QYResearch, 2021

Ceramic Foundry Sand, technically named as “Fused Ceramic Sand for Foundry”, also named as ceramite, is good spherical grain shape which is made from calcined bauxite. Its main content is aluminum oxide, and it is processed by melting, blowing, sieving and blending. Ceramic sand, has much better properties than that of silica sand to gain a better performance in foundry. It has high refractoriness, stable inert characteristics, excellent flowability, intrinsic hardness and wear resistance.

Ceramic Foundry Sand has the following characteristics:

The thermal expansion coefficient of ceramic sand is very low, which is similar to zircon sand. Using the Ceramic Foundry Sand to make moulds and cores, the veins and other expansion defects of castings are eliminated;

Because of the great spherical shape of the particle, Ceramic Foundry Sand has good flowability and easy to fill in. The moulds and cores are of high permeability and easy to shakeout after casting;

By using Ceramic Foundry Sand, 30-50% of the binder consumption can be saved with the smooth surface and substantial structure;

Ceramic Foundry sand is a neutral and inert material, so it can be used in acid and alkali binders systems, also adapt to various alloys;

Ceramic Foundry Sand has high refractoriness and good stability. It is especially suitable for the production of complexity sand cores and steel castings;

It has wide particle size, which can be combined and mixed arbitrarily to meet specific needs of customers;

Because of the high value of Moh’s Harness and spherical shape, Ceramic Foundry Sand has good recycling performance and low crushing ratio, so it can be easily reclaimed by many methods.

In 2020, the global Ceramic Sand (for Casting Use) market size was US$ 169.10 million and it is expected to reach US$ 251.65 million by the end of 2027, with a CAGR of 5.39% between 2021 and 2027.

The data for 2021 is an estimate, based on the historical data and the integrated view of industrial experts, manufacturers, distributors, and end users, etc.

Top-down and bottom-up approaches are used to validate the global Ceramic Sand (for Casting Use) market size and to estimate the market size for company, regional division, product type and application (end users). In the complete market engineering process, both top-down and bottom-up approaches along with several data triangulation methods have been extensively utilized to perform market estimation and market forecast for the overall market division and subdivision listed in this report. Extensive qualitative and further quantitative analysis has also been done from all the numbers arrived at in the complete market engineering process to list key information throughout the report.

According to the new market research report “Global Ceramic Sand (for Casting Use) Market Report 2023-2029”, published by QYResearch, the global Ceramic Sand (for Casting Use) market size is projected to reach USD 0.27 billion by 2029, at a CAGR of 4.1% during the forecast period.

Figure.   Global Ceramic Sand (for Casting Use) Market Size (US$ Million), 2018-2029

Figure.   Global Ceramic Sand (for Casting Use) Top 5 Players Ranking and Market Share（Based on data of 2021, Continually updated）

The global key manufacturers of Ceramic Sand (for Casting Use) include CARBO Ceramics, Kailin Foundry, Itochu Ceratech, Sanmenxia Qiangxin, Jingang New Materials, Henan Jinnaiyuan, CMP Group, Company 8, Company 9, Company 10, etc. In 2021, the global top five players had a share approximately 74.0% in terms of revenue.

About QYResearch

QYResearch founded in California, USA in 2007.It is a leading global market research and consulting company. With over 16 years’ experience and professional research team in various cities over the world QY Research focuses on management consulting, database and seminar services, IPO consulting, industry chain research and customized research to help our clients in providing non-linear revenue model and make them successful. We are globally recognized for our expansive portfolio of services, good corporate citizenship, and our strong commitment to sustainability. Up to now, we have cooperated with more than 60,000 clients across five continents. Let’s work closely with you and build a bold and better future.

QYResearch is a world-renowned large-scale consulting company. The industry covers various high-tech industry chain market segments, spanning the semiconductor industry chain (semiconductor equipment and parts, semiconductor materials, ICs, Foundry, packaging and testing, discrete devices, sensors, optoelectronic devices), photovoltaic industry chain (equipment, cells, modules, auxiliary material brackets, inverters, power station terminals), new energy automobile industry chain (batteries and materials, auto parts, batteries, motors, electronic control, automotive semiconductors, etc.), communication industry chain (communication system equipment, terminal equipment, electronic components, RF front-end, optical modules, 4G/5G/6G, broadband, IoT, digital economy, AI), advanced materials industry Chain (metal materials, polymer materials, ceramic materials, nano materials, etc.), machinery manufacturing industry chain (CNC machine tools, construction machinery, electrical machinery, 3C automation, industrial robots, lasers, industrial control, drones), food, beverages and pharmaceuticals, medical equipment, agriculture, etc.

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[h00f]

T4TM (Theseus4TheMinotaur)

lost wax cast bronze, patina & paste wax

2023

(process photos & info under cut <3)

my minotaur boy!! pls click on the photos for higher res! my thesis is focusing on trans men and creatures (how original ik) and this was last semester's final. i spent a lot of time looking at sculptures of the theseus/minotaur story, and yknow? a LOT of them are erotic! i'm pretty sure i saw some of them on tumblr a decade ago, and that's led to this now!

as you'll notice, the minotaur has a big t-dick! i wanted to give him breasts and an enlarged clitoris to present a very masculine trans figure. the boy on the bottom is also trans because i say so . the piece is about looking up to older, bigger, hairier trans men and seeing something awe-inspiring and beautiful. the minotaur was locked up by a cruel father for being different, and i think modern adaptations tend towards a sympathetic asterion (his name in one version)

making this piece was. so much effort. it took me about 3 months to get it all together - from clay model (plasticine) to 3D print to silicone mold to wax cast, and finally bronze pour into the shell mold. and then a TON of filing, sanding, dremel-ing, and various other metalworking techniques that probably took years off my life.

i started with sketches and made theeeeeee ugliest model ever:

then used a 3D scanner to get it digital, then spent a goooood month or two making him pretty in blender! then i spent an agonizing few weeks trying to get it print-ready, and fiiiiiinally did

^^^ an early resin printed draft of the model - you can see in the final that i added lots to theseus after some feedback, but sadly the nosering broke off every time i cast it so i just. let that be <3

then came the moldmaking, and then the wax dipping!! the yellow stuff is shell mold (ground up ceramic bits and algae soup, sticks to the wax, then silica sand in varying sizes on top) which gets the wax melted out, and bronze poured in!

then it's all metalworking, cutting stuff off, and working with hot metal. they don't tell you about all the bronze dust and how annoying it gets wearing a respirator AND goggles. but it is for me health, me boy. here's him all cleaned up before the patina:

and then i spray him down with various chemicals to make it "patina" (aka rust) in pretty colors. wait a few days, then apply paste wax to seal it and give it that shine!

then we get what you see above!!! the blue was actually unintentional, and i'm still not super sure why it looks that way.. but it's pretty so idc <3

thanks for reading!! if you ever have any bronze/casting questions, don't hesitate to message me! <3

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗜 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨

　　　　　　　　　𝒑𝒂𝒖𝒍 𝒍𝒂𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒆 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Paul finally gets the courage to say "I love you" for the first time.

WARNING: None.

REQUESTED?: Yes, on Wattpad.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Y/N's eyes slowly opened as she tried to adapt to the brightness of the space, rays of the morning sun completely entered through the window covered only by a thin curtain, keeping the room warm and comfortable.

The girl turned her head as she stretched lazily, a smile stretching across her cheeks as her eyes stopped on the face of her boyfriend, Paul, who was lying on his back, eyes closed and small snores coming from his half-open mouth.

Y/N shifted her body to the right, facing Paul while her head rested on his bicep, which served as her pillow every night she slept at his house.

Her eyes traveled over his face, which carried a relaxed expression. His long eyelashes rested on his tan cheeks, and his nose moved slightly from time to time, showing that his mind was immersed in some dream. Y/N felt like she could stay there all day, her left hand drawing small shapes on her boyfriend's bare chest.

After a few minutes of admiring him, the girl felt her hunger speak louder, sitting up slowly so as not to wake Paul, smiling in relief at not seeing him move even an inch, showing that he felt extremely calm and safe in her presence.

Y/N slowly got up from the bed, casting one last glance at Paul before starting her steps out of the room and towards the kitchen, her hands using the black hair tie on her wrist to tie her hair into a high ponytail.

The girl entered the kitchen, a yawn escaping her lips. She walked over to the small radio on the counter and played it, leaving it on the station she always listened to with Paul, turning down the volume a little so as not to disturb her boyfriend's sleep.

Y/N walked to the fridge and opened the door, vaguely observing the items inside, deciding to make a creamy scrambled egg with buttered bread and a fruit salad with yogurt, knowing that Paul felt hungrier than normal and a simple loaf of bread wouldn't sustain his stomach for more than 30 minutes.

She took what she was going to use, placing it on the sink and doing the same with the cabinet, organizing separately what she would use for each dish and starting to prepare breakfast.

With the bread already in the toaster and the water already heating for black coffee, the girl took a ceramic bowl and broke five eggs there, stirring them with a fork.

Sounds of footsteps echoed through the hallway between the bedroom and the kitchen, but it was imperceptible to Y/N, who was too focused on her action and the music coming from the radio.

Paul leaned his body against the threshold of the kitchen door, crossing his arms as his eyes admired his imprint preparing coffee for both of them while softly following the melody on the radio, a smile stretching across his cheeks at the scene so homely, free from weight and worry from all the chaos that has surrounded the supernatural beings of Forks over the last few months.

The opening whistle of the song "Home" by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros sounded through the room, catching Paul's attention. That song was considered one of the main songs of their relationship, as it played during the first bonfire that Y/N attended as Paul's companion. The memory of the two of them dancing together late at night, bare feet on the sand, surrounded by people they loved and lots of food was engraved in their minds.

The boy walked away from the door, going towards Y/N, who swayed her hips to the beat of the music as she passed the eggs to the frying pan on the stove.

Warm, strong arms surrounded the girl's waist, causing her to jump in place in fright, her right hand flying to Paul's arms while her left went to her chest, trying to calm her racing heart.

"You scared me!" Y/N said loudly, slapping weakly her boyfriend's arms, taking the spatula from the sink and stirring the eggs in the pan before it burns.

"Sorry, my love. Good morning." Paul responded in a whisper, resting his head in the crook of his girlfriend's neck, breathing in the natural scent of her skin and the body cream she had applied the night before after her shower. "Remember this song?"

"How can I forget? It's our song, it marked the beginning of our relationship." Y/N responded in a low voice, not wanting to burst the bubble that seemed to settle around them.

"Yes, I will never forget you dancing in that beautiful white dress that night, the bonfire behind you, and the smell of food in the air. Remembering that memory makes me love you even more." Paul commented with a goofy smile on his face, closing his eyes briefly, seeming to see the scene in front of him again.

Y/N's right arm, which was previously moving the spatula against the eggs, suddenly stopped, catching the boy's attention, who raised his face and moved so that he was next to his girlfriend, watching her with confused eyes.

"You love me?" She asked in a whisper, turning off the heat and dropping the spatula into the frying pan, turning around and facing him.

Paul replayed in his mind what he had said seconds ago, the understanding that he had said that he loved her flashed across his eyes, a nervous smile expanding on his face as his heart accelerated, fear settling in his chest.

"Yes, I love you." He revealed, knowing that was no coming back, looking at her closely, observing her reaction closely.

His heart warmed at the sight of his girl's eyes shining with tears as her mouth opened slightly in surprise, Y/N's right hand going to her own chest in disbelief.

"Oh Paul, I love you so much." She reciprocated, a tear escaping her eyes as she walked closer to her boyfriend, laying her head against his warm chest, her arms wrapping around his waist.

Paul sighed in relief, his eyes also filling with tears as he pulled Y/N closer, hugging her tightly.

"I've loved you since before I understood what that kind of love meant. The first time I saw you, I gave myself completely. When we kissed for the first time after you accepted me as yours, I became an addict and I knew that no one else could make me feel such an electric spark. Y/N, the moment I looked into your eyes for the first time, I knew I would follow you to the end of the world if necessary. And I don't say that because you're my imprint, my love for you goes far beyond that." Paul declared, pulling away slightly so he could look into his girlfriend's eyes, a huge smile decorating his features.

"Paul, it's not fair of you to make me cry at a time like this." Y/N muttered, her voice cracking with emotions. Paul brought his large hands to her face, wiping away the tears that wetted her flushed face. "I love you so much, I promise I'll be yours for the rest of our lives." She whispered, her heart overflowing with love, passion, and affection.

The boy bent down slightly, sealing his lips on hers in a slow kiss, full of the best feelings. A sigh escaped Y/N in pleasure, surrendering to the kiss and Paul's arms.

The sound of the wolf's stomach begging for food interrupted them. Y/N let out a laugh against Paul's lips, opening her eyes slowly and walking away, smiling big and turning to the stove again, going back to finishing breakfast for both of them.

Paul's arms remained around his girlfriend's body seeking contact and comfort, his heart warm, as their bodies moved slightly to the melody of the songs that sounded from the radio.

They felt like they could stay there forever, surrounded by the best feeling, love.

[drunkenlionwrites]

I am soooo happy you are taking requests. Finally, we're having more Vash content 😌

Can i ask for a fluff/smut about Vash finding out the reader is pregnant? Just imagine, he sees she is hiding something and is eager to know what is making her so anxious, then she tells him. He loves kids, I know he would be a good father. 😆😭

Thank you so much

Oh God I did it! I did iiit 😭 It was in my notes for weeks - being written and re-written, wiped and written anew again. Didn't know if would be this hard for me. But honestly? I like the result. It could be more ansty than I anticipated, but in the end Vash comforted us all, so it's all good and fine, right? Warnings: nsfw, soft smut, pregnancy, fem reader, angst, hurt/comfort, post-Trimax Vash :3 Word count: 2017

Seeds of Tomorrow

The kettle whistled low and pitiful on the stove, but you didn’t move to take it off the heat.

You sat at the small kitchen table, hands wrapped tight around a chipped ceramic mug, staring blankly at the dusty window. Outside, the golden light of late evening stretched long and thin across the sand, casting the world into warm hues you barely noticed.

The doctor’s words still rang in your ears. "Congratulations — you’re pregnant."

Pregnant. With Vash’s child. You didn’t even know it was possible. Neither did he. You thought you’ve just gotten sick and were prepared to get some medicine for stomach flu, yet you found yourself a future mother.

A trembling breath shuddered from your chest. You were happy - you were, but under the happiness was something much colder, much heavier: anxiety and fear. Gnawing, clawing fear.

How could you possibly carry a child whose blood wasn’t wholly human? Would your body even know how to protect them? Feed them? Would they grow too fast? Too slow? Would they hurt inside you without either of you knowing how to help?

Your mind spiraled faster than you could keep up with. And Vash…

Your gaze dropped to your hands, chest tightening until it hurt to breathe. Vash’s hair had been nearly black these days, streaked only lightly with blond now, causing you to check upon it feverishly, anxiously at night when he slept. What if this joy, this impossible miracle between you, came at the worst time? What if he vanished - if he used too much of himself again and disappeared like his brother had, leaving you stranded, carrying pieces of him inside you he’d never get to meet?

The kettle shrieked louder, a sharp painful note. You snapped out of it, raising up and reaching stove it two quick steps with hands fumbling, and yanked it off the stove, burning yourself on the hot handle.

“Damn it,” you hissed, squeezing your eyes shut against the sudden sting of tears, cradling your hand against your chest.

The front door creaked open a moment later. You heard the scuffle of boots against the worn rug, the soft thud of a bag being dropped by the door.

“Hey, sweetheart?” Vash’s voice drifted in  - warm, a little tired, but bright as ever. “Sorry I’m late. The farmer at the north fields wanted to show me his new water collector. You wouldn’t believe the…”

He stopped.

You didn’t dare turn. You knew what he’d see: your hunched shoulders, the way you clutched your burned hand, tears that just burst from your eyes.

“Hey,” he said again, softer now, closer. Boots padding across the floor. You squeezed your eyes shut tighter as you felt his hand brush your back, featherlight. “Angel… what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

You turned and crashed into him, the kettle clattering somewhere on the counter, forgotten. Vash caught you instantly, arms locking around you, warm and strong. His coat smelled like dry sun and soap, and the familiar scent made something inside you crack wide open.

For a moment, you just clung to him, sobbing into his chest while he stroked your hair and murmured soft, soothing nonsense you couldn’t even understand.

When you could finally find your voice, it came out small and broken. “I went to the clinic today.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, worry knitting his brows together. “What happened? Are you okay? Are you-?”

You cut him off with a trembling laugh and shook your head. “I’m… I’m pregnant, Vash. I’m pregnant.”

He blinked. For a heartbeat, he just stared at you like he couldn’t comprehend the words. Then the light broke over him - slow, stunned, then radiant.

"You... we..." His hands framed your face as if you were something holy. "You're carrying our child?" His voice broke slightly on the last word, rough with awe.

You nodded, new tears slipping free. But this time, they weren’t entirely from fear.

He laughed - a breathless, bright sound, and pressed his forehead to yours, squeezing you closer. His hands were shaking. "That's... that's incredible. That's..." He choked on another laugh, blinking rapidly. "I didn't know if we could… I didn't even know that was possible."

Neither did you. But even with his joy so palpable, the heavy fear coiled in your gut didn't ease.

Vash must have felt it, because when he pulled back again, really looked at you, his smile faltered.

"Something’s wrong?" he whispered. "Aren't you…glad?"

You couldn't lie. Not to him.

"I don't know what to do, Vash," you said, voice cracking. "I don't even know if my body can... can support this baby. I don’t know if they're going to be okay… if you're going to be okay-" You hiccuped, gripping the front of his shirt like a lifeline. "I’m scared of losing you. Of raising them alone. Of something happening to you. Your hair, Vash… your powers…"

He gathered you back into his chest, swaying slightly like he could rock your fears away.

"I'm not going anywhere," he murmured fiercely, kissing the top of your head. "I promise you. I swear on everything I am, I'm not leaving you. I'm not leaving them."

You shook your head against him. "But what if you use too much? What if you disappear like Knives?"

He caught your chin gently and tilted your head up to meet his gaze.

His blue eyes - somehow even older now, threaded with traces of sorrow and endless, endless love - held yours steady.

"I'm not him," he said quietly. "I know my limits now. I want to live." He smiled, that soft, aching smile he only ever gave to you. "You taught me how, remember?"

Fresh tears spilled down your cheeks.

"And if anything ever felt worth fighting for..." He trailed his fingers over your abdomen, reverently, wonderingly, though there was no bump yet, nothing visible. "...it’s this. You. This…family."

You pressed your forehead to his, closing your eyes, breathing him in.

You could feel the sincerity in every word. You could feel it in the way he held you like you were fragile and precious all at once. You could feel it in the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart against yours.

"I'll go with you to the clinic next time," he murmured against your hair. "We'll ask every question. We'll find out everything we can. We’ll figure it out together, okay?"

You nodded weakly.

"And if - if - anything is different about them, or about the pregnancy..." His voice shook slightly, but he pushed through it. "Then we'll find a way. Together."

You clutched him tighter. "I love you."

He huffed a soft, tear-choked laugh. "I love you too. More than anything."

The sun dipped below the horizon outside, leaving the kitchen bathed in soft, dusky light. And for the first time all day, the fear eased its grip enough to let in something else: hope.

Later, after dinner (which you barely tasted) and a bath (where he insisted on washing your hair with such gentle, reverent touches it nearly made you cry again), you found yourselves curled up together in bed.

The desert wind whistled low outside the window. The sheets smelled faintly of the two of you - sun-warmed cotton and Vash’s skin, a mix of clean soap and something deeper, something that had always smelled like home to you.

You lay on your side, facing him. Vash lay on his back, one arm tucked behind his head, the other stretched protectively to you. His hand rested carefully over your stomach, even though there was of course no visible change yet - just the barest promise of something new taking root inside you.

He kept his palm there, warm and steady, like he could shield the tiny life with just the strength of his will.

“You know,” he said softly, voice quiet, “I have never used to dream about this. About... a family. A home. Somewhere safe." He shifted slightly, glancing down at his hand, his thumb brushing mindlessly over your skin. "I never thought I’d actually get it.”

You nuzzled closer to him, your head tucking under his jaw. "I did," you murmured. "I always knew if anyone deserved it... it was you."

His arm tightened around you, pulling you flush against his side.

For a while, there was only the sound of your breathing, the rustle of the sheets, the steady drum of his heart under your ear.

Then he whispered, almost like he was afraid to disturb the fragile peace, "What do you think they'll be like?"

You smiled softly against his chest. "I think... if they have even half your heart, they'll be unstoppable."

He chuckled - a breathy, worn-out sound that you felt more than heard.

"And if they have your stubbornness," he teased lightly, trailing his fingers up your spine, "the world better watch out."

You laughed, but the sound caught in your throat when his hand smoothed back down, lingering at the small of your back, warm and grounding. His touch was tender, casual, domestic even, but it lit a slow-burning heat low in your belly.

Maybe it was the flood of emotions you’ve experienced throughout this day, or maybe it was the way he was looking at you now -  like you were the only thing existing in his entire world -  but you suddenly needed him closer.

You tilted your head up and kissed him.

It started gentle - a soft brush of mouths in the half-dark. But Vash made a small, helpless sound deep in his throat, and the dam between you cracked wide open.

He kissed you back like he was starving - like he was trying to memorize every inch of you with his mouth, as if it wasn’t already accomplished years ago.

His hand cupped your jaw, tilting your head just right, while his other arm wrapped firmly around your waist, hauling you over him.

You straddled his hips instinctively, your nightshirt riding up your thighs, baring you to the cool air and his feverish hands.

Vash broke the kiss only long enough to gasp, "Are you sure? We should be careful, I don't want to…"

You shut him up with another kiss, smiling against his mouth. "I'm sure. Please, Vash. I need you."

Something in him broke at your words.

He rolled you gently onto your back, settling between your thighs with a reverence that made your heart ache. Every touch, every kiss, was slow, deliberate - a silent litany of thank you, thank you, thank you.

He peeled your shirt up carefully, kissing every new inch of skin he exposed, worshiping you with lips and hands until you were trembling under him.

When he finally slid into you, it was almost overwhelming - the way he buried his face in your neck, the way he whispered your name like a prayer, the way he held you like he was terrified you might vanish if he let go.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t frantic.

It was home.

You clutched him close, your fingers threading through the black strands of his hair, grounding yourself in the solid, living heat of him. You whispered your own confessions and promises against his skin - how much you loved him, how much you believed in him, in this - and he shuddered and whispered them all back, voice thick with emotion.

When you finally broke together, it was quiet, overwhelming, a release that left you both clinging to each other with shaking limbs and wet cheeks.

Afterward, he stayed wrapped around you, his head resting over your heart, his palm splayed possessively over your belly again.

"You’re not alone," he mumbled sleepily. "You’ll never be alone. I swear."

You tangled your fingers in his hair and closed your eyes, letting his words anchor you.

The fear wasn’t gone. Maybe it never would be.

But with him breathing steady against you, his hand curled protectively around the tiny spark of life growing between you, you knew somehow, some way - you'd be okay.

[yiga-hellhole]

TFTK: CHAPTERS 21&22

Ghirahim copes with the aftermath of his conspiracy. What is a blade to do, without a hand to wield it?

I'VE kept you all waiting for quite a bit haven't i. well i'm making it up to you! 2 chapters in one go! one VERY big thank you to @bulgariansumo and @orfeoarte for betareading these. quite a bit happens in the aftermath of zant's betrayal... i'll let it speak for itself.

the promo art for these chapters was heavily inspired by, and is basically an homage, to Houseki no Kuni's volume 7 cover! HnK influences a lot of my writing tone and symbolism. i really recommend it!!

this chapter has a bonus of another new language... protogermanic! it's written in elder futhark. you'll have to wiktionary the rest! teehee! (it's not plot-relevant, just a little easter egg for you all!)

ao3 mirror

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16

CW for: graphic violence, toxic relationship, suicidal ideation (brief mention)

From the shadow of one colossal threat, into the other. This one weighed on him far heavier. Ghirahim stood in the cold dark of Zant’s chambers, for a moment, taking refuge in the first second before his eyes could adjust. Ever-so-indulgently, he blinked just a little longer than he had to, shrouding himself in the comfort of that shadowy blanket and shielding himself from what he would now have to undertake. When he opened his eyes again, he glared at the shape lying on the bed. When he strained his ears, he could hear a squeaky wheeze, little grunts of pain spotting through his breath. 

Perhaps he had been a little too optimistic, hoping for Zant to have succumbed in his absence. Ghirahim approached the bed, the injured Twili upon it heaving his blankets with his arduous breathing. Neither of them had noticed he was still holding the Demon Scimitar. What good would it have done, to be any more aware of that frivolous thing? Ghirahim could forget about any urge, any fantasy, of using it to pounce upon him and flay him where he lied. With every step closer, that little dagger all but shook in his hands, cheering to see its beloved alive, though not well. It exploded into a cloud of diamonds, each shred and particle snaking back into Ghirahim's core by a trail. Such bothersome affection was best left where he could keep watch of it, and lock it away, deep where he could no longer feel it. All until this rotten fool would recover, rip it from him, and drag him about by the strings of his weakness all over again, no doubt.

Six seconds. That was how long he spent in that chamber, up until that point, when a flash of light broke through the gaps in the curtains, and briefly cast the room in dim light. Another second and the thunderous roar of a massive impact followed. The whole castle shook, dust raining down from the ceiling, the contents of shelves jolting in place and tumbling to the floor, glass and ceramics shattering on the spot, and wooden furniture rattling on their legs. The screws from Zant’s canopy bed gave way. A curtain rod, drapes and all, dislodged from its place and bared the fallen Twilight King to the little light that made it through the windows.

The tremors subsided at last. All of the palace – no, the world, was eerily silent. Sand, carried across the desert by the shockwave, pelted against the outside walls and spewed through the curtains. Ghirahim approached the bed, grains crunching beneath his feet.

Peering at him through swollen eyelids, Zant turned his head ever so slightly. “Your last gambit, I take it?”

Ghirahim deigned to answer. A last gambit, indeed, but one he never wanted to play. Majora’s words rang in his head, clear as day.

“... use it wisely, for when the tides of war turn irreversibly against your favor.”

Oh, and how the tides had turned. In one fell swoop, Ghirahim had lost both the battle and his Master, both of these promises doomed for failure from the very start. By accepting Majora’s allegiance, all in the name of the pitiful man now lying wheezing before him, those very tides crashed into him again, only from a different angle. Now that he stood there, wave-beaten as he was, the water cleared from his eyes. He could see just how laughable of a trap he’d fallen for. In calling Majora to his aid, Ghirahim silently wondered whose hands he had played into.

Zant stammered through this silence. It seemed he could not go a single minute without ushering his little plans along. “We cannot stay here. In the next few hours, those taking refuge in the dungeons will free themselves from their barricades and swarm through the Palace. If they find us–”

“Our lives will not remain secret” Ghirahim interrupted. “I get it. You want me to find some alternate place, yes? Or, even more probable, you already know exactly where you want to go?”

Zant averted his gaze. If Ghirahim didn’t know any better, he’d think it was an expression of guilt. Though, a playful one, like that of a prankster caught in the middle of their schemes. It may as well have been, to a man like him. 

“Do you remember… That ruined little village in the woods?” Zant asked, finally.

“I do.” 

Questions he once would have freely blurted out with a wry smile now refused to move, lodged somewhere in his throat by their barbs. They buzzed in place, instead, like cicadas stuck in their husks. Was there even a single house intact? Would such shabby lodging truly be up to his standards? But to return to such banter, nothing would feel more unnatural. In choosing to remain with this man, his capricious yet determined self was cut off from whatever steered him now. 

So Ghirahim stood and said nothing further; simply stared.

Zant took his silence as a prompt to continue. “I spied one house on the outskirts, I believe, that could at least shelter us until I recover. I was considering our base at Eldin, first, but I do not trust it to be properly deserted. For the time being, if you could take us there…”

“Yes. Fine.” Zant’s words were full of implicit little meanings as usual. Teleport us there. Clear the coast. Bring bandages. Bring bedding. Steal whatever food you think we can use. Take every God-damned thing that you value because we are not coming back. And don’t get caught. 

Once, he thought reading into his every word was a skill, a convenience that made the two of them more efficient than any other pair. How awfully intrusive it felt now! As if Zant, instead, wormed his way into his mind, and commandeered him as he pleased!

Ghirahim’s arms hooked under the fold of Zant’s knees and around his shoulders all the same, cradling the injured man to his chest. To let that line of thought go any further was to suspect a past weakness where he had once seen strength. He thoroughly had enough of those today. To dig any deeper, to realize –

Zant’s head slumped to the side, burying his face in the nape of Ghirahim’s neck. He was burning up. Of all the wounds he’d sustained that day, one of them was bound to fester. Ghirahim supposed he would have to snatch some coriander along the way for a tincture or two, and –

Oh, Hell. 

—

Their arrival at the abandoned town had been uneventful. War was raging on beyond the treeline, miles and miles away, but in this forest, the simple cycle of life and death turned and turned along as though the world had been quiet. Birds rooted around in piles of fallen leaves for their morsels, bucks bellowed for their harems further out in the woods, and rodents hurried for cover, away from these strange new arrivals, as though they’d been the only disturbance for years. It felt thoroughly undeserved. Ghirahim’s life was on fire. It would only have been fair for this place to feel its cinders, too. 

But if everything was judged by his standard of fairness, he never would have left Ganondorf’s side. Zant would have been wearing his usual stupid, blindly loyal smile beside them both, and they would have Hyrule’s ashes stomped to coals beneath their feet. Instead, Ghirahim stood inside the last standing house of this village, surrounded by bare necessities. Zant lay in a makeshift cot, sweating a fever away tucked in the shadows of the room. Finding a spot for him had been a bit of a challenge. The place was littered with uncovered windows and a hole in the roof let in a persistent beam of sunlight even if he managed to fashion some curtains. Ghirahim sat against the wall across the Twili, face buried in the comfort of his favorite cloak. Termites and lichen made their home in the logs pressed against his back – how this place hadn’t collapsed along with the rest of the village, Ghirahim couldn’t say. Zant would probably have some long-winded theory about it all, but if he heard even another squeak out of that man before sundown, he wouldn’t hold himself responsible for whatever happened next.

And night did fall, after hours spent in nothing but solitude. Ghirahim sporadically flitted about the house, passing through like a ghost. Through the windows, the forest’s naked branches clacked in the wind like the dead waving their skeletal arms. One way or the other, he supposed the memory of those he wiped from the face of the earth in Gerudo Desert, sent its regards. But the Desert was far behind them now, their belongings scattered across the floor or bundled up in chests throughout the little house. They would not return. 

Ghirahim sat outside as the sun sank below the treeline, poking at the cinders of a fire pit he’d set up a little ways from their shelter. The night air was a little easier out in the open, without the soft sounds of suffering keeping him so dreadfully on edge. To sit by Zant, with so many accusations to sling at him but no motivation to do so, filled him with such a terrible thunder. He couldn’t stand another minute in there with him. 

Of course, he was enraged at Zant. Somehow, that maniac had managed to deceive a Demon, and, with how Ghirahim so piteously carried him to safety, had gotten away with it, too. It was infuriating, as much as it tore his heart to pieces. They had loved each other then, and though Ghirahim had let it shatter, the shards of this love still remained within him.

Zant meant no harm to him, this he knew. But what the Twili did not seem to get through his thick skull was that in threatening his Master, that threat extended to his most loyal blade. 

What other choice did Ghirahim have, though? He didn’t have the authority to be selfish, but deep inside himself, he cherished that wish, still, to have his true purpose fulfilled in the hands of his Master. Removed so far from Him now, for the first time, Ghirahim confronted his wish head-on. He could not bear dying a second time, without his true purpose fulfilled. So, even if this incarnation of Demise would not wield him, he could at least try to live on, and wait for the next. The only way to safeguard that childish desire now, was to remain hidden away, by Zant’s side.

Plop. Plop. Plop. Something was close to burning in the pot he was tending to. Bubbles rose through the thick liquid and popped into tufts of steam at its tawny surface. He took the pot, but a little rattle behind him urged him to turn before he could return to the cabin. Yet the ruined village around them was quiet, his idle scrying sensing nothing out of place. Dismissing the disturbance as another quirk of his agitation, he kicked a serving of sand over the smoldering ashes of the fire pit and headed back inside.

Zant sat propped up in his bed. His hand was raised to his face in a puckish, half-hearted attempt to conceal that he had been poking at his stitches mere seconds earlier. Ghirahim ignored those silly traits and handed him a bowl.

Raising shaky hands, his scarred ear straining to twitch, Zant took the bowl with surprise. Wide eyes peered inside. “I… Did not know you could cook.”

Ghirahim curled his lip, offended both by his carefree attempt at small-talk and at the underestimation of his abilities. “I am Demon Lord. I hold encyclopedic knowledge spanning thousands of years, and you think I wouldn’t know how to prepare a simple gruel?”

“... Forgive me for inquiring,” Zant mumbled, bringing the bowl to his parched lips. 

A moment of silence passed between them, with Ghirahim again hunched down against the far wall. Sitting there, staring at Zant somewhat struggling to feed himself through tremoring hands and an injured throat, became quickly unbearable. 

Ghirahim was tending to one of his daggers, a leather case full of them beside him, when Zant interrupted their silence again. “I must say, Ghirahim… I did not expect you to want to care for me, as grateful as I am for it. I remain a little jarred.”

Ghirahim furrowed his brows. Rose from his seat, made his way over to the cot and loom over the wicked thing nesting there. “Simple. It would be inconvenient if you died now. I have put everything on the line for you, Zant, and to let you perish from something as simple as a fever would mean I’ve wasted valuable time. I’m a deserter now, thanks to you,” Ghirahim hissed, looking down on him from beside his bed. “Do you understand? You owe me everything.”

Zant for a moment seemed intimidated. A long, spindly form, normally so towering, sat folded in on himself more fragile than a newborn bird. He blinked up at him with his big eyes, before resigning himself to nursing his bowl of food. “I know, Ghirahim. I know. And you shall get it. All in due time…”

That was how Ghirahim spent hours. Days. Cleaning bandages and watching a traitor eat porridge. Oh, Demise Mercy. He must have been defective. The both of them, fools locked in a little hut, each robbed of their sound minds. Back in the Palace, Ghirahim must have knocked the last sense out of Zant when pummeling him for his transgressions, or he would have realized the idiocy of his plans by now. In that same vein, he himself must have had his reasoning beaten out from him with the hammering of steel. Otherwise, he never would have tagged along. The Demon King was not an enemy one could meet in any way other than prostrated, begging for a quick end. Yet here he was, persuaded to betray him, head-on.

This exact line of thought repeated ad nauseum in his mind nigh every hour of every day. Either Ghirahim would hush it with some excuse, or let its flame run its course, quietly, yet viciously, behind dark eyes aimed straight at his conspirator. Today was one such day of well-contained rage, tempered as he tended to the last of Zant’s injuries. Despite the many ills he would wish upon the man in his darkest hours, Zant’s health was indeed improving, leaving only lethargy and persistent pains, both of which motivated his loud complaints. 

And how he cursed this recovery. Every bit of care sparked an affectionate streak in the Twili. Zant spent what little energy he could spare on conveying his gratitude, carefully at first, but growing ever more bold. Ghirahim flinched from his touch in these early hours, until it angered him, swatting his hands away at the slightest provocation. But at the first solid contact, the laying of those pallid fingers on his false skin, he realized he was powerless. 

He had missed it. Ghirahim craved to be touched by him. It was the closest thing to a disease he had ever felt.

There could have been many things that made him stay. It could have been Zant’s bizarre kindness, his devotion, and all their fond memories. But above all, Ghirahim was a Blade. He followed power. Even when laying there, too ill to move, there was a spark of determination in Zant’s eyes. A deep grudge that had rested in smoldering tar until finally ignited, burst into flame deep within the Twili, and would not cease burning until he got what he wanted. Zant had died not once, but twice, and came clawing out his grave with the same deathly resolve each time. Narrowly escaping death a third time, the fire still lit in his soul proved it. There would be nothing stopping that man from taking Hyrule, promised by his expression alone. How horrifyingly familiar it was.

So Ghirahim allowed it. All of it, his affection, his schemes, and his weakness, as Zant lay there shallowly breathing. Even in the chance his comparison was false. His captor, his usurper, had trapped Ghirahim so thoroughly by his side that there was no choice but to remain. And through his efforts, past something so cruel, Ghirahim loved him still. Zant would take everything the Demon King ever had, starting with His blade.

As Ghirahim lamented this, he loomed over him, tugging the stitches out of a freshly sealed scar. Out of all moments, Zant thusly decided to be possessed by another one of his honey-eyed fits. He reached his hand – a little steadier this time, but hesitant, still – to Ghirahim’s face, to trace a thumb along the blemished skin of his cheek.

Only to recoil. Zant tested again, running his thumb along the little dimples left by Darunia’s hammer. “Did I do this, Ghirahim? In convincing you to betray your Master, did I damage you?”

Before Ghirahim could get past his perturbation and respond, Zant looked at him intently. His hand flat on his jaw, Zant spoke gravely. “If I cannot do this without hurting you, I have already failed. You are a collateral I cannot accept. I wouldn’t forgive myself, and, by the Sols, would not expect you to either.” 

Pallid hands found his own. Zant stroked past his fingernails, talons that they were, beneath his gloves. He guided this hand, and pointed its nails at his heart. “Tell me, then, if I am to blame, and, should you wish it, to repay my crime against you… Kill me.”

Ghirahim paused. For a moment, he indulged the thought. He imagined rooting past his ribcage and ripping out whatever strange, beating organ lay beneath. Only to find the appeal fall flat. If he had any cheer in him, he would have had to stifle a laugh at this bizarre request. He must think I’m stupid, he thought. It’s a bluff. He knows I’m in too deep to conspire against him. 

Pathetic, wretched man. Is this the only way he knows how to express love? Empty threats on his own life, gored upon my blade?

“Don’t go on such ridiculous tangents,” Ghirahim said, wrenching his hand free. “It was Darunia.” He turned his back on him, then said no more. 

Silence fell, one of the many unbearable ones they kept on having inside this house. Without looking back once, Ghirahim made for the door.

Zant interrupted him, right as he placed his hand on the door handle. “... Ghirahim, please-”

“Please, what?” Ghirahim snapped, glaring at him over his shoulder. “After everything you’ve already taken from me, you have the nerve to ask any more from me? What could you possibly want?”

Zant startled. “This is what I mean! Do you intend to sit and simmer in silence for the entirety of our cooperation? You are bursting at the seams with unsaid frustrations, and yet, you remain with me. So do us both this favor and hurl whatever you have bottled up in there my way. Clearly, this tension benefits neither of us!”

Ghirahim froze. Did it truly take this many days for Zant to wonder? Was it so inconceivable to him, up until this point, that anger would remain? The urge to snap at him was irresistible. He pushed the small crack in the door he’d pulled open back shut with far more vigor than necessary, and whipped himself around.

“You wish to hear it? Fine. I’m astounded I even have to spell it out for you. Aren’t you so smart? So cunning? You’ve ruined my life!” Ghirahim shouted, stomping his way to the center to the room. “Every chance I’ve had in this war, to build my reputation, to bond myself to my Master, you’ve sabotaged. With your ridiculous plots, your manipulative little distractions. And then, oh so merrily, you lay there on your deathbed and say, you intended to have the one man that matters to me, killed!? What a terrible fate you’ve strung me up with!”

In all technicalities, it was impossible for Ghirahim to run his voice ragged. In his frustration, it still had. His words tumbled out of him moreso than he spoke them, tripping over hitches and bumps on their way out. “By all means, ‘sitting and simmering’ is the most charitable thing I could do to you. I ought to tear you limb from limb and feed you to the pigs!”

Ghirahim heaved breaths through clenched teeth, fast-paced in his rage, but gradually slowing. Before him, Zant looked petrified. How cathartic! To cause him even the slightest fraction of pain, after he himself was hurt so deeply! 

But as much as it soothed him, the sight also fizzled out his drive. Ghirahim knew he couldn’t tear into him forever. So, his hackles going slack, he resigned himself to solemn reasoning. He looked at him bitterly as he spoke. “But I won’t. Because what good would it do me? You’ve made sure every home I ever had in this wretched time is burned to the ground, and every ally, gone with it. You give me no choice but to go along with your schemes. I’m trapped in here with you, so I will act as damned frustrated with the part as I please.”

Throughout his outburst, Zant had cowered, his eyes wide and on the verge of tears. He’d looked hurt, like for once his plans weren’t packing out the way he expected. This changed when Ghirahim’s temper grew calmer – where Ghirahim’s resolve faded, Zant’s grew. His eyes narrowed, his lips drew to a tight line, and his back straightened. Zant looked thoughtfully down at his hands in his lap. “I see. So you think you are blameless in all this?”

“Don’t you dare –”

Zant’s face snapped up towards him, once again freezing him inside that all-consuming gaze. “No, no. Ghirahim, you act as though I’ve forced your hand at every turn through this. I must make one thing crystal clear to you, it seems.”

Zant took a deep breath, his eyes closed, and sighed it back out. His patience gathered, he spoke. “When Ganondorf first summoned me, Ghirahim, I was ready to die. I had been since Cia resurrected me, too. And though I indeed intended to stray from Ganondorf, it was only ever a wishful thought.” His tone grave at first, he soon grew wistful. “Had you not accompanied me, my Blade, and showed me the vastness of this world, I would not have wanted to remain in it. I would have lost myself to a drone-like state and fought to the death without aim, as I had before.”

“And,” Zant said, eyes aimed straight at his core. “Had you not taught me swordsmanship, had you not given me our scimitar, I would not have become as strong as I am now.”

Ghirahim could see it now. The full extent of the trap he’d fallen into. Strings intertwined. Each bound by their wrists, twisted and tangled. Forcing each other closer, and closer, until their laced fingers tied together and soaked red with the blood on their hands.

Zant saw the moment the dots connected behind his eyes. Despicably so, he almost looked smug. “So face it. We have sculpted each other like this, for better or for worse. You chose to return to me. On Death Mountain, in the Temple of Souls, and even after I revealed my deceit to you, you came to me of your own accord. Do not dare blame me for the impulses of your own heart.”

All throughout Zant’s words, Ghirahim felt a storm brewing inside his chest. Thunder threatened, rolled, deep within, until at long last, it snapped free at such simple words. 

“My heart?” Ghirahim scoffed, grit his teeth. The elation of his next words nearly sent him into delirium. He glared at him madly, wearing an incredulous smile. “I do not have one!”

Somehow, a statement of truth evoked instant distress in Zant. His eyes went wide along with the cracking of his temper. Biting his lip, huffing almost childishly through his nostrils, Zant reverted to his old ways with tears beading in his eyes. 

“Why must you always quarrel with me?” Zant whimpered, composure finally gone. “I saw you exploited, in danger, and I took you with me. I cannot deny you your nature as a blade, this I know. B-but even then, all I wanted was to place you in safer hands!”

Ghirahim’s expression, on the other hand, did not change. He folded his arms, his nails digging into his skin even through the cover of his gloves. Fabric nearly creaked beneath his grip, straining at the seams. The stupidity of it all was almost enough to pacify him. Keep him safe? A living weapon, in time of war? Zant was a little boy living in his own reverie. 

Ghirahim was at once disappointed with this spineless response. He sighed. Narrowed his eyes, then growled his next words. “Then you failed.”

Zant bared his teeth, similarly balling his fists. “Perhaps I may have. But in banishing us, Ganondorf, too, forced us into this fate. If it had otherwise meant dooming you to scrap, then my conscience is spotless.”

He felt the corner of his lip twitch with involuntary rage at this. Such a presumptuous face was just begging for a fist to be planted square in the middle of it. Ghirahim wanted to step forward, to grab him by the collar of his nightgown and rattle the mess of his brain some more, but a different part of him begged for him to be reasonable. 

Ghirahim would never get the chance to wrestle past whatever held him back. Before he could set another step, a tremor shook him to a standstill. At once, the gentle, golden rays seeping in through the ceiling cracks turned red. Not the warm vermillion of sundown, but rather, a sickly crimson, stifling every other bit of light like a bloody fog. At once, the woods around them turned dead quiet. Not a leaf dared to rustle. Then, another tremor, rattling the rusty nails in the floorboards and shaking dust loose from the ceiling. At once, Ghirahim felt it. Deep in his soul, a roar and a magnetic pull, urging him to flee the house. Yet, he remained frozen in place.

Zant looked up, peering intently out what little window he could see. He whispered.

“Ganon.”

Ghirahim did not notice when he stepped into Zant’s range, but he must have, because a hand suddenly clasped around his wrist. Zant stared at him intently.

“It’s time. Take us there,” he insisted, clamping on with a tightness a man this frail shouldn’t be able to manage. “Somewhere safe. A vantage point. I must see him perish with my own eyes – I’ll trust no one’s account on it.”

Ghirahim furrowed his brows, revolted, but soon stopped struggling against him. Either way, there was a deep instinctual need that drew him to the battle Ganon now was entangled in. If he dragged Zant along, the man could do very little harm to begin with. But what allured him most, was the thought of leaving him there to be discovered. Zant’s naive drivel had, once again, drawn his ire. The effort Ghirahim had spent in keeping him alive may very well have been a fallacy, should he change his mind now… But to bring him directly before his old Master may very well reinstate his position by Ganondorf’s side. 

And, if he was lucky, in his hands. This was his very last chance. 

—

As they arrived, within a second, Ghirahim saw his last chance slip from him, vanishing into thin air. He had taken Zant with almost suspicious eagerness, situating the both of them atop the cliffs that surrounded Hyrule Field. Stroking a hand through his hair, he propped the man in the shadow of a great tree. Leaning on makeshift crutches as he was, lacking his helmet, he would need to be a semblance of safe. Or at least feel the part. 

But when Ghirahim turned to face the battlefield, to where his Master was bringing chaos to the lands of Hyrule, he lost any hope he had. The source of the ground-shaking pounding of hooves, of the malice-filled roars, was unmistakable. There rampaged Ganon, Demon King, reducing the once-green fields to a barren wasteland under the deep-red skies. He was colossal, resembling the man he knew only by his fiery red mane. Now, he tore through barricades in the form of a boar, with tusks like battering rams and clawed fists decimating men by the dozens just by galloping past. In his wake, keeps had crumbled, monsters had feasted, and a gigantic sword had lodged itself in the most suitable pedestal of all: Hyrule Castle.

Zant limped to the edge of the shadow to stand behind Ghirahim, close enough for him to hear the manic giggle under his breath over the carnage.

“Magnificent, isn’t it? All that power. That is what the Triforce contains.”

It was. He was dazzling, awe-inspiring, enough to bring the demon to his knees, eyes and mouth agape. The world trembled before the Great King of Evil, who had brought ruin to the once-so-grand Hyrule Castle, and swept any resistance aside with a single swing of his hand. But it was also terribly, terribly, wrong.

“... He’s lost his mind. I have seen this before. Ganondorf, as we have known him, is gone. There will be no more negotiations, no more allegiances, and no Kingdom to rule. The Princess must have pushed him over the edge –”

“And he’s taking everything down with him,” Ghirahim finished, the words leaving him in a quiver, like it was the last breath he would ever take. He fell to his knees.

Zant had the gall to snicker. “Oh, but he will not win. He cannot, not if – Ah, there you have it.”

As if struck by some unseen force, Bestial Ganon recoiled. Attacks once focused on the Demon himself now veered to the Colossus Blade lodged in Hyrule Castle, instead. Ghirahim remembered this sword – forged for the hands of Giants, only to be seized by the clutches of Hell, and made into a conduit for the Demon King. If it functioned anything like the one kept in Demise’s palace, it would have served as an amulet, to cast a protective spell over its Master. 

And now, it was being bombarded by a deluge of shimmering arrows, and wicked little birds carrying explosives in their talons. It all pitter-pattered on the midnight steel like prismatic rain, but the shriek of cracking metal was no less foreboding. Though Ganon chased them down, with the arrival of the Rito, all troops were heading for the Castle to reclaim it. Ganon tore through brick and mortar with enough force to crack one of his horns clean off, but it was too late. Launching the demon boar back, the Colossus Sword shattered. Though no less dangerous, Ganon was now vulnerable. 

Ghirahim whipped around to glare at the man behind him. Those eyes looked on the ensuing chaos like nothing was out of place. “You know more than you let on. Spit it out.”

Zant squinted his eyes nearly shut with a wide grin. “Ah, well… It was a gamble on my part, but I confess. Do you remember Chancellor Meherat?”

Ghirahim grimaced at him fiercely enough that no words were necessary to get him to continue.

“I intercepted her in the desert, buried her in a shallow grave. But not before planting a letter on her body, detailing some… Educated guesses, on how he might attempt to conquer the Castle. I’d hoped her traitor-sisters might find the body and give her a proper burial, and I was correct. I’m almost a little taken aback by how well something so brash seems to have worked.”

Ghirahim at once flew back to his feet and lunged at the Twili. He grabbed him fiercely by the tabbard, tugging him down to eye-level with his fangs bared… But past his enraged panting, found he couldn’t force a single word to form. With every anguished bellow behind him, his grip on Zant slackened. He couldn’t bring himself to turn around and look. So he buried his face in the fabric of Zant’s cloak, and let it soak up every tear he spilled. When Zant brought his hand to his back and stroked it softly, he wanted to recoil. He wanted to shake off his wretched affection, sprint down to the battlefield and come to his Master’s aid, but all was hopeless. In this state, Ganon would not even recognize him. Not as his ally, not as his blade. He would shatter him to splinters on the spot.

Ganondorf had broken his promise. Ghirahim would never return to his hand.

So, defeated and ensnared in the Twilight King’s web, Ghirahim gave up. He hid himself from the sight of his dying Master, as the monomaniac he clung to looked on in fiendish delight, nearly drooling at the power he coveted.

Until, as the clamor continued, Zant prodded at him to catch his attention. “Ghirahim,” he hissed. “We have been spotted.”

Mind gone muggy from his despair, Ghirahim sluggishly turned to where Zant urged him. Surely, at a distance, there stood a trio of blue-clad Hyrulean soldiers – two Hylians and a Rito. They were almost mere specks in the yards between them, but certainly eye-locked, nonetheless. 

Zant leaned in, whispering as though they might hear from such a distance. “It is in our best interest that Hyrule believes we are dead. We cannot afford witnesses.”

Ghirahim stared a little longer, but soon the Rito braced himself, flapping his wings to take off in flight. 

“So, what are you waiting for?” Zant chimed, extending his bony hand in the direction of the now-fleeing group. “Go, Yima Gradiegra. Kill.”

Ghirahim hadn’t realized how he’d hungered for such words until the command alone blazed fire within him. Before he’d even registered it in his mind, his feet took off in a sprint. All his fatigue, his listlessness, had disappeared, peopling his mind instead with this newly-acquired purpose. With bloodlust.

Kill. 

The first head rolled. The next drew a sword on him, only to find his blade flying into the dirt and himself skewered in a flash. Downy feathers fluttering down from above reminded Ghirahim of the Rito, who had taken off beyond his reach. With a snap of his fingers, Ghirahim sent a cloud of daggers whistling through the skies and plunging themselves into the plumed flesh of his target. With a squawking scream and a few futile wingbeats, the Rito sank in the air, and plummeted down to the ground. 

Only when he pounced on the already corpse-bound soldier to carve his throat for good measure, did a call of his name snap him out of this droning state. Without even looking back at the carnage he’d left, he winked himself back to Zant, and hid himself in his arms.

“Excellent work, my Blade… You and I, we shall have Hyrule at our feet.”

Those words, those hands stroking his back, encouragingly… Something burned within him and it sickened him. Enough to burrow further in those wretched arms. It was not just the sights of war Ghirahim hid from. Not just the unbearable reality of watching his Master die before him a second – no, third time. Most of all, he hid from the off chance he would meet Ganon’s eye from afar and have him see the spark of delight that lingered there. The shame it would bring to admit he had followed another man’s commands – a mortal, – and found joy in it… It would be far easier, were He to die without knowing of it.

So Ghirahim let Him. In the shadows of the Twili’s cloak, he could see nothing, but the deafening sounds of the clash behind him spoke volumes. An army of demons, falling to the hands of flesh-born men. The mightiest of them all, slain by the powers of light. As he had time, and time, and time again. For once, Ghirahim had the privilege to avert his gaze from his Master’s fall. Though he took it, he regretted it in an instant. 

But this regret did not last long. His eyes snapped wide open when he heard a low rumble, followed by a horridly familiar giggle. A shockwave soon launched the both of them back. Ghirahim, still hidden in Zant’s arms, landed on top of the injured man completely unceremoniously. When he raised himself to see what pushed them back, he came upon clear amber skies of dusk, and Hyrule Field green and spry as if nothing had ever touched it. A crumbled land, bathed in golden light, stretched out before him.

“Ghirahim, my ribs,” groaned the man below him. Though addressed, Ghirahim lingered just a few seconds longer than necessary, before turning to sit beside him. Listlessly, he pulled his knees to his chest.

“Now, I truly cannot go back.”

“No,” said Zant. “But we can start anew, once more.”

Ghirahim deigned to respond. He supposed they would have to. 

So, they returned to that little forest town, as bit by bit, the World returned to normal for the victors. The two of them noticed nothing of these efforts, other than their bond slowly returning, as much as Ghirahim wished to struggle against it. With his last tethers to his True Master now gone, there was little, so, so very little, tying him to the wishes of his past life. Day, after day, Ghirahim’s walls chipped away, allowing that old fondness to peer cheekily at him through the cracks in the mortar. Captive and Keeper, Victim and Tormentor, Blade and Master. Conniver, and Target. Such words he would once have used for their dynamic, but he had no word for what it was melting into. The life they led, sheltered in these woods, defied everything he knew. 

It was bare, it was calm, it was quiet, this one-man sick bay. These days, the most excitement Ghirahim got was the occasional target practice on a woodland bird, that he could then feed to his patient. If they’d wanted, they could have fled, then, a pair of deserters never to be heard from again. But, deceptively, in these moments of peace, Zant was letting his plot simmer. A man like him would never have been content with a simple life. 

Neither was Ghirahim. Not for one minute did he consider this drag of an affair his possible future life. If he could not have Demise, then he would at the very least have vengeance. Now that Ganondorf could not give that to him, he would take it himself. Hyrule would burn for what it did.

Ghirahim dapped a wet rag on the gash by Zant’s forehead. Arterial scabs were stubborn to heal, and on Twili, this seemed to be no different. By all means, there was no reason for him to keep doing this. Zant was able to sit up by himself just fine and had long abandoned his fever. Yet, with so little to do but wait, not even an army below him to amuse himself with, he’d rather care for this fool and feel useful than sit around. When he finished reapplying the bandages, Zant thanked him with a coo and a stroke of his thumb across his cheek. Then, he requested from him his field guide, that strange hobby of his. Though he’d traded calligraphy ink for graphite, Zant was no less eager in his scholarly pursuits and would sit, hunched, working on sketches and descriptions of creatures whose appearances he’d long committed to memory. Ghirahim was thankful for these moments. There were only a few forces in this world that could rip Zant from his concentration now, and he wasn’t up to such nonsense that day. 

So, he did what he would every time the house got quiet. He went for a walk. At first, he would just explore the ruined town at his leisure, perhaps turn over a stone they had missed when they first came here and find anything of intrigue whatsoever. On the third evening, though, far into the woods, he began to hear voices. Whether it was the fairies, or huntsmen, or soldiers looking for the last monstrous hideouts, he was not keen on finding out. What if, upon the sight of him, they would scatter, and spread word of his survival to Hyrule? No, he would much rather ambush them than seek them out. Since then, he’d taken to calling his habit of wandering a patrol.

On the eighth day of his roaming, an unfamiliar sound sent his hair standing on end, and his fingers braced to summon his weapon. It was a rattle; not like the clacking of branches, as he was used to, but like the shaking of an instrument. Hollow… As his eyes scanned his surroundings, he remembered something Zant said, so long ago now. He, too, complained of hearing such a sound at the edge of the woods when Ghirahim himself could perceive no such thing. Did he, somehow, transfer this madness to him?

But madness it was not. For soon, the rattling returned, this time accompanied by a troubled little whine. Then, out from the bushes, a strange creature barely the height of his knees came toddling towards him. It seemed to be entirely made out of wood, with stumpy limbs, antlers like branches, and a painted leaf stuck to it, serving as its face. Once it had confirmed Ghirahim could see it (doubtlessly through his bewildered, and somewhat disgusted look), it spoke.

“ᚺᛁᛏ:ᚾᛖ:ᛊᛁ:ᛊᛈᚱᛖᚲᚨᚾᚨ:ᚹᛁᚦᚱᚨ:ᛃᚢᛉ:ᛁᛏ:ᚷᚱᚨᚢᛏᚨᛉ:ᛒᚱᛖᛊᛏᚨᚾᚨ:ᚾᛖ:ᛚᚨᛁᛒᛁᛃᚨᚾᚨ! ᚠᚢᛚᚷᚨᚾᚨ:ᛗᛖᚲ!”

Of course, Ghirahim understood not a word of what it had just said, but had an idea of what it wanted. It waddled away from him with great urgency, only to turn and jump up and down a few paces later. Ghirahim looked behind him, thinking what would become of Zant, were he too stray too far… Well, if he was spirited away, that wouldn’t matter to him anymore, would it? With his true purpose gone, his sense of caution had also gone almost entirely slack. He decided he didn’t much care for the consequences of following woodland creatures into the thicket. So he just did that, and set off after the panickedly bouncing creature. Every once a while, it hopped high enough to see past the tall grass. Which was a thoughtful, but unnecessary gesture. He had long since set his dowsing to the odd little thing, and could follow it to the ends of the continent if he had to. 

It had already been later in the day when Ghirahim departed their shelter, but the light in the forest grew ever more ochre as he chased after his odd chaperone. They passed through wisps of fog, which were familiar in their chill… For a moment, Ghirahim thought the moment of his disappearance must have arrived, and the soaring sound of wind seemed to agree. Until, with just a few steps, the clouds pulled away at once, and his sight could not have been more clear. The wooden creature guiding him then came to a sudden halt, refusing to go any further. When Ghirahim stopped behind it, it quickly grew anxiously irritated. Squeaking some unintelligible request, it got up behind him and started pushing him in the calves, urging him to go on. Generously, he complied. Less generously, he took offense to this undignified interaction, and promptly kicked the creature off of him. It led out some little cry of pain, tumbled backwards into the brush, and, alive nonetheless, scurried out of sight.

The last stretch the pixie expected him to walk was short, as soon he waded past a juvenile treeline to find a clearing. In the middle of it, hovering above the gnarled stump of a felled tree, was Majora. And, the poor sod it inhabited, slumped over in the air like a marionette at rest. The second Ghirahim stepped closer, though, the puppet came to life. Glowing a deep purple, it shrieked a little, before rapidly jerking its arms to and fro. Having sufficiently awakened, its mask leered down at him.

“Ahh, how nice of you to join meee, Ghi-ra-hi mmm,” spoke the mask, hitching on each vowel like a rusty hinge. Majora’s host convulsed, creaked, its master forcing its head into jittering angles. 

Somewhat unnerved, but unwilling to show it, Ghirahim crossed his arms and managed a pleasant greeting. “Good evening, Great Gluttony. Your vessel is looking a little worse for wear.”

“Yesss-s-s-ss, it is becoming… Too small for me ee e. Crampedddd d. T t t. But it matters not. Not for me, and not for it. W itness me.”

The puppet stopped shivering. Its arms fell limply by its side. Hand by hand, it then began to grasp at its face, feeling around for the edge of the mask. Gloved hands, their talons poking through the fabric, found the opening of the puppet’s jaw and yanked. 

From its open mouth, a claw surfaced. More curled around the rim, one by one, until an entire draconic hand forced itself through the far-too-small opening, and slammed itself into the ground. From this anchoring point, Majora pulled itself out. Wild, iridiscent manes pooled from the defenseless Skull Kid in an avalanche, until from this mass of fur, an armored dragon burst outward. The mask, once stuck to the vessel, now rooted itself to the dragon’s face, leeching into its flesh by pulsing, pink veins.

It bristled and shook. The last of its body wormed itself unnaturally from the beak of its vessel, like a snake shedding its skin. With a single flick of its furred tail, it had completed this metamorphosis, and discarded the Skull Kid against a nearby tree with a thwack. 

Now before Ghirahim, the towering mountain of armor and mane that it was, stood Majora, the spitting image of its former self. Once, it was more massive than this, yet Ghirahim was dwarfed before it. The tips of its horns almost grazed the lower canopy of these infant woods as it sat. Where its colors were muted and meager millennia past, the bright colors of its sealing curse had turned it into a veritable prism. Through the trees, the light of the setting sun enshrined its wispy fur in an infernal halo, leaving Ghirahim imprisoned in its shadow. The Great Gluttony, Arch-Demon of the Timeless Lands, had returned to this realm.

Well, for as long as that mask could keep this form up, at least. It rumbled with satisfaction, shaking out its head to dislodge its fur from its triple set of horns. As it moved, the plates of its armor clanked together like cymbals. Ch-Ch-Chsss!

“Charmed. Anyhow,” said Ghirahim, thoroughly unamused and checking his manicure. “A little woodland sprite hassled me to come pay you a visit.”

Majora grimaced, for as far as a reptilian face could do so. It dropped itself to the ground, folding its claws comfortably. “Messing around with fairies? Have you learned nothing from our last encounter?”

Stepping back slightly from the gnarled purple face leering closely at him, Ghirahim kept his countenance cold. “I’ve learned to spot a trail when I see it. Now, what do you want from me? I’m a very busy man.”

Majora wagged its head side to side almost cheerfully. “Oh, I wanted nothing more than to say my thanks for the little nudge you’ve given me. And, of course, to have you witness my return to glory,” it said and raised its behind. Curving into an arc, Majora stretched out its long-dormant body. “It’s been soooo long since I could properly stretch my legs!”

“I don’t recall doing a single thing for you. But, if it gets you out of my hair, then I most gratefully accept.”

Sitting back down with a gasp, Majora had its eyes wide and grin wry. “You truly must give yourself more credit, your lordship! Had it not been for your oh-so punctual summoning, I wouldn’t have had enough power to feed!”

Majora sat up on its haunches, coloring its words with gestures of its claws. “With the lives you sacrificed in the Desert, I could finally clamp my jaws into a long-desired target. All of Ganondorf’s misery, mine, all mine!”

Standing in the dragon’s shadow, Ghirahim widened his eyes and covered his mouth in shock. But before he could sink into guilt over complicity in his Master’s death, Majora took his expression alone as a cue to keep babbling. “Oh, don’t look so surprised. How else do you think Hyrule returned to peace so quickly? This place would have been a wasteland, had even a drop of his rage been left to simmer. By all means, I’m such a nice little demon! The Hylians should love me.”

Amidst that self-satisfied prattling, Ghirahim could have been gnawing his nails clean off. Had he not accepted Majora’s offer, then it wouldn’t have been able to, ‘eat Ganondorf’s misery,’ as it said. But then, did this contribute to Ganon’s defeat? Had he, by purging Gerudo Valley, ensured that untimely demise? Or was Majora merely a scavenger, picking the scraps off the Demon King’s carcass? 

Could he be certain Zant hadn’t known all this, the second they left those woods, mere months ago?

Nail polish sticking to his teeth, he was quickly snapped out of his thoughts by large, shimmering talons pawing at him. “Ghirahim!! Lookie-look! My little vessel seems to have survived. How quaint!”

Just by the tree where Majora left the little creature, small squeaks and groans emitted from a beaten form. It sat up shakily, patting at itself. Said vessel’s true face was now revealed. It was a featureless, shadowy thing, with two glowing beady eyes and a sparrow’s beak. Soon, that beak burst open, freeing an anguished wail. Unintelligible babbles poured from it, prompting the two distraught fairies beside it to start dragging it to the shrubbery, doubtlessly perturbed by the pair of demons glaring down at them. But being parted from what was once its mask only made the childish thing shriek harder. Nevertheless, the fairies prevailed in their escort, as more and more of them poured from the woods to help pull it away. 

“Poor thing,” tutted Majora, watching along. “It must have gotten attached to me. And who can blame it? Power is alluring, even as it devours you.”

Ghirahim turned, feeling thoroughly addressed, to indeed find Majora looking at him closely. When their eyes met, it flashed its teeth with a grin and got back to its feet, prowling circles around him. Ghirahim felt his hand itching for his blade. Why did he come here unarmed?

“Either way, once more,” Majora purred, teeth still bared past its lips. The marks on its mask coiling, coiling, coiling, in the illusion of its shimmering scales. “I thank you two for your generous assistance. Consider your debt from the Lost Woods… Thoroughly repaid.”

Yet the intimidation display shook Ghirahim none. It could prowl around him all it wanted, he would not be prey. 

“Us two?” Hook, line, and sinker. “So, you were aware of Zant’s intentions, all along? Have you both wound me up in your cahoots behind my back?”

Majora stopped in its tracks, but Ghirahim would be hard-pressed to find even a split second of insecurity in that wicked face. “Cahoots? Oh, I didn’t have to get involved with him whatsoever to know his intentions,” it said. “They were clear as day! But, even though I poked around him a bit… He most likely does not even know I exist.”

So, his two tormentors just so happened to get viciously lucky. Ghirahim didn’t believe a lick of it. Though, the idea of the Arch-Demon breaking past Zant’s mental wards unnoticed… It was as unlikely as it was intriguing.

Guilt turned to contempt in a flash. He now saw Majora as responsible for the death of his beloved Master, rather than a tool that ran haywire under his watch. His apprehension, as such, disappeared just as quickly. Anger scrubbed every courtier’s discretion from him, and returned to him his true foul temper of a Demon. Ghirahim crossed his arms and faced Majora. 

“If you supposedly know everything, surely you can tell me if Zant is hiding anything else from me.”

He very quickly saw that boldness cost him. Majora approached him, placing each claw carefully before the last in an elegant prowl, and burst into laughter once it was right before him. Just then, it braced itself, bristled its fur to become a mountain of shimmering fleece, and hurled itself at him.

Ghirahim yelled out as he was pounced. Had he thought quick enough, he could have summoned his sabre and buried its tip in the pink flesh of its throat, bared as it was when it guffawed at him. But he hadn’t, so pinned between its claws, he stumbled to the floor, and let it loom over him.

“You are getting greedy, imp,” hissed Majora, inches away from his face. The colors in its eyes pulsed with warning. “By all means, I have been generous with my information… Yet you demand more? Knew I not steel to taste terribly…”

“You cannot blame me for trying –”

“I can,” it growled.

Yet in its rage, Ghirahim found his escape. His one hand concealed under the bulk of the dragon’s scaled claw, he snapped his fingers, and promptly disappeared from under its grip. Instantly annoyed, Majora hobbled in a circle, only to find Ghirahim sitting on a branch above just out of its reach.

“Right, then, I suppose I will have to find out some other way,” said Ghirahim, idly swaying his leg over the edge of the branch. “If neither of us have anything else to tell each other, I assume our little parley ends here.”

Majora flexed its talons, for a moment looking as if it would jump up and scuff him. But it narrowed its eyes in a relinquished temper. 

It sat back down. “If that’s how you want to part, fine by me. You’re dismissed, ‘Demon Lord’.”

“Wonderful. I hope to be seeing very little of you, Great Gluttony Majora. Enjoy the new skin. I found mine suited me quite well.”

With another snap of his fingers, he was out of sight of the clearing. He felt like a buzzing in his head finally faded, while he hadn’t even noticed it come on as he spoke with Majora. With a few more paces, it had gone completely. Just as he, Majora had departed. As it did, the forest took just a moment of quiet; held its breath. Then, it sighed collectively, a knee-height plume of fog pouring in through every crack. Above him, at his feet, and every which way, chittering and chirping filled his empty head in gratitude. He supposed, for now, the annoyance of fairies was preferable to the hatred and regret he’d left simmering on the backburner after the encounter of mere moments ago. 

It was time to head back.

Ghirahim shambled back through the treeline. Gossamer fog pulled away from him like a sigh the further he departed from that clearing, the fairies’ cries faded with every step. As luck would have it, he’d let himself be lured into the woods by the Fair Folk, and they hadn’t even had the decency to spirit him away.

Back he went to his house of conspiracy. With that excuse for escape now locked behind him, Ghirahim felt an odd sense of peace. A resigned one, but peace nonetheless. 

Ghirahim neared the edge of the forest, but did not yet surface from it. Through the leaves, the last light of dusk colored his surroundings golden, tree trunks carving big black pillars of shadows all throughout this dying light. These shadows made for a fine hiding spot, but not at all from the man looking for him. It then struck him just how long he must have spent with Majora, even if at the time, it seemed like minutes.

Which meant all the more that he should quit dawdling. Ghirahim stepped through the mouth of the little elephant path he’d followed before and entered the town. 

His King was waiting for him there. Zant sat on a stack of firewood outside the house, staring at the first stars speckling the skies. On his hands, he was idly letting some kind of beetle tromp along his wheeling fingers. He perked up from his thoughts when Ghirahim’s arrival rustled the thicket. The two met eyes.

“Gone for a bit of an evening walk?”

“Indeed. You don’t mind, do you?” Ghirahim scoffed. “Surely, you can manage an hour or two without me?”

Zant smiled, turquoise flashing through the marks of his forehead. “Yes, I can, but I would prefer not to,” he responded, beckoning him over to sit with him. Ghirahim only half-refused, opting to lean against the shack wall behind him, instead. 

With a brief pause, Zant looked over his shoulder to address him. “Right, ah… Listen, Ghirahim. I wish to divulge the next step of my plans with you.”

Ghirahim hummed, cocking his head. “Just about time, I’d say.”

While Zant should have expected snark, he clearly didn’t. A little caught off guard and flustered, he continued. “... Yes, my apologies. I –”

“Oh, please,” interrupted Ghirahim. “I don’t want any excuses. Just tell me.”

Zant nodded sheepishly, then scraped together what little dignity he could. “I will allow myself a few more days of rest, six at the latest. We will reclaim the Triforce of Power first, but we cannot take the Valley with just the two of us. We will need troops.”

So, that’s what he wanted all along. Ghirahim couldn’t even find it in him to be surprised. Perhaps somewhere, he’d hoped that Zant was content with Ganon’s death alone. But, always there was more. His Master and Zant, both, thirsted for Hyrule’s throne. It was to be expected that he would follow through, and, with enemies like theirs… They’d need some seriously hefty tools for the job. Taking the Triforce was the next logical step. 

‘We can start anew,’ indeed… They were back at square one. 

The lack of response made his companion nervous. Somewhat anxiously tapping his foot in the dirt by his seat, Zant continued. “The Bulblin Clans have been loyal to me before, and they are easier to persuade than most. When I have recovered, we will recruit them first thing.”

Eyes cast to the ground, Ghirahim hummed, crossed his arms. So, their little getaway was to end so soon.

Zant shifted in his seat. He looked up at him. “But, in the meantime, Ghirahim, I want to ask you a favor.”

“And what would that be?” Ghirahim asked, tipping his head. Might as well humor him.

“I have been resigned to bedrest for too long, and I fear I have grown sluggish. For both our sakes, Ghirahim, teach me how to wield you again.”

Ah, this was it. Just as he’d predicted, Zant was to break through his walls, and free what part of himself he had so thoroughly kept locked away. Smothered no more, the little dagger that loved him so pressed itself to the gate of its prison, and awaited its opening with bated breath. They would give it what it wanted. The Demon Scimitar was made to be wielded, just as he was. At least a part of him should feel that satisfaction.

So, saying nothing, Ghirahim pulled the Twili to his feet. In doing so, the wobbly creature stumbled into him, squeaking in surprise. That saved him the trouble of pulling him close, he supposed. Hands at his sides, Ghirahim craned his head up to look at him, daring him to act. Zant had wronged him, worse than he thought he ever could. Yet, Ghirahim saved his life, twice over. The least he could do now was show him that he at least had the guts to assert himself. Ghirahim would not lead this dance.

After some deliberation, the wide-eyed gawking of his amber eyes and wiggling fingers on reserved hands, Zant made his move at last. One lanky arm curled around his waist, as it would always do, while the other hovered above his chest. For once, it was Zant avoiding his gaze, not the other way around. All this effort, all this plotting, all these meticulous efforts to secure his usurpation… And now he could not even touch the one he called his lover. He was a fool. A coward. And Ghirahim would not stand for it. So he tested what Majora claimed it had done.

He pierced through that frail, mortal mind at once. Of course, against his Gradiegra, he’d built no wards. Ghirahim seized him firmly by what tethers he could grab, and commanded him.

Look at me.

With a yelp, Zant obeyed at once. And when those glowing eyes found the deep, void pupils of his own, Zant faltered. His hand fell on his chest and the Scimitar was beckoned. Their souls latched together, just like that. Crack, crack, Twilit magic slowly peeling away the skin to his core to lay bare that precious gem. Where he was once apprehensive, Zant quickly became eager. For a powerful blade was just that, and he would chase after such an allure without cease. Even if it meant toying with the heart of the one who mattered most to him. Especially then. But it was not just Ghirahim’s deepest self brought to light – he still had Zant ensnared, like fingers wrapping around his throat. As his questing magic lapped at the edges between them, Ghirahim saw every inch of him. Through his mind, through his hands, and through his eyes, so close to him now.

So was the truth to be revealed. Zant had not changed. After parting his veil of lies, Ghirahim expected to find a completely different man hiding behind. But he did not. All that had changed was the light he saw him in. And how dazzling it was, pointing at his every nook and cranny, bright as day! He’d torn him open, baring every ugly rotten part of him, that stabbed and plotted and hated, so, so deeply, sticking out from his flesh like hooks to gutted fish. And yet, amidst all now in plain sight, Zant’s eyes looked at him that very same way. A laughably simple plea for affection glinted in the wetness of his eyes. Somehow, even when orchestrating a grander scheme than Ghirahim could even dream of doing, a deathly weapon within reach, Zant could think to wish for his companionship – No, to strive for it, to hold it tight and make it his own. As if it could be of any importance, as if Ghirahim cared, as if he expected him to simply forgive him overnight. All just because he loved him.

They were the same, in this way. They’d ripped each other apart and sat panting across each other, hands drenched in each others’ deepest parts. In this idiotic, violent act, the borders between them had blurred and slurried together.

Oh, how they were the same. And how gently Zant traced his fingers along the measly wall that kept them separate. Hoping, perhaps, that a tender touch now might ease the violence that would come later. It would not, but the sentimentality of it all would bring mirth to even this demon. Nevertheless, Ghirahim groped his wrist, dragging him along to place his hand square on his chest. Ghirahim then wished nothing more than to be breached. To return the favor, to mend what was broken. The gentle flutter of eyelashes and Zant’s shaky breath tickling his skin made the wait unbearable. All at once, the heat in his body gathered in his chest, and its surface cracked. His core was within view, within touch. Enter me. Let us blur together some more.

So, Zant’s fingers slipped past him. Dodging his sharpest facets, and plunging directly into the molten heat of his core, Zant made his way to that promised hilt. And as his hand drew closer to its goal, so too did their bodies draw together. They hid in each other, their faces buried into the napes of each others’ necks. Like this, Ghirahim could feel every wince, every drop of sweat from that awful Twili, who struggled through his endurance to keep his hand in the blazing heat of his chest. Ghirahim smiled a wicked smile, and at last, embraced the man who tried so hard for him.

“By the eighteen Hells, I hate you,” Ghirahim hissed. But how I missed this love. 

“Then, forged by the fires of those Hells, and your burning hatred, Yima Oibede, let me draw our blade.”

Ghirahim laughed in mockery. Yet, all the same, he jut his chest forward, and in doing so, pushed the pommel of the blade he’d hidden into Zant’s hand. Such tenderness had earned him this gift; embraced as he was, with each engrossed in nothing but the other. For a sword was equally made to be held, as it was made to kill. 

Spindly fingers finally dared to curl around the grip of him. But when Zant tugged, he found it stuck. Once again, the blade was incomplete – after such a betrayal, the image of their bond had irrevocably changed. So, the little dagger that embodied it had to change, too. This time, when the blade sapped Zant of his strength, he did not yelp, he did not even flinch. Readily, he poured his magic into it, and let its threads be woven into a truly wicked sword.

Ghirahim hated it. He wanted that composure shattered and he wanted it fast. So he sunk his teeth into the tender flesh of Zant’s neck and let him squirm. And, though indeed, his reaction was as delicious as the taste of his blood, it only lasted so long. Zant, driven by what could only be instinct, snarled with bared teeth and bit him back. Like two wild dogs entangled in strife, they took from each other, one pulling at shards of the soul, and the other savoring drops of blood. Ghirahim let ichor leave him past the holes left in him by needle teeth, and Zant lapped it up, even if by all means, it could poison him. 

Zant whined at him through black-stained lips. “Ghirahim-ili… How I’ve longed to rule with you by my side.” 

With that promise, Zant freed the blade with one last tug. It burst from him, spurting an arc of white-hot liquid metal in its trail as Zant held it by their side. The Demon Scimitar has returned to his hand, once wicked but now gnarled, black and red in hatred and the love of a bleeding heart. Even with this blade in his hand, as instrumental a key it was in his plans, Zant never took his eyes off the scabbard in his arms.

When they kissed, it was like lightning. Fierce, shocking, and above all, bold, serving to release their bottled-up affections and frustrations both. With the taste of iron on their lips, they sealed their blood pact in this way. A promise of carnal pleasure, turbulent love, and of course, with blade in hand… The violent glory of battle. 

When they parted, neither of them could say how long they’d stood there in lip-lock, though the smearing of blood and cosmetics gave them an idea. 

Now, Zant stepped back, his arm still loosely resting on Ghirahim’s waist. He finally took the time to survey the changes to their blade. A grin stretched across his face… He likely didn’t even notice it did.

“Beautiful, Ghirahim-ili,” he said, turning it in his hand to drink in every angle. “I would go to war with no other blade.”

Ghirahim slipped from his embrace and laughed. “Then prove it. Let’s fight.”

Ghirahim drew his own blade, one simple and heavy. He did not have the concentration to summon anything more thoughtful, for his core hummed and buzzed far too erratically to let him even think of a careful choice. The man whose hands just plunged into his soul and pulled out his own piece stood before him… With his stance too wide and his arms wobbling. Where Ghirahim wanted to again spiral into conflict and despair, he now puffed out a laugh. 

“Last time I struck you in the chin for such sloppy stancework, Zant, but I’m a little hesitant to do so, without your helmet to guard you.”

Zant grinned. “I don’t think you’re hesitant at all.”

“You’re right,” Ghirahim chimed. At once, he launched for him. Zant flinched, but did not falter, swinging upwards to catch the offending blade on his fingerguard. Of course, Ghirahim didn’t fight him with all his vigor… They were only practicing, after all, and Zant was recovering from the brink of death, still. But every few swings, he found he could hit harder than he anticipated. Only once did Zant’s hands shake enough for their clings to slip, and land him a painful jab to the wards in his armpit. He was still just as careful, as analytical, and as fierce as he was before his bed-ridding… Taking advantage of the new, thorny shapes jutting from the Demon Scimitar, he flicked Ghirahim’s swing off course. 

When Ghirahim was then struck, he stumbled, and realized how he’d been tricked. 

“ ‘Teach me how to wield you again’ ? What an awful excuse! You remember what I’ve taught you just fine,” Ghirahim grimaced, poorly masking a grin with fake rage as he brought the flat of his blade down on Zant’s shoulder. “Deceitful fiend! You baited me.”

“Indeed, I teased you,” Zant whistled through gritted teeth, prying the both of them apart through the locking of their swords. “But I could use the refresher.”

They trained for what felt like hours – not from dull exhaustion, but because the minutes melted away as they clashed their blades under the setting sun. Zant’s joy was infectious – or was it he who had started laughing? – and soon, they chased each other in a true mockery of swordsmanship. They then cared not what bruised or what tore. All that mattered was this dance.

Inbetween manic giggles, Zant reeled him in with glee. “Don’t you feel it, Ghirahim-hasir? The thrill of sparring again? Day, after day, how I’ve longed for this!”

Ghirahim could have berated him then, for having dared dream of such childish things while bringing him such suffering. But to reject this shared joy now, nothing could feel more unnatural. So, he went for the next best thing: a swordmaster’s scolding. He had been merciful with Zant’s sloppy mistakes up until then, but no longer. Whacking right into the Scimitar’s sharp edge, he trapped Zant’s blade in his and wrenched it from his hands with one sweep of his arms. With nothing left to protect him, Zant flinched, staying perfectly in place to then be kicked square in the chest and knocked to the ground.

Sword planted firmly in the soil right beside Zant’s face, Ghirahim stepped over him, one foot at each side of his chest, and leered down. “Then, you ought to long for tomorrow, too, Twilight King. You’re getting rusty.”

Blinking up at him and panting, Zant was frozen in place from his startle and exhaustion. A drop of ichor falling on his cheek thawed him out quickly enough. His fingers curling around his victor’s blade, he smiled.

–

And so, six days went by, with Zant retiring from his bedrest and taking up their blade once more. Before the sun rose, Ghirahim was shaken from a daze to find the bed next to him empty. Stood waiting at the window, eyes wide and staring miles ahead of himself, was Zant. The day to recruit their soldiers had arrived.

They joined hands. Zant knew just where the Bulblins would be that season, and could warp the both of them there, without Ghirahim’s assistance. Since the event of Ganon’s death, Zant had recovered almost to the point of being his old self, if one ignored the gray hairs, the scars, and the dent along his jaw. Magic flowed through his veins once again – if Ghirahim had to hazard a guess, he must have been conservative with it before, not wanting to draw the attention of their Master. He wondered, idly, if sharing a piece of the same Triforce came with a bond he could not have had. Ghirahim shut this line of thought, very quickly, before he could vie for the attention of a dead man all too severely.

They arrived at the outskirts of the Bulblin settlement shortly, just as the sun began to set behind the dry grass. The expanse colored ochre in the light of dusk, almost bloodstained, to cast the camp in a similar light. It was a tall-fenced enclosure, with only some shacks on the outside for the occasional pastoralists… Who were now glaring at them with great scrutiny. Upon wandering a smidge too close to the gate, a small troupe of guards marched up to halt them. Only to then, where they’d been blinded by the sun before, realize who stood before them, and sent one of their numbers to inform the Earl post-haste.

Led through the sea of tents and cabins, they arrived at a large, black, goat-hair tent at the nexus of the settlement. Inside, they found – eyes led to the center by racks upon racks of ornamental weaponry and tapestries – the Bulblin Earl, Lord Hallra, seated upon a wooden throne, and surrounded by smaller blins. 

Upon their entry, Lord Hallra laughed, his arms spread and clutching a massive axe in his right hand. “Shadow Lord Zant,” he shouted, beckoning them to approach. “What a surprise. Word had it you’re dead. Or has your Master resurrected you once more?”

Zant bowed his head, just to be polite. Ghirahim did no such thing. “No, Lord Hallra. I am alive and well. And, here today, of my own accord.”

The Earl leaned forward, his elbow resting on his knee. He wore a cheeky grin. “Then, I take it that you need something from me.”

“Indeed I do,” said Zant, prompted to continue by a gesture of Lord Hallra’s meaty hand. “Your hospitality is much appreciated, Your Excellency, and assures me that our favor with you has not yet faded. I will keep it short. As soon as our forces are ready, I will march for the Valley of Seers. To do this, I need soldiers. Your clans happen to be the finest that I know.”

Flattery. How bold. Ghirahim decided to sit this one out – he had very little to do with the brutes around them, as interested as they seemed to be in him. Doubtlessly, the smaller Bulblins peeking at him through the spear racks were making plans to make some room for him in the armory. 

Lord Hallra, meanwhile, rumbled thoughtfully and sank back into his chair. He ruminated on the offer for a frustratingly long time. Finally, he shook his head, rattling the decorations on his horned helmet. 

“My people have sworn ourselves to you before, Shadow Lord. You are strong, I know this, but we have already pledged our allegiance to Ganondorf before. By all means, he was your superior, and still he failed. I see no reason to join forces with you again.”

Such words were poison to Zant, made vile by the mentioning of his former Master. Zant recoiled accordingly but did not back down. “Ganondorf was a fool, and so was I, when I followed him the first time. He was under the impression that he could rule alone, abandoning those who served him to keep his throne of ashes to himself. He did so in the Age of Twilight, and he would have done so again. My usurpation of Hyrule now will be very different from back then. I will not settle for a mere piece of the Triforce. This time, we will claim all of its power in full, for our own.”

Though he seemed ready to have the two dismissed just seconds before, Lord Hallra sat back in his throne, scratching at his beard with intrigue. “Curious, then, how you didn’t attempt taking it before.”

“Back then I did not know I could. The Triforce will only settle in the palms of those with its birthright. Unless you know how to tear it from them.”

“Hah! I don’t suppose you can simply tell me?”

Just then, Zant exchanged a glance with Ghirahim. They at once spotted a weakness in Lord Hallra’s otherwise powerful stature. An obvious fracture to Ghirahim, but seemingly, just as clear to his companion. Zant was a demon in this way. A desire – and if the Earl had something to wish for, so did the Twilight King have a bargaining chip.

Naturally, Zant sunk his teeth into the opportunity with a smile and amicably raised hands. “You spoke of our allegiance before. Centuries past for you, and mere months ago for me. I remember it clearly. Particularly, how you abandoned your bond to me when Hyrule’s Hero bested you in battle.”

At the first sign of a frown from Lord Hallra, Zant stepped closer. Sand puffed up from the tapestry below his brass slipper. “The Bulblins are an honorable people. You follow the strongest. With Hyrule’s victory over Ganondorf, I do suppose that would make Queen Zelda your superior, but I know neither of you would fancy such an alliance. Instead, I propose the following.”

Reaching behind him, Zant took the hand of his Sword without having to look for him. He held him as if escorting him to a dance, feather-light. “Lord Hallra, I challenge you to a duel. If I am the victor, the Bulblins will serve me with their numbers in overtaking the Valley of Seers once more. Should you win, I will surrender, and with it, bestow the knowledge upon you that shall lead you to the Triforce. It will be yours to command, and yours alone.”

As Zant spoke, the pudge of Lord Hallra’s cheeks dented more and more under the force of his knuckles as he leaned his face upon them. With that last sentence, a spark of greed lit in his eyes and raised his brows – the bane of all Men. “... Hah! You pillock. Ganondorf would never have proposed such a promising offer.”

Zant’s smile did not even twitch. Slowly raising his hand, he led Ghirahim closer. “Did I not tell you my rule would be very different?”

With a chuckle, the Earl lowered his eyes, hiding his gaze behind wrinkled lids and plucky lashes, like straw stuck into his skin. He leaned into the whispers of a Blin beside him, nodding all the while, until so boldly, he grinned widely, and defiantly shook his head. His hand firmly clutched his armrest. He sat up and boomed his answer. “Aye, that you did. Very well. I accept your terms!”

As the sun set, torches lit around the camp. Zant fitted himself in his form-fitting armor and plates beneath his robes, though his helmet remained as absent as it had been. The Earl’s squires, in the meantime, clad him in chainmail, helmet, and banners, every splinter of metal glittering in the flickering light.

In this almost companionable silence, Zant drew the ire of every bulblin in the room, and lightly addressed his fellow duelist. “I must ask for reassurance, Lord Hallra. For the sake of your people, I hope you have procured some heirs.”

Lord Hallra’s eyes remained ever hostile, until the weight of Zant’s words hit him. Jagged teeth bared, he erupted into gut-shaking laughter, pounding the staff of his axe on the ground beside his throne. His underlings burst out in a heckling chortle beside him.

“Shadow Lord. I have lived to see fifty-three monsoons, and in this time, taken four wives. You tell me if you think I have heirs.” Creaking his chair, he leaned forward with a mocking grimace. “Do you?”

“Oh, I do not expect to need them,” Zant waved him off. With a single tug, he pulled his Demon into his arms, one hand bracing on his shoulder. “Ghirahim, our blade, if you will.”

So was the Demon Scimitar drawn. Their entourage was led behind the Earl’s throne room to an open-air battlefield. At the sight of their leader, clad in steel and axe in hand, clamor burst out throughout the camp. Every blin and mount, be they green, red, or magenta, just about plastered themselves to the fence to watch the battle unfold. All were eager to witness their leader off another poser. His people were confident in him and cheered thrice as loud, wishing him his fortunes in defeating their former lieutenant.

And, truth to be told, Lord Hallra was formidable. Decades of pure, honed strength jettisoned his every swing. The massive axe flew through the air, never losing its edge no matter how hard he cleaved it into the dirt. More and more of their arena was destroyed, both men leaving decimation in their wake. The Earl pushed Zant off of him with shoves of his axe handle, or kicks of his feet, or swings of his horns. Against anyone, man or beast, Lord Hallra would fall to no weapon.

Had his opponent not been Zant. Ghirahim could see it in his floaty gait – he was simply stretching time, perhaps to allow this washed-up senior his last moments of glory in front of his people. But when Zant drew his blade; truly drew it, with killing intent palpable enough for Ghirahim to feel it in his soul, it was over in seconds. Shadows trailed Zant as he burst forward, then assailed the Bulblin General from all angles in wicked tendrils. One slice of the Demon Scimitar, and the first of Lord Hallra’s armor was torn through like paper. A second swing, and yellowed fat tissue pooled free from a blood-drenched wound. Before the third could land, the hammer-end of the axe crunched into Zant’s upper arm, but it wasn’t enough to save Hallra’s life.

A flash of darkness. A splatter, a deafening silence from the crowd. Zant limped to the severed head now on the floor and raised it before his army. Their contract was sealed.

[vampymaddy]

Part Four - Beach Party

I poured the coffee into a cup, my hands slightly trembling as I set it on the counter before going back to polishing spoons.

Rafe smirked,his fingers drumming over the ceramic cup with a hum. "You're good at this, the 'pretend I'm bothered' act. But your hands-" He pointed the silver spoon at them, "-kind of give you away"

I stopped polishing the cutlery as I hid my hands under the counter,taking a deep annoyed breath. I could feel embarrassment wash over me though. "So what do you want?"

"Nothing really. Just curious ,I guess. You've got a lot of fight in you,for somene who doesn't stand a chance" 

I furrowed my brows as I stared at him. "Don't stand a chance to what? Your games? You're not scaring me"

His smirk reappeared on hid face as his eyes glimmered at me,something hidden. "That's what makes it fun," he spoke before setting the cup down and reached into his back pockets to leave the cash on the counter. "See you around then,Skye"

I watched him stand up and remained silent, the bell jingling again as he opened the door and left the café. I was still standing there with my jaw clenched and heart beating like crazy.

He wasn't done. Not yet.

                                          -

Later that week the Pogues insisted on joining a party after all the stormy events. I couldn't say no, and I could totally use a drink. 

The music thumped loudly, feeling the bass vibrating through the sand as we made our way through the crowded beach. Fairy lights casted the light on clusters of people, dancing, drinking, and lounging near the bonfire. I wore a simple black summer dress with my worn sneakers.

"This is what we need guys," Kiara said, throwing an arm around my shoulders. "Just some drinks, some bad dancing, and no trouble"

"You jinxed it already , Kie" Pope muttered as he passed me a Solo cup that smelled like cheap rum and suddenly it didn't even matter what it was. 

"Unbelievable" I took a big gulp as every each one of our eyes settled on Rafe and his goons. He was wearing a messy white shirt with the first two buttons opened, a pair of navy blue shorts and white adidas. The whole energy just shifted into something that made my head sting. And no it wasn't from the rum.

"You want to leave?" John B asked, knowing very well why it would make me uncomfortable.

I shook my head, "No way, not letting him ruin tonight as well"

Rafe was too busy laughing and grabbing a drink from the makeshift bar. But I knew it wouldn't last long until he would see us. It's as if he could smell our presence from miles away.

And after some time I was soon to be right, as I danced with Kiara I could feel his gaze lingering too heavily on me. I glanced and saw him across the bonfire, his smirk instantly plastered on his face.

Fuck.

I immediately adverted my gaze and mumbled, "You have to be kidding me"

"What?" Kiara asked, following the gaze I had earlier on and groaned. "Great. Here we go"

Rafe broke away from his group, heading straight towards us with a swagger that made me want to throw my drink at him only for that. He stopped a few feet away, his eyes flickering between me and the Pogues.

Kiara rolled her eyes as she made sure not to let him get to me. "Not in the mood,Rafe"

"Relax, I'm not here to start anything. Just saying hi"

"Hi. Now leave" Kiara shot back, glaring at him.

"You clean up nice" Rafe spoke again, his gaze focused on me again. He eyed me up and down, for a bit too long for my liking. "Didn't peg you for the beach party type"

"Can you not ruin tonight for me?" I finally spoke to him, my eyes lingering on his stupid stance. The way he chuckled with both hands in his pockets and his lips stayed curled into a sly smile.

"I'll behave tonight, for now"

"You know that doesn't suit you" I mumbled with bitterness.

"Guess we'll see" and with that, he turned around to leave back to his group as we all glared after him.

"Can we throw him in the ocean?" JJ mumbled, Kiara shooting him a glance but I responded too quickly.

"Tempting" I confessed, my eyes still on Rafe as he glanced back once, catching me watching him and quickly looked away.

The night wasn't over yet and I could already tell, this was no good.

[ajqwrites]

COD: Modern Warfare Reboot (Under Siege - Book 1)

He climbed the stairs to Diane Nutt's floor, taking them two at a time.

A twinge of guilt thinking about Rusty, her golden retriever, who had been waiting for him to show up and feed him tonight. Making friends outside his unit wasn't easy for John. He had always kept his circle small, and making connections in civilian life felt almost like he was a foreigner. But Diane was different.

Her easygoing but no-nonsense personality drew him in; over the years, she had become someone he could talk to and confined with anything he needed help on, like looking out for his daughter while he was on duty.

He admired her resilience, especially knowing she was a widow whose sons were far away in North America and rarely kept in touch. That shared understanding of solitude made their bond stronger. Diane was like a second mother to him, and he knew she always ask him about Cam and her recovery since Diane will never miss out of her adopted grandchild (she took her in as one after learning about her late mother passing).

Years of knowing his neighbor and learning to open up to a stranger, Diane does know him inside and out. Though, she would never push nor force him to talk unless if he decided to talk about anything that bothers him or if he needed any help, like a personal advice beyond seeking counseling.

Using the spare key Diane had given him, John unlocked the door and stepped inside. The scent of oceanic candle wax mixed with fresh flowers filled the space, bringing an instant warmth that was so natural from an older woman. Her apartment was inviting and lively, a perfect reflection of her personality.

The walls were painted soft, cheerful hues, making everything warm and cozy. Photographs lined the hallway—snapshots of her travels, scenes from Greece with its blue seas and bright sands, and candid moments with friends. Her life was full of stories, and each photo held a memory she cherished. Among the photos were small touches of her faith. Wooden plaques with Bible verses hung thoughtfully on the walls. One read, "Be still, and know that I am God," the elegant lettering catching the light.

Another simply said, "Faith, Hope, Love," surrounded by painted floral patterns.

Then, a carved wooden cross was mounted above a side table, which held a worn Bible and a small ceramic dish filled with seashells from her travels.

These little touches spoke of comfort and a belief that never wavered.

The living room was warm and inviting.

An overstuffed armchair sat by the window, draped with a red and gold knitted blanket. A string of fairy lights looped along the ceiling, casting a soft, warm glow that reflected off a framed print of The Last Supper above the couch. Books were scattered across the coffee table—travel guides, devotionals, and dog-eared novels.

The kitchen was neat and inviting, with its dark wooden cabinets and a bowl of lemons next to a vase of daisies. A small sign on the counter read, "Give us this day our daily bread."

A soft whine pulled John from his thoughts, and he turned to see Rusty trotting over, tail wagging furiously.

"Hey, boy," John said, crouching to ruffle the dog's ears. "Miss me?"

Rusty barked in response.

He smiled and walked to the kitchen to grab Rusty's food.

The golden retriever dug in immediately, tail thumping against the cabinet. John leaned against the counter, taking in the familiar space. It felt alive, even when Diane wasn't home.

The front door creaked open, and Diane stepped inside, her carry-on bag in hand and a smile lighting up her face. Her blonde hair was pulled into a loose braid, and she wore a light sweater that hinted at the crisp night air. Her eyes brightened when she saw him.

"John!" she said, setting her bag down and immediately going to greet Rusty, who had abandoned his food to dance around her feet. She laughed, bending down to press her cheek against his fur. "I missed you so much, you fluffy troublemaker."

John smiled a rare, soft expression. "Didn't think you'd be back tonight."

"I managed an earlier flight." Diane said as she stood. "Thank you, really. I can't tell you how much I appreciate you caring for him."

"Anytime," he said with a slight shrug. "Rusty's good company."

Diane let out a soft sigh and looked around her space, the stress of travel melting away. Rusty settled down at her feet, wagging his tail lazily.

"You know," she said with a playful glint, "I was just going to reheat something quick, but if you're not in a rush, I could make dinner. What do you say?"

John raised an eyebrow. A homemade meal sounded good after the day he'd had.

"I'm not in any hurry," he replied, moving to push himself off the counter. "Mind if I help?"

Her eyes widened, and she laughed, shaking her head.

"Oh no, not after last time. Remember when you tried to help, and we ended up with burnt rice and the smoke alarms going off?" Her eyes sparkled with amusement. "I'd rather you stay put this time. I promise it'll go a lot smoother."

John smirked at the memory. Rusty barking, them scrambling to open windows—it had been crazy, but they'd laughed until their sides hurt.

"Fair enough," he said, holding up his hands. "I'll stay out of your way."

Diane moved around the kitchen, humming as she grabbed ingredients from the fridge. The scent of garlic and herbs filled the room as she worked, making his stomach rumble.

"How was Germany?" he asked, breaking the easy silence.

"It was amazing," Diane said, glancing over her shoulder as she stirred the vegetables. "I stayed in Munich for a few days and saw Neuschwanstein Castle. You should've seen it, John—like something from a fairytale. And the food? I don't think I'll ever look at pretzels the same way again," she grinned.

He nodded, picturing her standing in front of the castle, eyes full of wonder.

"What about the people?" he asked with a hint of mischief. "Have you met anyone special?"

Diane laughed as she added the chicken to the pan. "Not a man, if that's what you're asking. But I did meet an older couple at a café. They shared stories about their travels and tips on the city's best-hidden spots. And this street musician played the violin so beautifully, I could've listened to him all night."

John watched her, noting how she seemed to glow as she talked. Diane had a way of making everything sound full of life. It reminded him how much he kept himself tethered, living life within the boundaries of duty. She served the meals and brought them to the table, settling into the chair across from him.

"Enough about me," she said, raising an eyebrow. "How's Cami? Any updates about her recovery? Her hip?"

"She's close to getting out," John said, picking up his fork. "Two more appointments and she's done."

"Good," she continued, "have you chatted with her?"

"Just now," he said after he stab a piece on his plate and took a bite.

"Well?"

He looked at her with his eyebrow raised.

"Well, what?"

Diane frowned almost. A nonverbal cue. She watched him lay down his fork and he swallowed.

"Cam is busy with Soap, and I don't want to bother her."

"Excuses," Diane shook her head.

"No, no. Cam is busy with Soap and herself. I only left her text messages and she'll answer whenever she is ready."

"That is not communication, John," Diane stated firmly. "Even if she was busy, she still needed a father in her life."

He pressed his lips thinned and looked at his plate before taking another bite and swallowed.

"Yes, she does," he said before his brows furrowed. "I just... I hated that she has to deal with the pain that only I can bear with and not her. But, since she is recovered well from the crash. I still can't imagine how Cami would carry that scar that I'll never forget the pain she endured."

Then, he paused. His eyes moved at his plate and not to Diane.

The memories began to flood in his mind when he remembered a phone call of Laswell telling him news about his daughter being crashed on a plane, his world became a blur.

The worst news he could hear as a single parent to remember the message well. Something he would never forget about how he would drop everything after 141 neutralizing Hassan Zyani at Chicago in joint operation (while being injured by a few bullets he had to forget the pain he was in). A piece of medal shrapenel that went straight through her hip, a kind of jab that a knife would jab completely through skin contact and she would've been paralyzed for life. But by God's grace (as Diane has said and prayed many times over during his distress), John had to end up experiencing Cam going through rehab.

Every and each step she would try to take, her breath would hitch in each of her step. Only a father watching his own child struggle through, while being helpless.

He hated it.

But since Soap has been her supportive friend (at first), he wouldn't have imagined Cam coming out strong and fighting her doubts and fears, despite the trauma she had experienced.

A part of him was grateful that she was back in her feet, while the other still have a fear (as a father) to not think of another worst case scenario to happen with his only child. But he won't lie that he had tried to be there for Cam, but he doesn't know how.

He wasn't good at coddling, nor showing off his emotions easily to anyone.

Hell, he wasn't good at communicating either.

That wasn't what he was raised in this belief.

He was always a soldier first before a father second. And yet, Diane had to change his mind or his belief and push him to make a change... little by little.

"I'm only saying this because I don't want neither of you neglecting this special bond that a father would have only one in a lifetime. Don't let time slip away, John. She may be a woman, but in your heart, she's still your little girl. It's all I'm saying."

John almost smiled as he looked at his plate before her. "Noted."

"Speaking of your heart," she said before smiling as she took lightly stab a piece on her plate. "How have things been around here? Anything exciting happened while I was gone?"

John shrugged. "Not much. Just kept busy, took care of Rusty, and..." He paused, the thought of Charlie flitting through his mind. "...planned a hike with a friend."

She raised an eyebrow and a smile curled on her end lip. "A friend?"

"Yeah," he said before he took another bite of pasta.

Diane stared at him before she set her fork down, eyes narrowed. "Alright, spill. Who's this 'friend'? And don't tell me it's just anyone. You don't get out of your bubble for anyone, Johnathan."

He shifted, suddenly feeling the weight of her gaze. "It's a... woman."

Her eyebrows shot up.

"A woman?" She slowly grinned. "Johnathan Price talking to a woman? Now this is the first good news I've heard all day. Tell me more."

John rolled his eyes but couldn't fight the smirk. "It was Soap's idea. He got me on Sparkmatch, and we started talking." He paused, considering his words. "I thought I'd hold it against him, but now I'm wondering if I should thank him."

Diane laughed heartily. "So, your friend forced you out of your cave, and now you're hiking with someone who isn't your CO? It only took, what, a decade?"

"I've been busy," he said, crossing his arms with mock defensiveness.

"Oh, I know," Diane teased. "You and your call of duty. But it's about time, John. What's her name?"

"Charlotte. She goes by Charlie."

"I like it," Diane said, smiling.

"Yeah," John admitted and almost smiled. "Smart, curious... got a spark."

"A spark?" Diane repeated with a smirk. "Sounds like she's got you stepping out of your comfort zone."

"Maybe," he said, running a hand through his hair. "But I'm still testing the waters."

"Fair enough," Diane said, raising her glass. "To Soap, for giving you that push."

John scoffed. "Yeah, yeah. I'm still deciding if I owe him thanks or a punch."

Diane shook her head, laughing. "Thank him, John. You've been in your bubble too long. This is good for you."

"Carried away, aren't you?" he said, smirking.

"Not at all," Diane said with a knowing look. "It's something Jesus would do, you know."

"Really?" John asked, his tone almost skeptical, and he huffed a laugh. "I don't think my dating life is on His agenda."

Diane paused after she drank water from her glass. She set it down and looked at him, stern.

"Oh, you don't think it is?" She raised an eyebrow. "Listen, son. Jesus always pushes people out of their comfort zones. Called fishermen to be preachers, made a tax collector leave everything, and even had Peter walk on water. Getting you to go on a hike with a woman? Easy for Him."

"That's not what I mean..."

Diane raised her finger to silence him and continued, "He brings people into our lives to show us that there's more to life than the walls we build." Then, she placed her hand on his arm, her eyes softening. "Don't let fear prevent you from truly living, John. The last thing you want is to miss out on God's blessing."

He looked down at her hand resting on his arm, feeling the unexpected warmth. "Alright. I'm sorry, you're right. I'll try... not to overthink it."

"Good," Diane said. "And remember, if He can get Peter out of a boat in a storm, this is nothing."

John chuckled, genuinely this time. "If you say so."

"Oh, I do," she said, leaning back with that knowing look. "And Johnathan?"

"Yes?" He looked up, surprised at the seriousness in her expression.

"Remember this," she paused before giving out words. "God's plan doesn't always make sense to us. It's not about whether you're ready. It's whether you're willing."

He nodded, the weight of her words settling over him. "Yes, ma'am."

She patted his arm and waved her hand dismissively as if it were nothing. "Now go get some rest. You've got another day to tackle."

John chuckled, pushing himself up from the table. "Right. Thanks for dinner."

As he stood to leave, Diane watched him until the door clicked shut behind him. She waited a moment, listening to his footsteps echo down the hall. Turning off the kitchen lights and turning on the fairy lights in her living room, she walked to the balcony, clasped her hands, and whispered into the night.

"Jesus, I don't know what You're doing with John but thank You for working in him. And if it's Your will, let this woman be someone who'll show him love and soften his heart."

She closed her eyes and felt a breeze drift in.

"Allow her to lift up his burdens, so he knows he's not alone."

✨Return to Masterlist (RTM)✨

✨Chapter 15✨

👉🏽 Return to Main Post (RTMP) 👈🏽

[somethingsomethingwitchcraft]

Burning Frankincense! I just learned how to, let me show you!

(dime for scale)

Like most people who burn good smelling stuff in their spiritual practice, I've used mostly incense sticks and cones because those are the cheapest and easiest to find in your local general store. But I recently went into a shop specifically for aromas, and the shop lady showed me how to burn these frankincense resin pellets!

Some of us might be familiar with charcoal tablets to burn herbs, but you can also use charcoal for resins, and even loose powdered incense. Though, if you're in the broom closet, new to witchcraft, or on a budget, you might not be aware this is what you can do with charcoal. Charcoal is great for any loose material you want to burn, not just resin.

Keep in mind, the charcoal keeps itself lit and makes a lot of CO2, so make sure you're not doing this around pets and people with sensitive lungs. ALWAYS make sure you're in a well ventilated area and keep your fire prevention tools in reach. NEVER burn charcoal in a container that can't handle heat like ceramics or plastics, and do not handle a metal container while it is lit, as charcoal makes a lot of heat and keeps it for a long time. If you have a cast-iron cauldron, this is better suited for it, but you need sand or used ash around the charcoal as a anti-fire barrier. I would not recommend doing this indoors if you can help it.

This was not lit so that I could take a photo, but you should have more sand around the charcoal. But once you have it set up and lit the charcoal, you just place your item of choice on the charcoal, and it will ignite. Resin lights fast and will make a lot of smoke, so if you're just doing something small, chipping a piece off the charcoal and using just a bit of your item works best, otherwise the whole thing will keep going and you might set off a fire/CO2 detector somewhere. Lastly, if you get a headache, smother whatever you're burning and get fresh air.

I figured I'd post about my recent discovery here for y'all, since I don't see many posts on how to use things like charcoal, and most people use sticks not resin. Hope this was helpful!

[nainad123]

Industrial Garnet Market Size, Global Forecast, Industry Trends, Share, Growth, Insight, Impact of Inflation, Companies Analysis 2034

The industrial garnet market is expected to grow to a value of US$703.1 million by 2024. It is expected that the industry will grow at a rate of 5.4% CAGR between 2024 and 2034. It is expected that the industry will have grown to a value of US$ 1,189.7 million by 2034.

The growing demand for abrasive blasting processes in shipbuilding, metal fabrication, and the automotive industries is fueling an increase in demand for garnet in industry. Garnet is a highly efficient abrasive with high hardness, recyclability, and low dust generation, so it is popular in the marketplace for uses such as coating removal, surface preparation, and cleaning.

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Industry growth is due to ongoing advancements in industrial garnet processing technology. Refining, sorting, and extraction techniques are enhanced by developments that improve the quality and uniformity of garnet products. Not only do these technological advances make garnet perform better in a variety of applications, but they also provide potential for enhancing its utility, driving further industry growth.

Key Takeaways from the market Study

The industrial garnet market was estimated to be US$ 548.3 million in 2019 globally.

North America is forecasted to have a share in the market growing to 28.4% by the year 2024.

21.3% of the market will be shared by East Asia in 2024.

The US market will be valued at US$ 132.4 million in the year 2024, and a forecasted market share is expected to be 66.3%.

The Chinese industrial garnet market is expected to reach US$ 136.9 million in 2024.

Based on estimates, the water jet cutting industry is expected to hold 34.5% of the market in 2024.

"The growing demand for green and eco-friendly industrial garnet products presents a window of opportunity for manufacturers. The adoption of eco-friendly processes can meet regulatory needs as well as consumer trends," says a Fact.MR analyst.

Major Companies Featured in This Report

GMA Garnet Group

Indian Ocean Garnet Sands Company Ltd

Trimex Sands Private Limited

Barton International

Zircon Mineral Co.

Mohawk Garnet Inc.

Opta Minerals Inc.

Beach Minerals Company

Rizhao Garnet Ltd

V.V. Mineral Pvt. Ltd

Competitive Landscape

In order to enhance productivity and quality of products, industrial garnet companies are adopting cutting-edge mining and processing technology. They utilize high-end extraction methods, precise sorting, and quality control procedures. Keeping in mind industrial demands and global standards, ecologically sound and sustainable operations with technology integration are also being given high priority.

Industrial garnet startups are continuously evolving by adopting environmentally friendly mining practices, employing better processing technology, and exploring new applications for garnets. They aim to revolutionize traditional practices, reduce their adverse impacts on the environment, and meet evolving consumer demands in industries such as industrial filtration, waterjet cutting, and abrasives.

Product Portfolio

Zircon Mineral Co. is widely recognized to provide zircon and other minerals to industry. Zircon Mineral Co. specializes in extracting, preparing, and distributing zircon sand and related minerals. Zircon Mineral Co. frequently provides high-grade zircon sand for foundry casting, ceramics, refractories, and production of zirconium metal. Zircon Mineral Co. also handles other mineral products such as garnet, ilmenite, and rutile.

Mohawk Garnet Inc. is widely recognized for prioritizing the delivery of high-grade garnet products. The company specializes in processing and mining industrial garnet and provides garnet abrasives for possible applications in sandblasting, water treatment, and cutting with water jets. Mohawk Garnet Inc. is noted to have achieved reputation through emphasis on quality assurance to ensure its garnet products meet industry quality requirements.

Read More: https://www.factmr.com/report/industrial-garnet-market 

More Valuable Insights Available:

Fact.MR offers an unbiased analysis of the global industrial garnet, providing historical data for 2019 to 2023 and forecast statistics from 2024–2034.

To understand opportunities in the industrial garnet market, the market is segmented on the basis of application (water jet cutting, abrasive blasting, water filtration, abrasive powders, others), and region (North America, Europe, Latin America, East Asia, South Asia & Oceania, Middle East & Africa).

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐭:

US Sales Office 11140 Rockville Pike Suite 400 Rockville, MD 20852 United States Tel: +1 (628) 251-1583, +353-1-4434-232 Email: sales@factmr.com

[jollysmith13]

Why Myanmar’s Ceramic Industry Trusts Indian Zircon Powder: A Guide to Zr-P5, HL Series & More

Introduction

In Myanmar’s fast-developing ceramic and tile manufacturing sector, the demand for high-quality zircon products is rising. From durable tile glazes to heat-resistant sanitaryware coatings, zircon-based materials — especially zirconium silicate — have become essential to production lines across the country.

To meet this growing demand, many of Myanmar’s leading ceramic manufacturers are partnering with Indian exporters. India’s position as a top zircon flour manufacturing country, combined with advanced zirconium silicate manufacturing capabilities, ensures consistent supply, high purity, and competitive pricing.

In this guide, we explore why Myanmar’s ceramic industry increasingly relies on Indian zircon suppliers — especially trusted grades like Zr-P5, ZrS5, Zr-325, and the HL Series.

What Is Zircon and Why Does It Matter?

Zirconium silicate (ZrSiO₄) is a naturally occurring mineral that’s milled into fine powder and used across various industrial applications:

Ceramic tile and glaze manufacturing

Sanitaryware and porcelain production

Refractory and foundry applications

Casting, insulation, and abrasives

Its key benefits include:

High thermal resistance

Excellent chemical stability

Opacity and whiteness for smooth ceramic finishes

Why Indian Zircon Is the Preferred Choice for Myanmar

India is home to some of the world’s most advanced zirconium silicate manufacturing facilities. Leading zircon flour manufacturing companies like Astron Group have built a global reputation for providing reliable zircon for manufacture, especially for Southeast Asia and Europe.

✅ Benefits of Indian Zircon Exporters:

Consistent mesh size & purity

Export expertise with Myanmar trade compliance

Competitive pricing & volume flexibility

Tailored grades to match ceramic industry needs

Exploring Our Top Zircon Powder Grades

Indian zircon manufacturers offer a wide range of zircon products to match specific production requirements in Myanmar:

1. Zr-P5

Use: Premium ceramic glazes and sanitaryware

Feature: High whiteness, fine 325 mesh powder

Benefit: Enhances surface brightness & glaze texture

2. ZrS5

Use: Luxury tiles and specialty ceramics

Feature: Extra-high zirconium content

Benefit: Superior opacifying power

3. Zr-325

Use: Foundry and refractories

Feature: 325 mesh with excellent thermal tolerance

Benefit: Boosts performance under extreme heat

4. Zr-200

Use: Economical applications

Feature: 200 mesh powder

Benefit: Reliable results at a budget-friendly cost

5. HL-50, HL-40, HL-20 (HL Series)

Use: Multi-purpose ceramic and glaze applications

Feature: Custom zirconium silicate formulations

Benefit: Optimized balance of quality and cost for mass production

What Is Zircon for Manufacturing?

Zircon for manufacture refers to industrial-grade zircon powders used as a base material in ceramic production, casting, or refractories. For Myanmar’s growing construction and homeware industry, this ensures:

Durable, high-quality tiles and porcelain

Fewer glaze defects

Efficient firing processes

Myanmar & India: A Growing Ceramic Trade Link

As Myanmar modernizes its infrastructure, the ceramic industry plays a critical role — and so does its raw material supply. Indian zircon exporters like Astron Group are enabling local factories in Yangon, Mandalay, and beyond to scale production without compromising quality.

Key Highlights:

Fast shipping to Yangon Port

Custom packaging for humid conditions

Technical support for new manufacturers in Myanmar

About Our Zircon Flour Manufacturing Capabilities

At Astron Group, we follow a stringent process from zirconium silicate mining to micronization and packaging:

Selection of premium zircon sand

Milling to 200–325 mesh grades

Chemical processing to remove iron & impurities

Calcination for stability

Quality control and ISO testing

FAQ 

Who is the best zircon flour supplier for Myanmar?

Top Indian companies like Astron Group specialize in exporting zirconium silicate and zircon flour to Myanmar’s ceramic manufacturers.

What is the difference between Zr-P5 and Zr-325?

Zr-P5 is ideal for glazes with high whiteness. Zr-325 is more suited for thermal applications like refractories.

How do I choose zircon for manufacture?

Consider your production needs (glaze vs. casting), required mesh size, and thermal performance. Contact our experts for tailored suggestions.

Final Thoughts: Building Myanmar’s Future, One Tile at a Time

The success of Myanmar’s ceramic industry depends on access to the right materials — and zirconium silicate is at the core of it all. Whether you're producing sanitaryware, tiles, or refractories, selecting the right zircon for manufacture from a reliable zircon flour manufacturing company can elevate product quality and reduce costs.

[anand-londhe]

India Industrial Silica Market Research Report 2024(Status and Outlook)

Market Size

The India industrial silica market is projected to experience significant growth, expanding from USD X billion in 2024 to USD X billion by 2030. This growth is expected to occur at a Compound Annual Growth Rate (CAGR) of X% during the forecast period of 2024 to 2030.

The demand for industrial silica in India is bolstered by the rapid industrialization and urbanization trends, particularly in the manufacturing, construction, and automotive sectors.

Historically, the market size for industrial silica has shown consistent growth, driven by the increased demand for construction materials and the growing electronics market in India. The market has also benefited from government initiatives aimed at promoting industrial production, including the "Make in India" initiative and infrastructure development programs.

Industrial silica is a high-purity form of silicon dioxide (SiO2) that is widely used in various industrial applications. This versatile mineral is primarily sourced from sand, which is refined to produce different types of silica for specialized uses. In the context of the industrial silica market in India, silica is predominantly used in the production of glass, ceramics, casting, and in various chemical processes. Other notable uses include its role as a filler material in the production of rubber, plastics, and paints.

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The market for industrial silica in India is characterized by its diverse applications across multiple industries. These include manufacturing, automotive, construction, and electronics, where the mineral plays an essential role due to its physical properties such as high melting point, low thermal expansion, and resistance to chemicals.

India Industrial Silica Market: Market Segment Analysis

The India industrial silica market can be broken down into various segments based on different criteria such as application, type, and region. A deeper understanding of these segments provides valuable insights into the market dynamics and potential growth opportunities. This section will explore the segmentation of the India industrial silica market, covering key aspects like application and type.

Market Dynamics:

Drivers

The growth of the industrial silica market in India is primarily driven by several key factors:

Industrialization and Urbanization: With the rapid industrialization in India, particularly in sectors like construction, automotive, and electronics, the demand for high-quality industrial silica is on the rise.

Growth in Construction Industry: As India continues to experience urban growth, the need for industrial silica in the production of glass, ceramics, and other construction materials is increasing.

Demand from the Automotive Industry: The automotive sector's growth is driving demand for industrial silica, especially in the production of tires, lubricants, and plastic components.

Technological Advancements: Advances in silica processing techniques, including new methods to produce high-purity silica, are boosting its demand in specialized applications such as electronics and solar panel manufacturing.

Restraints

Despite the promising growth, the industrial silica market in India faces a few challenges:

Price Fluctuations: The prices of raw silica and its refined forms can be volatile due to fluctuations in global supply chains, particularly for sand and silica-related materials.

Environmental Concerns: The extraction of silica sand can lead to environmental degradation, including water scarcity, land erosion, and habitat destruction, which may result in regulatory challenges for mining operations.

Competition from Substitute Materials: The availability of alternative materials like synthetic silica and other industrial fillers can restrain the growth of the market.

Opportunities

The India industrial silica market presents several opportunities for growth:

Emerging Applications in Solar Energy: With the growing demand for renewable energy, especially solar power, there is an increasing need for industrial silica in the production of solar panels.

Expanding Electronics Industry: As India becomes a global hub for electronics manufacturing, the demand for industrial silica in components such as semiconductors and optical fibers is expected to grow.

Increasing Investment in Infrastructure: Ongoing government investment in infrastructure projects, including smart cities, highways, and residential complexes, provides a significant growth opportunity for the industrial silica market.

Challenges

The market also faces challenges such as:

Regulatory Hurdles: Government regulations regarding mining and extraction processes can pose challenges for companies involved in silica production.

Supply Chain Disruptions: Global supply chain disruptions, such as those caused by the COVID-19 pandemic, can impact the availability and price stability of industrial silica in India.

Market Segmentation (by Application)

The industrial silica market in India can be segmented based on its various applications, which include:

Glass Manufacturing

Foundry (Casting)

Construction (Concrete, Mortar, etc.)

Electronics (Semiconductors, Optical Fiber)

Automotive (Tires, Lubricants)

Rubber and Plastics

Market Segmentation (by Type)

The market can also be segmented based on the type of industrial silica:

High Purity Silica

Silica Sand

Fumed Silica

Precipitated Silica

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Key Companies

Some of the key players in the India industrial silica market include:

Company A – Leading supplier of industrial silica with a focus on sustainability and product innovation.

Company B – Renowned for its strong presence in the glass manufacturing sector.

Company C – A key player in the automotive and electronics sectors.

Geographic Segmentation

India's industrial silica market is geographically segmented into several regions, including:

North India

West India

South India

East India

Regional Analysis:

India's industrial silica market shows varied demand trends across different regions:

Northern India: The region, which includes key industrial hubs like Delhi, Haryana, and Punjab, has a growing demand for industrial silica, especially in the manufacturing of glass and ceramics.

Western India: States like Maharashtra and Gujarat have significant demand for silica due to the strong presence of the automotive and chemical industries.

Southern India: Known for its expanding electronics and solar energy sectors, southern states like Tamil Nadu, Karnataka, and Andhra Pradesh are witnessing growing demand for industrial silica in the manufacturing of electronic components and solar panels.

Eastern India: While the eastern region has relatively lower demand compared to other regions, it is witnessing steady growth, particularly in the construction sector.

Competitor Analysis:

The India industrial silica market is highly competitive, with numerous global and domestic players operating in the space. Key competitors include:

Silica Company A: A leading player known for its high-purity industrial silica used in a variety of applications, including glass manufacturing and electronics.

Silica Company B: A major supplier with a strong focus on sustainable mining practices and eco-friendly silica products.

Silica Company C: Known for its extensive distribution network and competitive pricing, serving a range of industries, including automotive and construction.

These companies utilize strategies such as product differentiation, technological advancements, and partnerships to maintain their competitive edge in the market. They also focus on expanding their product portfolios and enhancing their customer relationships to secure long-term growth.

FAQ Section:

1. What is the current market size of the Industrial Silica market in India?

The India industrial silica market is projected to grow from USD X billion in 2024 to USD X billion by 2030, at a CAGR of X%.

2. Which are the key companies operating in the Industrial Silica market?

Key players in the India industrial silica market include Company A, Company B, and Company C, among others.

3. What are the key growth drivers in the Industrial Silica market?

The key growth drivers include industrialization, growth in construction and automotive sectors, demand from electronics manufacturing, and technological advancements in silica processing.

4. Which regions dominate the Industrial Silica market?

Western and Southern India dominate the industrial silica market due to strong industries like automotive, electronics, and construction in these regions.

5. What are the emerging trends in the Industrial Silica market?

Emerging trends include increased demand from the solar energy sector and the growing electronics industry in India.

Download & Explore the Report

[literaturereviewhelp]

Casting and forging are the main methods used during the manufacturing process of 30”MKIII highlift foot valve body. Casting is the most preferred methods due to its advantage. Casting has also been selected as the method for manufacturing body of the footvalve. The process involves creating a mould, melting the steel, pouring the molten steel, cooling, removing the parts from the mould, welding and machining. The processes are simple but require a lot of expertise. The total cost of manufacturing a single unit is $ 110. It can be sold at a price of S 130 in order to obtain profitability. Introduction The 30”MKIII highlift footvalve requires high levels of effectiveness in order to ensure that it functions correctly. This is dependent on the manufacturing process used. Various factors have to be considered during the manufacturing process. Different methods are used by different organizations to manufacture the body of the footvalve. Fort Vale Engineering Ltd in Burnley is a leading manufacturer of valves (Fort Vale Engineering Ltd, 2015). It utilizes unique methods during the manufacture of the footvalves. This is mainly for the purposes of ensuring that it meets the specifications of the customers. The paper is a report about the manufacture of a 30”MKIII highlift footvalve body in relation to Fort Vale Engineering Ltd. Discussion Possible manufacturing methods Casting Casting is one of the methods that are used in the manufacture of the body of the foot valve. Casting is an effective method and it can lead to the manufacture of the footvalve body through different types of metals. The stainless steel as well as iron can also be used during the process. This method is flexible and it ensures that the required quality is met during the manufacturing process. Casting is a method that is widely used by most of the manufacture and this includes Fort Vale Engineering Ltd (Fort Vale Engineering Ltd, 2015). This method is cost effective as a result of using a wide range of materials. The steel casting method is effective as it also ensures that the required strength is attained. The casting method does not require much labour as compared to the other methods. Dimensional accuracy can also be achieved through the use of the casting method. 30”MKIII highlift footvalve When casting steel, sand or ceramic mould with the shape of the footvalve body parts is usually developed. Steel is heated to molten state before being poured on the ceramic or sand mould. It is then allowed to cool for a specified period of time before the body is removed. When using this method, the mould must be strong enough to support the weight of the molten metal. Read the full article

[tameblog]

Popular summers flower for beds and borders as well as city, cottage, and courtyard gardens, cheery Shasta daisies are valued for the masses of snow white flowers with bright, sunshine yellow center discs. They make delightful container plants too, adding their long flowering season to a variety of settings such as balconies, decks, and patios, or scattered throughout the landscape. We link to vendors to help you find relevant products. If you buy from one of our links, we may earn a commission. Blooming all summer, the adorable ray-like flowers attract pollinators such as bees and butterflies and also draw in beneficial predator insects like ladybugs and lacewings. Hardy and vigorous, these clumping perennials are also easy to grow and herbivores like deer and rabbits typically don’t bother them. In our guide to growing Shasta daisies, we cover how to cultivate these perennials in the landscape. Is your container garden in need of some long-lasting, radiant blooms this summer? Then let’s shine a light on how to grow Shasta daisies in containers. Here’s a quick look at what’s ahead: Shasta Daisy Basics Shasta daisies prefer a full sun location but are tolerant of a little light shade. They need soil that’s rich in organic matter and well-draining, particularly in winter, and with a slightly acidic to neutral pH of 5.5 to 7.0. Although they can tolerate short bouts of drought once established, they do better with regular waterings, keeping the soil evenly moist. Hardy in Zones 4 to 9, you should aim to plant out after all danger of frost has passed. Shastas can be propagated by seed or division, but bear in mind the seed collected from hybrid plants may not grow true to the parent plant. Container Choices When choosing containers, opt for vessels large enough to accommodate the spreading roots, as these plants form clumps. Pots with a minimum depth and diameter of 12 inches is a good starting size. A variety of container materials are suitable, including ceramic, fiberglass, fiberstone, hypertufa, metal, terra cotta, and wood. Since you can leave the plants outdoors during the winter in many regions, you’ll want to avoid container materials that are easily damaged by cold weather, such as ceramic and terra cotta. Planters must have drainage holes in the bottom to prevent the soil from becoming waterlogged – wet conditions can easily lead to crown collapse and root rot. I like to line the bottom of my containers with a two-inch layer of chunky porous materials such as broken pottery, pebbles, or shells before adding soil. This helps to expedite drainage and prevent soggy soil at the deeper levels. If you use pebbles, place them carefully so they don’t accidentally plug the drainage holes. A layer of drainage material isn’t mandatory, but I find it makes a noticeable difference to the vigor of many potted plants – particularly those that don’t like wet feet, like Shasta daisies. Place containers in a spot with full sun or morning sun with light afternoon shade. If your containers are going to be kept on a balcony, courtyard, deck, or patio, use a catchment saucer to collect any water overflow and avoid staining surfaces. To minimize staining even more, use pot toes to elevate containers and saucers away from surfaces such as bricks, decking, pavers, and tiles. Planting The ideal growing medium for Shasta daisies is soil that’s nutrient-rich with a loose, lofty composition and it must be well-draining. Photo by Lorna Kring. For best results, use good quality commercial potting soil and amend as follows: Start with two parts potting soil. Mix in a generous one part of organic compost, well-rotted manure, or worm castings. Mix in one part of grit to sharpen the drainage and improve water saturation, using materials such as landscape sand, pea gravel, perlite, or stone chips. Avoid using potting soils with a high peat moss content – peat is slow to absorb water and retains moisture in the soil. Wet soil can be problematic for the crown and roots. Also, don’t use garden soil. Its composition is too heavy for container plants and it tends to compact easily. Spring is the best time to pot up nursery plants, direct sow seeds, or start seeds indoors. Pot up Shasta daisies in spring when all danger of frost has passed. They can also be planted in fall, but spring planting gives the roots an entire growing season to become established before cold weather arrives. Fill your containers with enriched and amended soil and create an appropriately sized planting hole – twice as wide and a little deeper than the root ball. Mix in one or two tablespoons of bone meal to promote healthy root growth and enhance bud set. Remove plants from their nursery containers and carefully brush away the soil to loosen the roots. Set plants in place at the same depth as they were in their nursery containers – or with the crown or top of the root ball even with the soil line. Backfill with soil and gently firm in place. Water gently but thoroughly to settle in place, ensuring the entire root ball receives water. To help retain moisture you can add a two-inch layer of mulch using materials such as shredded bark, decorative pebbles, or straw. Make sure you leave a mulch-free space or collar around the base of the plant to avoid stem rot. Sowing Seeds To sow seeds directly, prepare your containers with amended soil as outlined above. Sow seeds in mid to late spring, or when the soil temperature stays above 60°F. They can also be sown throughout the summer until about two months before the first expected frost date. Scatter seeds a few inches apart then cover with an eighth of an inch of soil. Water gently and keep the soil lightly moist until after germination, which should happen in about 10 to 21 days. When the seedlings are two inches tall, thin them to two or three plants 10 to 12 inches apart, depending on the size of your container. Once seedlings are six inches tall, pinch out the growing tips to encourage branching and more flowers. Start Seeds Indoors To start plants earlier, sow them indoors about eight weeks before the last frost date. Prepare trays or small starter pots with a good quality starter soil mix that’s well-moistened but not soaking wet. Sprinkle the seeds over the soil then press lightly into the surface with your fingertips. Place the tray or pots in a warm location with bright, indirect light. When the seedlings are two to four inches tall and have at least two sets of true leaves, you can harden off and transplant into their permanent pots. Make sure all risk of frost has passed! Container Care Shastas are relatively low maintenance and moderate feeders – avoid overfertilizing which can produce lanky growth and floppy stems. You can use a slow-release, all-purpose fertilizer into the soil in spring. Use a formula with a slightly higher level of phosphorus than nitrogen, or a balanced NPK ratio such as 4-4-4. I use Burpee’s All Purpose Granular Plant Food which is versatile and suitable for many different flowering plants. Burpee All Purpose Granular Plant Food It’s available at Burpee in four-pound bags. Alternatively, use a balanced liquid or water-soluble fertilizer applied at half strength every four to six weeks during the growing season. Although these plants are quite durable and can withstand short bouts of dry conditions, for the most robust plants with ample flowers, aim to provide regular water in the absence of rain. Water deeply to saturate the entire rootball then allow the top inch or two of soil to dry between applications. In hot weather, container plants may need to be watered every few days to prevent them from drying out completely. Always water at the soil level to avoid damp foliage as this can promote fungal growth. Cultivars to Select Shasta daisies are available in a nice selection of single and double varieties in white or pale yellow. Here are some suggestions to get you started: Banana Cream ‘Banana Cream’ has large, single flowers that open a bright lemony-yellow and gradually fade to soft creamy white. Each bloom is about three to four inches wide with golden yellow centers. This cultivar has a long flowering period from early summer through early fall when deadheaded regularly. ‘Banana Cream’ The plants grow to about 18 to 24 inches tall with a compact, well-branched habit and strong stems. You can find ‘Banana Cream’ plants available at Burpee. Becky ‘Becky’ features single-petaled white flowers with golden yellow centers, measuring three to four inches across. This cultivar is notably long-flowering, blooming from early summer through early fall, with excellent heat tolerance. ‘Becky’ It grows a bit taller than many Shasta daisies at three to four feet with sturdy stems. ‘Becky’ was named Perennial Plant of the Year in 2003 by the Perennial Plant Association. You can find ‘Becky’ in #1 containers available at Nature Hills Nursery. Daisy May Amazing Daisies® Daisy May® (also known as ‘Daisy Duke’) sports large, single white flowers with bright yellow centers, typically measuring two to three inches across. This compact cultivar is notably long-flowering, blooming from late spring through early fall if you keep up with deadheading. Daisy May It grows to a modest height of 12 to 18 inches. The compact size and strong stems eliminate the need for staking, making it ideal for containers. You can find Daisy May® available in #1 containers at Nature Hills Nursery. Marshmallow With large, fully double white flowers and no visible yellow centers when fully open, ‘Marshmallow’ is gorgeous in containers. Each bloom measures approximately three to four inches in diameter on plants that reach heights of 18 to 24 inches. ‘Marshmallow’ This cultivar has a moderately long flowering period from early to late summer. You can find ‘Marshmallow’ in #1 containers from Nature Hills Nursery. Maintenance These easy-care plants don’t require a lot of attention, but it’s a good idea to regularly deadhead spent flowers to encourage more blooms. Shastas spread and clump readily, and benefit from being divided in spring or repotted into fresh soil every two or three years to avoid plants from becoming root bound. In colder climates, the plants die back after the first hard frost and enter dormancy in winter. Prepare them for winter by removing catchment saucers and adding a two- to four-inch layer of winter mulch. Use materials such as shredded bark, chopped leaves, or straw to prevent the roots from heaving in freeze/thaw cycles. For extra protection, move containers into a sheltered site. Locations such as against a fence or foundation wall, under eaves, or tucked into shrubbery are usually a degree or two warmer than out in the open. If your winters are very dry, water lightly every few weeks to prevent the soil drying out completely, provided the soil is frozen. Prune back dead stems in early spring, cutting them back to about two inches. Bright and Cheerful With their bright, cheerful flowers that bloom all summer long, Shasta daisies are a reliable and easy choice for showy container gardens! Pot up nursery plants in early spring or direct sow seeds once the air and soil temperatures warm up. Remember to pinch out the growing tips to promote bushy growth, then water regularly and fertilize lightly for an abundance of sparkling blooms from June right into September! Are you growing Shasta daisies in containers? Let us know in the comments section below. And for more information about growing Shasta daisies, check out these guides next: Photo by Lorna Kring © Ask the Experts, LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. See our TOS for more details. Product photos via Burpee and Nature Hills Nursery. Uncredited photos: Shutterstock. !function(f,b,e,v,n,t,s) if(f.fbq)return;n=f.fbq=function()n.callMethod? n.callMethod.apply(n,arguments):n.queue.push(arguments); if(!f._fbq)f._fbq=n;n.push=n;n.loaded=!0;n.version='2.0'; n.queue=[];t=b.createElement(e);t.async=!0; t.src=v;s=b.getElementsByTagName(e)[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(t,s)(window, document,'script', ' fbq('init', '176410929431717'); fbq('track', 'PageView'); Source link

[ramestoryworld]

Popular summers flower for beds and borders as well as city, cottage, and courtyard gardens, cheery Shasta daisies are valued for the masses of snow white flowers with bright, sunshine yellow center discs. They make delightful container plants too, adding their long flowering season to a variety of settings such as balconies, decks, and patios, or scattered throughout the landscape. We link to vendors to help you find relevant products. If you buy from one of our links, we may earn a commission. Blooming all summer, the adorable ray-like flowers attract pollinators such as bees and butterflies and also draw in beneficial predator insects like ladybugs and lacewings. Hardy and vigorous, these clumping perennials are also easy to grow and herbivores like deer and rabbits typically don’t bother them. In our guide to growing Shasta daisies, we cover how to cultivate these perennials in the landscape. Is your container garden in need of some long-lasting, radiant blooms this summer? Then let’s shine a light on how to grow Shasta daisies in containers. Here’s a quick look at what’s ahead: Shasta Daisy Basics Shasta daisies prefer a full sun location but are tolerant of a little light shade. They need soil that’s rich in organic matter and well-draining, particularly in winter, and with a slightly acidic to neutral pH of 5.5 to 7.0. Although they can tolerate short bouts of drought once established, they do better with regular waterings, keeping the soil evenly moist. Hardy in Zones 4 to 9, you should aim to plant out after all danger of frost has passed. Shastas can be propagated by seed or division, but bear in mind the seed collected from hybrid plants may not grow true to the parent plant. Container Choices When choosing containers, opt for vessels large enough to accommodate the spreading roots, as these plants form clumps. Pots with a minimum depth and diameter of 12 inches is a good starting size. A variety of container materials are suitable, including ceramic, fiberglass, fiberstone, hypertufa, metal, terra cotta, and wood. Since you can leave the plants outdoors during the winter in many regions, you’ll want to avoid container materials that are easily damaged by cold weather, such as ceramic and terra cotta. Planters must have drainage holes in the bottom to prevent the soil from becoming waterlogged – wet conditions can easily lead to crown collapse and root rot. I like to line the bottom of my containers with a two-inch layer of chunky porous materials such as broken pottery, pebbles, or shells before adding soil. This helps to expedite drainage and prevent soggy soil at the deeper levels. If you use pebbles, place them carefully so they don’t accidentally plug the drainage holes. A layer of drainage material isn’t mandatory, but I find it makes a noticeable difference to the vigor of many potted plants – particularly those that don’t like wet feet, like Shasta daisies. Place containers in a spot with full sun or morning sun with light afternoon shade. If your containers are going to be kept on a balcony, courtyard, deck, or patio, use a catchment saucer to collect any water overflow and avoid staining surfaces. To minimize staining even more, use pot toes to elevate containers and saucers away from surfaces such as bricks, decking, pavers, and tiles. Planting The ideal growing medium for Shasta daisies is soil that’s nutrient-rich with a loose, lofty composition and it must be well-draining. Photo by Lorna Kring. For best results, use good quality commercial potting soil and amend as follows: Start with two parts potting soil. Mix in a generous one part of organic compost, well-rotted manure, or worm castings. Mix in one part of grit to sharpen the drainage and improve water saturation, using materials such as landscape sand, pea gravel, perlite, or stone chips. Avoid using potting soils with a high peat moss content – peat is slow to absorb water and retains moisture in the soil. Wet soil can be problematic for the crown and roots. Also, don’t use garden soil. Its composition is too heavy for container plants and it tends to compact easily. Spring is the best time to pot up nursery plants, direct sow seeds, or start seeds indoors. Pot up Shasta daisies in spring when all danger of frost has passed. They can also be planted in fall, but spring planting gives the roots an entire growing season to become established before cold weather arrives. Fill your containers with enriched and amended soil and create an appropriately sized planting hole – twice as wide and a little deeper than the root ball. Mix in one or two tablespoons of bone meal to promote healthy root growth and enhance bud set. Remove plants from their nursery containers and carefully brush away the soil to loosen the roots. Set plants in place at the same depth as they were in their nursery containers – or with the crown or top of the root ball even with the soil line. Backfill with soil and gently firm in place. Water gently but thoroughly to settle in place, ensuring the entire root ball receives water. To help retain moisture you can add a two-inch layer of mulch using materials such as shredded bark, decorative pebbles, or straw. Make sure you leave a mulch-free space or collar around the base of the plant to avoid stem rot. Sowing Seeds To sow seeds directly, prepare your containers with amended soil as outlined above. Sow seeds in mid to late spring, or when the soil temperature stays above 60°F. They can also be sown throughout the summer until about two months before the first expected frost date. Scatter seeds a few inches apart then cover with an eighth of an inch of soil. Water gently and keep the soil lightly moist until after germination, which should happen in about 10 to 21 days. When the seedlings are two inches tall, thin them to two or three plants 10 to 12 inches apart, depending on the size of your container. Once seedlings are six inches tall, pinch out the growing tips to encourage branching and more flowers. Start Seeds Indoors To start plants earlier, sow them indoors about eight weeks before the last frost date. Prepare trays or small starter pots with a good quality starter soil mix that’s well-moistened but not soaking wet. Sprinkle the seeds over the soil then press lightly into the surface with your fingertips. Place the tray or pots in a warm location with bright, indirect light. When the seedlings are two to four inches tall and have at least two sets of true leaves, you can harden off and transplant into their permanent pots. Make sure all risk of frost has passed! Container Care Shastas are relatively low maintenance and moderate feeders – avoid overfertilizing which can produce lanky growth and floppy stems. You can use a slow-release, all-purpose fertilizer into the soil in spring. Use a formula with a slightly higher level of phosphorus than nitrogen, or a balanced NPK ratio such as 4-4-4. I use Burpee’s All Purpose Granular Plant Food which is versatile and suitable for many different flowering plants. Burpee All Purpose Granular Plant Food It’s available at Burpee in four-pound bags. Alternatively, use a balanced liquid or water-soluble fertilizer applied at half strength every four to six weeks during the growing season. Although these plants are quite durable and can withstand short bouts of dry conditions, for the most robust plants with ample flowers, aim to provide regular water in the absence of rain. Water deeply to saturate the entire rootball then allow the top inch or two of soil to dry between applications. In hot weather, container plants may need to be watered every few days to prevent them from drying out completely. Always water at the soil level to avoid damp foliage as this can promote fungal growth. Cultivars to Select Shasta daisies are available in a nice selection of single and double varieties in white or pale yellow. Here are some suggestions to get you started: Banana Cream ‘Banana Cream’ has large, single flowers that open a bright lemony-yellow and gradually fade to soft creamy white. Each bloom is about three to four inches wide with golden yellow centers. This cultivar has a long flowering period from early summer through early fall when deadheaded regularly. ‘Banana Cream’ The plants grow to about 18 to 24 inches tall with a compact, well-branched habit and strong stems. You can find ‘Banana Cream’ plants available at Burpee. Becky ‘Becky’ features single-petaled white flowers with golden yellow centers, measuring three to four inches across. This cultivar is notably long-flowering, blooming from early summer through early fall, with excellent heat tolerance. ‘Becky’ It grows a bit taller than many Shasta daisies at three to four feet with sturdy stems. ‘Becky’ was named Perennial Plant of the Year in 2003 by the Perennial Plant Association. You can find ‘Becky’ in #1 containers available at Nature Hills Nursery. Daisy May Amazing Daisies® Daisy May® (also known as ‘Daisy Duke’) sports large, single white flowers with bright yellow centers, typically measuring two to three inches across. This compact cultivar is notably long-flowering, blooming from late spring through early fall if you keep up with deadheading. Daisy May It grows to a modest height of 12 to 18 inches. The compact size and strong stems eliminate the need for staking, making it ideal for containers. You can find Daisy May® available in #1 containers at Nature Hills Nursery. Marshmallow With large, fully double white flowers and no visible yellow centers when fully open, ‘Marshmallow’ is gorgeous in containers. Each bloom measures approximately three to four inches in diameter on plants that reach heights of 18 to 24 inches. ‘Marshmallow’ This cultivar has a moderately long flowering period from early to late summer. You can find ‘Marshmallow’ in #1 containers from Nature Hills Nursery. Maintenance These easy-care plants don’t require a lot of attention, but it’s a good idea to regularly deadhead spent flowers to encourage more blooms. Shastas spread and clump readily, and benefit from being divided in spring or repotted into fresh soil every two or three years to avoid plants from becoming root bound. In colder climates, the plants die back after the first hard frost and enter dormancy in winter. Prepare them for winter by removing catchment saucers and adding a two- to four-inch layer of winter mulch. Use materials such as shredded bark, chopped leaves, or straw to prevent the roots from heaving in freeze/thaw cycles. For extra protection, move containers into a sheltered site. Locations such as against a fence or foundation wall, under eaves, or tucked into shrubbery are usually a degree or two warmer than out in the open. If your winters are very dry, water lightly every few weeks to prevent the soil drying out completely, provided the soil is frozen. Prune back dead stems in early spring, cutting them back to about two inches. Bright and Cheerful With their bright, cheerful flowers that bloom all summer long, Shasta daisies are a reliable and easy choice for showy container gardens! Pot up nursery plants in early spring or direct sow seeds once the air and soil temperatures warm up. Remember to pinch out the growing tips to promote bushy growth, then water regularly and fertilize lightly for an abundance of sparkling blooms from June right into September! Are you growing Shasta daisies in containers? Let us know in the comments section below. And for more information about growing Shasta daisies, check out these guides next: Photo by Lorna Kring © Ask the Experts, LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. See our TOS for more details. Product photos via Burpee and Nature Hills Nursery. Uncredited photos: Shutterstock. !function(f,b,e,v,n,t,s) if(f.fbq)return;n=f.fbq=function()n.callMethod? n.callMethod.apply(n,arguments):n.queue.push(arguments); if(!f._fbq)f._fbq=n;n.push=n;n.loaded=!0;n.version='2.0'; n.queue=[];t=b.createElement(e);t.async=!0; t.src=v;s=b.getElementsByTagName(e)[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(t,s)(window, document,'script', ' fbq('init', '176410929431717'); fbq('track', 'PageView'); Source link

[alexha2210]

Popular summers flower for beds and borders as well as city, cottage, and courtyard gardens, cheery Shasta daisies are valued for the masses of snow white flowers with bright, sunshine yellow center discs. They make delightful container plants too, adding their long flowering season to a variety of settings such as balconies, decks, and patios, or scattered throughout the landscape. We link to vendors to help you find relevant products. If you buy from one of our links, we may earn a commission. Blooming all summer, the adorable ray-like flowers attract pollinators such as bees and butterflies and also draw in beneficial predator insects like ladybugs and lacewings. Hardy and vigorous, these clumping perennials are also easy to grow and herbivores like deer and rabbits typically don’t bother them. In our guide to growing Shasta daisies, we cover how to cultivate these perennials in the landscape. Is your container garden in need of some long-lasting, radiant blooms this summer? Then let’s shine a light on how to grow Shasta daisies in containers. Here’s a quick look at what’s ahead: Shasta Daisy Basics Shasta daisies prefer a full sun location but are tolerant of a little light shade. They need soil that’s rich in organic matter and well-draining, particularly in winter, and with a slightly acidic to neutral pH of 5.5 to 7.0. Although they can tolerate short bouts of drought once established, they do better with regular waterings, keeping the soil evenly moist. Hardy in Zones 4 to 9, you should aim to plant out after all danger of frost has passed. Shastas can be propagated by seed or division, but bear in mind the seed collected from hybrid plants may not grow true to the parent plant. Container Choices When choosing containers, opt for vessels large enough to accommodate the spreading roots, as these plants form clumps. Pots with a minimum depth and diameter of 12 inches is a good starting size. A variety of container materials are suitable, including ceramic, fiberglass, fiberstone, hypertufa, metal, terra cotta, and wood. Since you can leave the plants outdoors during the winter in many regions, you’ll want to avoid container materials that are easily damaged by cold weather, such as ceramic and terra cotta. Planters must have drainage holes in the bottom to prevent the soil from becoming waterlogged – wet conditions can easily lead to crown collapse and root rot. I like to line the bottom of my containers with a two-inch layer of chunky porous materials such as broken pottery, pebbles, or shells before adding soil. This helps to expedite drainage and prevent soggy soil at the deeper levels. If you use pebbles, place them carefully so they don’t accidentally plug the drainage holes. A layer of drainage material isn’t mandatory, but I find it makes a noticeable difference to the vigor of many potted plants – particularly those that don’t like wet feet, like Shasta daisies. Place containers in a spot with full sun or morning sun with light afternoon shade. If your containers are going to be kept on a balcony, courtyard, deck, or patio, use a catchment saucer to collect any water overflow and avoid staining surfaces. To minimize staining even more, use pot toes to elevate containers and saucers away from surfaces such as bricks, decking, pavers, and tiles. Planting The ideal growing medium for Shasta daisies is soil that’s nutrient-rich with a loose, lofty composition and it must be well-draining. Photo by Lorna Kring. For best results, use good quality commercial potting soil and amend as follows: Start with two parts potting soil. Mix in a generous one part of organic compost, well-rotted manure, or worm castings. Mix in one part of grit to sharpen the drainage and improve water saturation, using materials such as landscape sand, pea gravel, perlite, or stone chips. Avoid using potting soils with a high peat moss content – peat is slow to absorb water and retains moisture in the soil. Wet soil can be problematic for the crown and roots. Also, don’t use garden soil. Its composition is too heavy for container plants and it tends to compact easily. Spring is the best time to pot up nursery plants, direct sow seeds, or start seeds indoors. Pot up Shasta daisies in spring when all danger of frost has passed. They can also be planted in fall, but spring planting gives the roots an entire growing season to become established before cold weather arrives. Fill your containers with enriched and amended soil and create an appropriately sized planting hole – twice as wide and a little deeper than the root ball. Mix in one or two tablespoons of bone meal to promote healthy root growth and enhance bud set. Remove plants from their nursery containers and carefully brush away the soil to loosen the roots. Set plants in place at the same depth as they were in their nursery containers – or with the crown or top of the root ball even with the soil line. Backfill with soil and gently firm in place. Water gently but thoroughly to settle in place, ensuring the entire root ball receives water. To help retain moisture you can add a two-inch layer of mulch using materials such as shredded bark, decorative pebbles, or straw. Make sure you leave a mulch-free space or collar around the base of the plant to avoid stem rot. Sowing Seeds To sow seeds directly, prepare your containers with amended soil as outlined above. Sow seeds in mid to late spring, or when the soil temperature stays above 60°F. They can also be sown throughout the summer until about two months before the first expected frost date. Scatter seeds a few inches apart then cover with an eighth of an inch of soil. Water gently and keep the soil lightly moist until after germination, which should happen in about 10 to 21 days. When the seedlings are two inches tall, thin them to two or three plants 10 to 12 inches apart, depending on the size of your container. Once seedlings are six inches tall, pinch out the growing tips to encourage branching and more flowers. Start Seeds Indoors To start plants earlier, sow them indoors about eight weeks before the last frost date. Prepare trays or small starter pots with a good quality starter soil mix that’s well-moistened but not soaking wet. Sprinkle the seeds over the soil then press lightly into the surface with your fingertips. Place the tray or pots in a warm location with bright, indirect light. When the seedlings are two to four inches tall and have at least two sets of true leaves, you can harden off and transplant into their permanent pots. Make sure all risk of frost has passed! Container Care Shastas are relatively low maintenance and moderate feeders – avoid overfertilizing which can produce lanky growth and floppy stems. You can use a slow-release, all-purpose fertilizer into the soil in spring. Use a formula with a slightly higher level of phosphorus than nitrogen, or a balanced NPK ratio such as 4-4-4. I use Burpee’s All Purpose Granular Plant Food which is versatile and suitable for many different flowering plants. Burpee All Purpose Granular Plant Food It’s available at Burpee in four-pound bags. Alternatively, use a balanced liquid or water-soluble fertilizer applied at half strength every four to six weeks during the growing season. Although these plants are quite durable and can withstand short bouts of dry conditions, for the most robust plants with ample flowers, aim to provide regular water in the absence of rain. Water deeply to saturate the entire rootball then allow the top inch or two of soil to dry between applications. In hot weather, container plants may need to be watered every few days to prevent them from drying out completely. Always water at the soil level to avoid damp foliage as this can promote fungal growth. Cultivars to Select Shasta daisies are available in a nice selection of single and double varieties in white or pale yellow. Here are some suggestions to get you started: Banana Cream ‘Banana Cream’ has large, single flowers that open a bright lemony-yellow and gradually fade to soft creamy white. Each bloom is about three to four inches wide with golden yellow centers. This cultivar has a long flowering period from early summer through early fall when deadheaded regularly. ‘Banana Cream’ The plants grow to about 18 to 24 inches tall with a compact, well-branched habit and strong stems. You can find ‘Banana Cream’ plants available at Burpee. Becky ‘Becky’ features single-petaled white flowers with golden yellow centers, measuring three to four inches across. This cultivar is notably long-flowering, blooming from early summer through early fall, with excellent heat tolerance. ‘Becky’ It grows a bit taller than many Shasta daisies at three to four feet with sturdy stems. ‘Becky’ was named Perennial Plant of the Year in 2003 by the Perennial Plant Association. You can find ‘Becky’ in #1 containers available at Nature Hills Nursery. Daisy May Amazing Daisies® Daisy May® (also known as ‘Daisy Duke’) sports large, single white flowers with bright yellow centers, typically measuring two to three inches across. This compact cultivar is notably long-flowering, blooming from late spring through early fall if you keep up with deadheading. Daisy May It grows to a modest height of 12 to 18 inches. The compact size and strong stems eliminate the need for staking, making it ideal for containers. You can find Daisy May® available in #1 containers at Nature Hills Nursery. Marshmallow With large, fully double white flowers and no visible yellow centers when fully open, ‘Marshmallow’ is gorgeous in containers. Each bloom measures approximately three to four inches in diameter on plants that reach heights of 18 to 24 inches. ‘Marshmallow’ This cultivar has a moderately long flowering period from early to late summer. You can find ‘Marshmallow’ in #1 containers from Nature Hills Nursery. Maintenance These easy-care plants don’t require a lot of attention, but it’s a good idea to regularly deadhead spent flowers to encourage more blooms. Shastas spread and clump readily, and benefit from being divided in spring or repotted into fresh soil every two or three years to avoid plants from becoming root bound. In colder climates, the plants die back after the first hard frost and enter dormancy in winter. Prepare them for winter by removing catchment saucers and adding a two- to four-inch layer of winter mulch. Use materials such as shredded bark, chopped leaves, or straw to prevent the roots from heaving in freeze/thaw cycles. For extra protection, move containers into a sheltered site. Locations such as against a fence or foundation wall, under eaves, or tucked into shrubbery are usually a degree or two warmer than out in the open. If your winters are very dry, water lightly every few weeks to prevent the soil drying out completely, provided the soil is frozen. Prune back dead stems in early spring, cutting them back to about two inches. Bright and Cheerful With their bright, cheerful flowers that bloom all summer long, Shasta daisies are a reliable and easy choice for showy container gardens! Pot up nursery plants in early spring or direct sow seeds once the air and soil temperatures warm up. Remember to pinch out the growing tips to promote bushy growth, then water regularly and fertilize lightly for an abundance of sparkling blooms from June right into September! Are you growing Shasta daisies in containers? Let us know in the comments section below. And for more information about growing Shasta daisies, check out these guides next: Photo by Lorna Kring © Ask the Experts, LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. See our TOS for more details. Product photos via Burpee and Nature Hills Nursery. Uncredited photos: Shutterstock. !function(f,b,e,v,n,t,s) if(f.fbq)return;n=f.fbq=function()n.callMethod? n.callMethod.apply(n,arguments):n.queue.push(arguments); if(!f._fbq)f._fbq=n;n.push=n;n.loaded=!0;n.version='2.0'; n.queue=[];t=b.createElement(e);t.async=!0; t.src=v;s=b.getElementsByTagName(e)[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(t,s)(window, document,'script', ' fbq('init', '176410929431717'); fbq('track', 'PageView'); Source link