#Electrical Steel Prices

[chemanalystdata]

Electrical Steel Prices, News, Trend, Graph, Chart, Monitor and Forecast

The global market for electrical steel prices has garnered significant attention in recent years, driven by the increasing demand for energy-efficient materials in various industries. Electrical steel, also known as silicon steel or lamination steel, plays a crucial role in the performance of transformers, motors, and generators. Its unique magnetic properties, such as high permeability and low core loss, make it indispensable in the electrical and automotive sectors. The dynamics of the electrical steel market are influenced by several factors, including raw material costs, supply chain disruptions, regulatory policies, and evolving technological advancements. As the world continues to shift toward renewable energy sources and electric vehicles (EVs), the demand for high-quality electrical steel is expected to surge, leading to fluctuations in pricing.

One of the primary drivers of electrical steel prices is the cost of raw materials, particularly iron ore and silicon. Fluctuations in the prices of these materials have a direct impact on the final cost of electrical steel. Additionally, energy costs, which are significant in the steel production process, contribute to the overall pricing structure. With rising energy prices globally, manufacturers are compelled to adjust their pricing strategies to maintain profitability. Geopolitical tensions and trade policies further complicate the supply chain, influencing market dynamics. For instance, tariffs on steel imports in various countries can cause supply shortages or surpluses, impacting prices regionally.

Get Real time Prices for Electrical Steel: https://www.chemanalyst.com/Pricing-data/electrical-steel-1357

The automotive industry has emerged as a major consumer of electrical steel, especially with the growing adoption of electric vehicles. EV manufacturers require electrical steel for motors and battery systems, which has intensified demand. As countries implement stricter emissions regulations and promote clean energy vehicles, the need for electrical steel continues to rise. This increased demand exerts upward pressure on prices, particularly for high-grade non-grain-oriented (NGO) electrical steel, which is essential for efficient motor performance. Simultaneously, grain-oriented electrical steel (GOES), primarily used in transformers, witnesses price changes in response to power infrastructure developments worldwide.

Renewable energy projects also significantly influence electrical steel market prices. The expansion of wind and solar power generation requires transformers and generators that rely on electrical steel. Governments across the globe are investing in renewable energy to reduce carbon footprints, thereby boosting the demand for electrical steel. For instance, large-scale wind turbines utilize considerable amounts of electrical steel in their cores, and with the increasing number of such installations, the market experiences periodic price increases.

Regional market dynamics present a diverse picture of electrical steel pricing trends. In Asia-Pacific, particularly in China and India, rapid industrialization and infrastructure development fuel substantial demand for electrical steel. China, as a dominant player in the steel industry, significantly influences global prices through its production capacity and export policies. The Chinese government's policies on energy consumption and emission control have led to periodic production cuts, affecting the global supply and pricing. Meanwhile, Europe and North America experience pricing shifts due to infrastructure upgrades and the transition toward sustainable energy sources.

Technological advancements in steel manufacturing processes contribute to pricing trends as well. Innovations aimed at enhancing steel quality, reducing energy consumption, and minimizing production costs play a critical role in market competitiveness. The introduction of advanced high-grade electrical steels with superior magnetic properties has led to premium pricing compared to conventional grades. Manufacturers continuously invest in research and development to meet the evolving requirements of the automotive and energy sectors, resulting in dynamic pricing patterns.

The COVID-19 pandemic disrupted global supply chains, causing significant fluctuations in electrical steel prices. Lockdowns, transportation restrictions, and labor shortages hindered production and distribution, leading to supply-demand imbalances. As economies gradually recovered, the surge in demand, coupled with constrained supply, caused sharp price increases. The post-pandemic market continues to experience volatility as manufacturers navigate logistical challenges and shifting demand patterns.

Looking ahead, the electrical steel market is expected to witness continued growth, driven by the ongoing energy transition and the electrification of transportation. The push for carbon neutrality encourages investments in renewable energy infrastructure, further propelling demand for electrical steel. However, the market may face challenges such as raw material scarcity, regulatory changes, and geopolitical uncertainties. Stakeholders across the value chain must adopt flexible strategies to mitigate risks and capitalize on emerging opportunities.

In conclusion, electrical steel prices are influenced by a complex interplay of factors, including raw material costs, industrial demand, technological advancements, and global economic conditions. As the world moves toward a more sustainable and electrified future, the demand for electrical steel is poised to grow, potentially leading to price volatility. Monitoring market trends, investing in innovation, and adapting to regulatory changes will be essential for industry players to navigate the evolving landscape successfully. The continuous development of renewable energy projects and electric vehicles will remain pivotal in shaping the future trajectory of electrical steel prices on a global scale.

Get Real time Prices for Electrical Steel: https://www.chemanalyst.com/Pricing-data/electrical-steel-1357

Contact Us:

ChemAnalyst

GmbH - S-01, 2.floor, Subbelrather Straße,

15a Cologne, 50823, Germany

Call: +49-221-6505-8833

Email: sales@chemanalyst.com

Website: https://www.chemanalyst.com

[handykitchen]

Choosing the Perfect Pressure Cooker in the USA: A Guide to Smart Purchase Decisions

A pressure cooker is a versatile and time-saving kitchen appliance that has gained popularity among home cooks in the United States. With numerous models and brands available in the market, finding the right pressure cooker can be a daunting task. This article aims to guide consumers in the USA through the process of buying a pressure cooker, highlighting the benefits, key features to consider, popular brands, and tips for making a smart purchase decision.

1. The Benefits of Pressure Cookers:

Pressure cookers offer a range of benefits that make them a valuable addition to any Buy pressure cooker online. Some advantages include:

- Time Efficiency: Pressure cookers use high-pressure steam to cook food quickly, reducing cooking times by up to 70%. This time-saving feature is especially beneficial for busy individuals or families.

- Energy Efficiency: Buy pressure cooker online require less energy compared to traditional cooking methods, making them an environmentally friendly choice.

- Retained Nutrients: The high-pressure cooking process helps retain the nutrients and flavors of ingredients, resulting in healthier and more delicious meals.

- Versatility: Pressure cookers are suitable for a wide range of cooking tasks, including boiling, steaming, sautéing, and slow cooking. They can handle a variety of ingredients, from meats and grains to vegetables and soups.

2. Key Features to Consider:

When purchasing a pressure cooker in the USA, there are several essential features to consider:

- Size and Capacity: Pressure cookers come in various sizes, ranging from 4 quarts to 10 quarts or more. Choose a size that suits your cooking needs and kitchen space.

- Safety Features: Look for pressure cookers with safety features like pressure release valves, locking lids, and indicator systems that ensure safe operation.

- Pressure Settings: Opt for a pressure cooker that offers adjustable pressure settings. Different recipes may require different pressure levels for optimal cooking results.

- Material and Construction: Stainless steel pressure cookers are popular due to their durability and resistance to corrosion. Consider the quality of the construction, including the thickness of the pot and the quality of the handles and seals.

- Accessories and Additional Functions: Some pressure cookers come with additional accessories like steam racks, trivets, and multiple cooking modes. These features can enhance the versatility and functionality of the appliance.

3. Popular Pressure Cooker Brands:

Several reputable brands offer high-quality pressure cookers in the USA. Consider these popular brands when making a purchase decision:

- Instant Pot: Instant Pot has gained a significant following for its multifunctional electric pressure cookers that combine pressure cooking, slow cooking, and more. Their models offer a wide range of features and cooking presets.

- Cuisinart: Cuisinart offers a variety of stovetop and electric pressure cookers known for their quality construction and precise cooking capabilities.

- Ninja Foodi: Ninja Foodi offers pressure cookers with additional functionalities like air frying and crisping, allowing for versatile cooking in a single appliance.

- Fagor: Fagor is a trusted brand known for its durable stovetop and electric pressure cookers with user-friendly features and safety mechanisms.

4. Tips for Making a Smart Purchase Decision:

- Research: Read reviews, compare prices, and research different models and brands to make an informed decision based on your specific needs.

- Budget: Determine your budget range and prioritize features that are essential to you. Consider the long-term value of the appliance and its durability.

- Warranty and Customer Support: Check for warranty coverage and availability of customer support for the chosen pressure cooker brand.

- Read the Manual: Once you purchase a pressure cooker, carefully read the instruction manual to understand its operation, safety precautions, and maintenance requirements. - Start with Basic Recipes: Begin your pressure cooking journey with simple recipes to familiarize yourself with the appliance and its functions.

[kicook]

Roasting Pan vs Electric Roaster: Which is Best for You?

Visit: Kicook.com for more details.

[sirfrogsworth]

The Price of "Efficiency"

There is a classic story about writing in space. It typically goes something like,

"NASA spent millions of dollars developing an ink pen so they could write in microgravity.

Russia used a pencil."

It became a parable about efficiency and bloated, wasteful budgets and overcomplication.

And without nuance, it feels like a good lesson. It's a simple teaching you can store in your brain and it can help you avoid complication when simplicity will work just as well.

But the parable is a lie.

There is a reason they spent millions of dollars making a space pen. Pencils in space are fucking dangerous. If one splinter or shard or speck gets loose in zero gravity that fucker can float directly into your eyeball.

There is a more modern version of this story. Congress will look over NASA or the military's budget and ask why they need $400 hammers or bolts that cost $50 apiece. They will hold up a bag of bolts and tell the taxpayer they are getting screwed.

But the NASA hammer has the pencil problem. If a shard of steel breaks off that hammer in zero gravity, it's a big problem. It could float into an important electrical system and cause a short. Maybe even a fire.

And those bolts might be for a $50 million fighter jet. They need to be custom manufactured to extreme tolerances. And you'll be glad you paid for those $50 bolts because replacing the fighter jet will end up being much more costly.

This is a concept Elon Musk should understand considering his work at SpaceX. People often deride SpaceX when a rocket blows up. They see it as a giant waste. But that is a normal part of rocket development. If you want to make a better rocket, you cannot avoid blowing a few into smithereens.

Everything needs context.

You have to consider nuance before making huge unilateral decisions about apparent wasteful spending. The folks who run these programs should be allowed to defend their existence. But outside his own interests, Elon can only seem to see space pens when Russian pencils will suffice. He is looking at these programs and making no effort to see the nuance.

They say USAID gives more money to "governance" than they give to "humanitarian aid."

HOW WASTEFUL!

Except a lot of humanitarian aid gets stolen without government infrastructure to secure and deliver said aid.

Waste happens. Fraud happens. I have no doubt.

But figuring out what is *actually* wasteful is a difficult job that takes a lot of research and understanding.

But also, sometimes the fraud and the waste are worth it. Large companies will actually factor theft and fraud into their budget because it would be more costly to try and prevent it. They consider it "the cost of doing business."

But it seems no fraud or waste is acceptable to a conservative when the goal is helping people. 100% efficiency is required. You can't give all kids school lunches because some of those kids have rich parents. You can't give people disability income because some will take advantage.

Apparently if you can help millions of people but you have to absorb 10% of the cost due to fraud... well that is just unacceptable.

It's better to help no one at all.

Oftentimes Republicans will create anti-fraud programs that end up costing more than the actual fraud happening. And all the anti-fraud programs end up doing is making deserving people jump through extra hoops.

Get a lawyer. See an approved doctor. Gather 20 years of evidence that you've been disabled. Whoops, they didn't request the proper records. Start over.

That was basically my disability case. I was already on disability. They had already determined I was disabled 20 years ago. But I had to prove that I was disabled all over again to get the better kind of disability. They couldn't take their own word that I was disabled.

Those hoops were created because catching fraud is more important than helping people.

Not terribly efficient.

And then there is the "not our problem" approach.

Taxpayer money is "wasted" helping people in other countries. "We have homeless veterans! Why are we helping African babies?"

Giving out free condoms is one of the easiest and cheapest ways to stop the spread of disease. Sickness cares very little for imaginary borders. Saving lives in another country also saves lives here. It's mutually beneficial. We probably even prevented some of those homeless vets from getting infected.

No thought is being put into this scorched earth shit show.

As always... get fucked, Elon.

[notayesmanseconomics]

Our energy policies in the UK and Europe are crippling our economies

Yesterday brought signs of economic weakness to the Euro area and the UK. That has been backed up this morning by a 5 point fall ( 101 to 96) in business confidence in France. There are obvious issues with higher interest-rates but to my mind a fair bit of the problems come from issues with energy. In the short-term there is the issue of price and as we look further ahead there is the issue of…

[cece693]

The One Kind Voice

pairing: bucky barnes x male reader tags: winter soldier time, kinda short but I wanted to test the waters, maybe I'll make it into a small series, open ending, perhaps reader is dead or escaped, no specific timeline, winter soldier finds a good thing amongst the bad

The metal restraints were always cold against his skin, but he barely felt them anymore. In the shadowed corridors of the Hydra facility, each clang of steel against steel was a drumbeat of his captivity. He didn't ask questions. He didn't show emotion. Not after they had scorched his mind and scorched it again, drilling into his consciousness until he could no longer remember his name.

But certain things—small shards of time—still lingered, sparkling in the darkness of the broken memories. Moments that Hydra’s reprogramming couldn't fully erase. And in all the jagged recollections the Winter Soldier carried, there was a face. A man with bright, gentle eyes.

He wasn’t like the other handlers. They supervised him with harsh commands and even harsher punishments for the slightest infractions. A slow aim here, a missed step there. The result was always pain. But not with him. The Soldier never learned his name—only recognized the warmth in his voice, the understanding in the slight upturn of his lips, and the soft twinge of regret behind every command he uttered.

Some nights, after a particularly brutal mission or a session in the chair that left his thoughts scrambled, the Soldier would lie on a cot in a dimly lit cell. The man would appear, quietly shutting the door behind him. He would kneel beside the Soldier, carefully checking for wounds. He never scolded. He simply whispered words that the Soldier couldn't always process, but they felt safe, like a lullaby in a storm.

“It's not your fault,” the handler would say, running a gentle hand across the Soldier’s forehead. “You'll be okay.”

At times, the Soldier didn't know if it was kindness or a Hydra tactic to trick him into obeying. But as the days bled into weeks, he found himself clinging to those brief, serene moments. Even Hydra's voice in his head, that droning command that threatened to break him again and again, could not drown out the memory of those gentle hands.

Then one day, the man disappeared.

The Soldier remembered walking into the training bay, battered and dazed from the previous night's reconditioning. He kept his eyes low, waiting for that small moment of kindness. It never came. Instead, stern-faced guards escorted him to the next mission briefing with mechanical indifference. Another day passed. Then another.

He had tried once—just once—to ask about the handler. His voice was clipped, each word tasting of tension. The guard merely grunted and shoved him forward. The question lingered in the Soldier’s own mind, haunting him as the reprogramming machine screeched and sparked. He felt the cold electricity surge, but beneath it, he clung to the thought: Where did he go?

Every mission, every bullet fired, every step he took along Hydra’s grim path was laced with that faint memory: a rare flicker of compassion in a world of torment. The more Hydra tried to strip him of his identity, the more that one face, that one gentle voice, stood out amid the chaos.

Sometimes, he wondered if that man had been a ghost or a figment of his fractured psyche. Perhaps Hydra had found him unnecessary. Or worse, they discovered he was too kind, an unacceptable weakness in a place that thrived on fear and pain. The Soldier replayed each conversation they’d shared, every time he had been consoled instead of condemned. He wondered if that handler had paid a price for showing him mercy.

Yet, in the darkest corners of the Soldier’s mind, that memory persisted, untarnished: someone had cared. Someone believed he was more than just a living weapon. And while the Winter Soldier could not fully comprehend his own pain or place in the world, that single memory was a lifeline.

Because maybe, just maybe, if there had been one soul in Hydra who treated him with humanity… there might be hope left for him yet. And so he held onto the recollection of the disappearing handler—wondering if he was safe, if he’d escaped to a better life. In the dreamlike haze of his brainwashed state, he allowed himself one fleeting comfort: maybe one day he would be free as well, free to find answers about the kind man who vanished, and the shards of memory he left behind.

[xichilie]

I LOVE YPUR BRANT FICS SO MUCH

Your the only one feeding us here 😭

Please keep that up

Please

Please

Please

Can we get reader getting kidnapped because they want Brants ransome

And he saves her

Then he gets all emotional

And kisses her accidentally he gets flustered

Please

Ofc I will continue feeding you, we need more brant ♡

Brant x (fem)reader

"The Fool’s Ransom"

The air was warm, the scent of wildflowers drifting lazily through the breeze as Y/N wandered through the outskirts of Fool’s Elysium. She had always found solace in moments like this—where the world was quiet, untouched by the chaos of the Troupe’s performances, the danger of their notoriety.

Her hands grazed over delicate petals, plucking a few blossoms with care. A vibrant mix of red and gold—Brant’s colors, she realized absently, lips twitching in amusement.

She could already imagine his reaction.

"For me? Ah, darling, you shouldn’t have! Though, of course, I deserve nothing less than the most beautiful bouquet, picked by the most enchanting hands—"

Y/N snorted at the thought, shaking her head. The man was ridiculous. Endearing, but ridiculous.

A rustling noise behind her snapped her out of her thoughts.

She barely had time to react before the world shifted.

Shadows moved. Figures emerged from behind the trees, stepping into the dappled light of the forest. Five, maybe six of them—dressed in rough leathers and battered armor, the kind worn by mercenaries and bounty hunters.

Y/N’s muscles tensed. Not good.

“Well, well,” one of the men drawled, his voice laced with amusement. “Looks like we caught ourselves a little bird.”

Y/N’s fingers curled around the stems of the flowers. She forced herself to stay calm. Think. Assess. Find an opening.

“Sorry,” she said lightly, “but I don’t recall asking to be caught.”

The leader chuckled, stepping closer. “You’re a smart one, aren’t you?” His eyes gleamed with something sharp, something calculating. “We know who you run with, girl.”

Y/N’s stomach twisted.

Brant.

This wasn’t about her. It was never about her.

“You’re making a mistake,” she said carefully, shifting her weight, searching for a possible escape.

“Don’t think so,” the man replied. “See, there’s a hefty price on Brant’s head, but the bastard’s tricky. Slippery. We figure—why chase a fox when you can catch the thing he won’t leave behind?”

Y/N felt cold steel against her wrist before she could react. A pair of rough hands wrenched her arms behind her back, securing them with thick rope.

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from cursing.

The leader grinned, watching her struggle. “That’s right. You’re coming with us, sweetheart. Let’s see how much the Fool is willing to pay.”

And just like that, the world blurred as they dragged her away.

The crowd roared, their cheers bouncing off the stone walls of Ragunna’s marketplace, filling the night with electricity. The Fool’s Troupe thrived on such energy, reveling in the spotlight as they danced, spun, and weaved their illusions.

Brant, of course, was at the center of it all.

With a flourish of his coat and a flick of his wrist, he sent a cascade of golden sparks into the air, a final dazzling spectacle that left the audience gasping in awe. The trick was nothing new—sleight of hand, a little bit of Tacet magic—but paired with the way he grinned, the way he owned the stage, it was enough to leave even the most skeptical onlookers enchanted.

The music reached its crescendo. The finale.

With a deep, exaggerated bow, Brant tipped his hat and let the applause wash over him.

Another successful night.

And yet—something felt wrong.

Even as he basked in the adoration, his sharp gaze swept over the crowd, searching.

And that’s when he saw him.

A man, standing near the back, half-shrouded in shadow.

He wasn’t clapping. Wasn’t smiling.

No, he was staring.

At him.

Brant had been in the game long enough to recognize that look.

A smirk that held no joy, only intent.

A predator sizing up its prey.

Brant’s usual bravado didn’t falter—he twirled his hat between his fingers, flashing the crowd one last charming wink before stepping off the stage. But inside, his mind was already racing.

He knew better than to ignore a threat.

And so, as the rest of the Troupe celebrated, Brant slipped through the back of the makeshift stage, where the night air was cool and the lanterns burned lower.

That’s when he saw it.

A single piece of parchment.

Tucked neatly into the folds of his coat.

Brant’s smirk wavered, just slightly.

He hadn’t felt anyone slip it in. Which meant whoever had done it was good.

Tina’s voice called from behind him. “Brant? What’s with that face?”

Brant ignored her for a moment, fingers tightening around the parchment. He unfolded it with a flick of his wrist, scanning the words scrawled in sharp, uneven ink.

"We have her.

Come alone.

You know why."

His heart stopped.

Her.

His grip tightened, crumpling the edges of the letter.

Tina must have seen the way his posture changed, the subtle shift from playful to deadly serious. She stepped closer, her usual smirk gone. “Brant. What is it?”

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

His mind was already spiraling.

Y/N.

She had nothing to do with this life. She wasn’t a Fool, wasn’t wrapped up in the chaos that followed him like a shadow.

He had kept it that way on purpose.

Because she was his only place of quiet. His only bit of peace in a world of games and deception.

And now, because of him, because of the bounty on his head—

They had her.

Brant inhaled slowly, forcing a smirk back onto his face before turning toward Tina. “Well, darling, looks like I’ve got a little errand to run.”

Tina didn’t buy it for a second. “Brant. What the hell is going on?”

He twirled the parchment between his fingers before tucking it into his coat, straightening as if the weight of the message hadn’t just settled into his bones. “Nothing a bit of Fool’s charm can’t fix.”

And then, before she could stop him, before she could see the flicker of raw, unfiltered fear in his eyes—

Brant was gone.

Y/N’s wrists ached from the rough rope binding her to the wooden support beam, the coarse fibers digging into her skin with every movement. The damp, musty air of the abandoned warehouse filled her lungs, thick with the scent of rotting wood and old metal. Lanterns flickered overhead, casting jagged shadows across the sneering faces of the men surrounding her.

She had been walking, minding her own business, when they struck—too many, too fast—grabbing her before she even had the chance to fight back. Now, she was here, held captive by a group of bounty hunters with the collective stench of cheap alcohol and poor decisions.

One of them, a broad-shouldered brute with greasy hair and a scar running down his cheek, leaned against a crate, flipping a dagger between his fingers. He smirked.

"Never thought the famous Brant would be stupid enough to get himself a little sweetheart," he drawled, his voice thick with amusement. "Guess the rumors were true. Fool’s got a soft spot."

Another man, lankier but with the same cruel glint in his eyes, chuckled. "Soft spot’s gonna cost him big. That bounty on his head could set us up for life."

Y/N stayed silent, glaring at them with steady defiance. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

That didn’t stop them from trying to get under her skin.

A third man, smaller but no less disgusting, crouched beside her, reaching out with dirty fingers to trace the curve of her cheek.

Y/N flinched at the unwanted touch, disgust coiling in her stomach like a snake.

“Shame, really,” he mused, tilting his head. “A pretty thing like you, wasting your time on a fool like him. What’s he got that we don’t?”

Y/N’s jaw clenched. Her first instinct was to spit in his face.

But instead, she did something worse.

She smiled.

A slow, knowing smile.

It unnerved him, just a little.

Enough that his fingers hesitated against her skin.

“Oh, you poor, stupid man,” she murmured, her voice dripping with mock pity. "You have no idea what you've done, do you?"

The man scowled. “The hell does that mean?”

Y/N only tilted her head, her expression almost amused now.

“Brant is a lot of things,” she said. “A scoundrel. A trickster. A Fool. But there’s one thing you should never forget—”

She leaned forward as much as the restraints allowed, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"A Fool always has the last laugh."

A moment of silence.

Then—CRASH.

Something shattered in the distance.

Y/N grinned.

He was here.

The bounty hunters barely had time to register the movement before a streak of violet light came swinging down from the upper beams like a phantom descending from the heavens.

Brant landed in a graceful arc of motion, boots hitting the wooden floor with a resounding thud. The dim lantern light caught the gleam of his sword as he twirled it effortlessly, the blade wreathed in flickering purple flames. His coat billowed dramatically behind him, his smirk infuriatingly confident despite the fact that he was surrounded.

“Gentlemen!” he called out, his voice carrying that same silken charisma that could charm an audience—or in this case, send shivers of fear down a man’s spine. “I do believe you have something that belongs to me.”

Y/N, still tied to the beam, rolled her eyes. “Took you long enough.”

Brant turned to her, flashing a cocky grin. “What can I say? Had to make an entrance.”

One of the bounty hunters finally snapped out of his shock. “It’s the Fool! Get him!”

Steel hissed from its sheath.

Brant moved before the first man could even blink.

With a single flick of his wrist, his sword slashed through the air, knocking the hunter’s weapon clean from his grip. The man barely had time to yelp before Brant twisted around him in a blur of motion, using his momentum to knock him out with a sharp, well-placed elbow.

The other hunters sprang into action, rushing him at once.

Brant’s grin widened. Perfect.

With a flourish of his blade, he leaped into the air, twisting above them in an almost impossible display of acrobatics. The purple flames around his rapier flared, trailing after him like a comet as he struck down three men in a series of fluid, calculated strikes.

Someone shouted, “Call for reinforcements!”

Brant clicked his tongue.

“Oh, no need for that,” he mused, suddenly vaulting upward. His boots landed lightly on one of the upper rafters, balancing as if he were performing on stage rather than engaged in battle. He tilted his head, finger tapping his chin.

“I was going to keep things simple, but since you’re all so eager…”

His hand lifted toward the ceiling.

The air rippled around him.

A deep rumble began to shake the very foundation of the warehouse.

The bounty hunters froze.

Then they saw it.

A giant, spectral anchor materialized above them, its heavy chains rattling as it hovered menacingly in midair. The sheer weight of it groaned against reality, as if waiting for its master’s command.

Brant snapped his fingers.

“Anchors away.”

The anchor plummeted.

The bounty hunters screamed.

The entire warehouse shook as the anchor slammed into the ground, sending a shockwave that knocked every single enemy off their feet. The force of the impact splintered the wooden floorboards, cracks spiderwebbing outward from where it landed.

Silence.

Then a low groan from one of the surviving men.

Brant dusted off his coat, grinning down at them. “I’d say that’s your cue to stay down.”

Y/N let out an exasperated sigh from where she was still tied. “Brant,”

Brant turned toward her, smirk still in place as he approached. “My dear, your savior arrived.”

And with a theatrical flourish, he cut her ropes.

The moment Y/N’s bindings hit the ground, she barely had time to react before Brant was pulling her close.

Not gently. Desperately.

His arms wrapped around her in a crushing embrace, one hand tangled in her hair, the other gripping her waist as if he were afraid she’d vanish if he let go. She could feel the erratic rise and fall of his chest, the way his entire body trembled—not from exhaustion, not from battle, but from something deeper.

Something raw.

Brant, her Brant, was shaking.

Y/N barely had time to process it before she heard it.

A sound so small, so unlike him, that it stopped her heart.

A shaky, broken laugh.

“sweetheart,” he whispered, voice hoarse and uneven. “You—you scared me.”

Y/N blinked. Brant, scared?

She’d seen him dance on the edge of blades without flinching. Laugh in the face of danger, throw himself into reckless stunts without so much as a second thought. He was the one who always smiled, who always made it look easy.

But now, here he was, burying his face into her shoulder, gripping her like a lifeline, voice breaking on the edges of words he couldn’t say.

Her stomach twisted.

She slowly brought her arms up, pressing her hands against his back.

“I’m okay,” she whispered. “Brant, I’m okay.”

His grip only tightened.

“I thought—” He let out another weak, breathless laugh, shaking his head. “I thought I’d lost you.”

Y/N swallowed hard.

Theatrics were second nature to Brant, but this wasn’t a performance.

This wasn’t a grand declaration, or a dramatic monologue. This was real.

And it terrified him.

She felt it in the way his fingers curled into her hair, the way he clung to her as though he couldn’t bear the thought of her slipping away.

Brant, the Fool of the Troupe, the man who laughed in the face of death, had been petrified at the thought of losing her.

Y/N let out a slow breath, running a hand through his wild hair, her fingers brushing against the beads and charms tangled in the mess of blue strands.

“Brant,” she murmured, voice soft, gentle. “Look at me.”

He hesitated.

Then, slowly, he lifted his head.

Y/N’s breath hitched.

His eyes—those brilliant, star-swept pinks—were red at the edges, shimmering with something dangerously close to tears.

Brant never cried. He’d joke, he’d tease, he’d brush off pain with a grin and a flourish, but now…

Now, he looked at her like a man who had almost lost everything.

Y/N cupped his face with both hands, brushing her thumbs along his cheekbones.

“I’m here,” she whispered. “I’m right here.”

Brant let out another weak, breathy laugh, leaning into her touch. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his lips parting as though he wanted to say something—but then, he just sighed.

A long, shuddering sigh, like he was exhaling all the fear that had built up inside him.

And then, when he finally opened his eyes again—he smiled.

Not his usual, cocky smirk.

Not the confident grin he used to mask uncertainty.

Something real.

Something softer.

His hands slid down to her waist, fingers still trembling slightly as he pulled her against him once more, this time resting his forehead against hers.

“Guess this means I have to keep you closer now, huh?” His voice was teasing, but there was no bravado this time. No false confidence.

Y/N huffed a quiet laugh, smoothing his hair back. “That might be hard, considering you already keep me close.”

Brant chuckled, a little steadier now. “Not close enough, apparently.”

Y/N smiled, running a hand down his arm before threading her fingers through his.

Brant stared down at their joined hands, his expression softening even further.

Then, suddenly—his entire body sagged.

“Ohhhh, stars, Y/N, I think I’m gonna faint.”

Y/N barely had time to react before he dramatically collapsed against her, arms still wrapped around her but now in a ridiculous, over-the-top swoon.

Y/N groaned. “Brant.”

“My heart, my poor, delicate heart!” he wailed, burying his face into her shoulder again, except this time she could feel him grinning.

“You idiot.” She smacked his arm lightly, but she couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up.

Brant peeked up at her, eyes twinkling. “Ah! There it is. The laugh of my beloved rescuer.” He sighed dreamily, pressing a dramatic hand to his forehead. “Truly, I am at your mercy, my darling.”

Y/N shook her head, exasperated. “Unbelievable.”

Brant grinned wider, then—without warning—pressed a quick, feather-light kiss to her lips.

Y/N froze.

Brant blinked, like even he hadn’t expected to do that. Then, ever so slowly, his face turned a bright, burning red.

“...Oh.”

Y/N stared at him, wide-eyed. “Did you just—”

“NOPE. DIDN’T HAPPEN.” Brant immediately turned on his heel, still holding her hand but now practically dragging her away from the scene.

Y/N let out a breathless laugh. “You are impossible.”

Brant’s ears were still red as he muttered, “And yet, you’re still here.”

Y/N squeezed his hand.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “I am.”

Brant glanced at her then, and for just a second—beneath all the theatrics, all the teasing—there was something else.

Something deep.

Something real.

And then, of course—

“WELL, I SUPPOSE I SHOULD WHISK YOU OFF INTO THE SUNSET NOW.” Brant threw an arm around her shoulders, twirling them both dramatically as they headed back toward town. “THAT’S WHAT HEROES DO, RIGHT?”

Y/N laughed, leaning into his side. “Sure, Brant. Whatever you say.”

And for the first time that night, Brant let out a breath that was truly, finally, free.

[narxcisse]

★ — The Line Between Us

Pairing: MH!Viktor x Jayce's partner!Reader

CW: infidelity, Viktor seems more obsessed than in love with reader, Jayce is kinda dumb

English isn't my native language

The cool, metallic tang of Zaun’s air clung to your lungs as you descended into the undercity. Every step felt heavier, your heart pounding with anticipation. You had told Jayce you were meeting a contact regarding a Hextech project, but here, beneath the gleaming spires of Piltover, that alibi felt hollow.

You weren’t here for progress. You weren’t here for Jayce.

You were here for him.

Viktor awaited you in his laboratory, surrounded by glowing machinery and the rhythmic hum of gears in motion. His mechanical frame caught the dim light, polished steel gleaming where flesh had long been forsaken. He looked up as you entered, his eyes locking onto yours, piercing through the guilt you carried.

“You’re late,” Viktor said, his voice calm but edged with an electric intensity that made your stomach twist. Today was one of those strange days where you saw him without his characteristic mask. (AN: Actually in my six years of playing LoL I never understood if it's his face or a mask, I would prefer it to be the second. 😭)

“I had to cover my tracks,” you murmured, stepping closer. “Jayce is… perceptive.”

“Jayce is a fool.” Viktor’s tone was sharp, almost dismissive. “He sees only what he wants to see. Progress is his blindfold.”

The words stung because they were true. Jayce, for all his brilliance, lived in a world of ideals. He didn’t notice how often you slipped away, didn’t question the late nights or the distant looks. He trusted you, and you were betraying him.

Viktor reached out with his augmented arm, the cold metal brushing against your skin. “And you? Do you share his blind optimism?”

You shook your head, your breath catching. “I’m not sure what I believe anymore.”

“Good,” Viktor said, stepping closer. “Doubt is the foundation of true innovation.”

Your lips met before you could think to stop yourself, the cold press of his against yours a stark contrast to the heat pooling in your chest. Viktor’s hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer. Every touch was calculated, precise, like he was dissecting you in the same way he dismantled machines. Yet there was an undeniable hunger, an almost desperate need in the way he held you.

“Do you think he suspects?” Viktor asked against your lips, his voice a mix of curiosity and possessiveness.

You hesitated. “I don’t know. But if he finds out…”

Viktor pulled back slightly, his eyes narrowing. “If he finds out, he will learn that perfection is inevitable—no matter the cost. You are no longer his. You are mine.”

The possessive claim sent a shiver down your spine. Was it love, or was it obsession? Did it matter?

“I don’t belong to anyone,” you whispered, though your words lacked conviction.

Viktor chuckled darkly. “Don’t you? You return to him out of guilt, but you come to me out of desire. Tell me, which is stronger?"

Your silence answered him.

---

The next morning, you stood beside Jayce in Piltover’s gleaming council chamber, his arm draped around your shoulders. He spoke animatedly about Hextech’s future, about the bright path forward. You smiled and nodded at the right moments, but your mind was miles away—in a shadowed lab in Zaun, where progress came at a price you weren’t sure you were willing to pay.

Jayce glanced at you, his warm smile full of trust. “You’ve been quiet. Everything okay?”

You forced a smile. “Just tired.”

He kissed your temple, his affection like a dagger in your heart. You wondered how much longer you could keep this up, how much longer you could walk the line between light and shadow.

But as Viktor had told you once, progress was inevitable. And so was the truth.

[chemanalystdata]

Electrical Steel Prices Trend | Pricing | News | Database | Chart

North America

In Q3 2024, Electrical Steel prices in North America experienced a modest rise, with the USA witnessing the most significant changes. This increase was driven by several factors. Stable supply levels, coupled with rising demand from the automotive and renewable energy sectors, played a major role in pushing prices higher.

Additionally, the weakening US dollar and anticipated interest rate cuts by the Federal Reserve enhanced the appeal of dollar-priced steel to buyers, further boosting demand. The gradual recovery in the automotive sector and a rise in orders for green energy projects also contributed to the price uptick. Specifically, the USA saw a consistent upward trend in Electrical Steel prices throughout the quarter, reflecting positive market sentiment.

Compared to the same quarter last year, the growth in prices underscored an upward trajectory, with notable increases between the first and second halves of the quarter. Despite relatively stable prices from the previous quarter, the quarter-ending price of USD 5830/MT for Electrical Steel (M15-C5) Coil DEL Tijuana in the USA signals a strong and steadily increasing pricing environment.

Get Real time Prices for Electrical Steel: https://www.chemanalyst.com/Pricing-data/electrical-steel-1357

Asia-Pacific

In Q3 2024, Electrical Steel prices in the Asia-Pacific (APAC) region remained stable, influenced by a balanced supply-demand dynamic, market sentiment, and global economic conditions. Japan, which experienced the most notable price changes in the region, saw a quarterly decrease compared to the same period last year, reflecting ongoing challenges in the steel industry.

Quarter-on-quarter analysis highlighted the market's stability and resilience amidst external pressures. Notably, the price comparison between the first and second halves of the quarter remained consistent, indicating a steady pricing trend. Additionally, Tokyo Steel, Japan's largest Electric Arc Furnace (EAF) steel producer, announced reductions in scrap purchase prices to adapt to market changes and maintain competitiveness. While this reduction could lower production costs for companies relying on Tokyo Steel, it may also influence ferrous product pricing globally.

The quarter-ending price of USD 1430/MT for Electrical Steel (50 WW 800) Coil Ex Osaka in Japan underscores the overall stable pricing environment. Despite global steel market fluctuations, Japan's Electrical Steel sector demonstrated resilience, maintaining stability and adaptability in the face of market dynamics.

Europe

In Q3 2024, Electrical Steel prices in Europe exhibited stable trends, shaped by various market influences. A challenging environment, including a decline in the construction sector and ongoing issues in the automotive industry, led to reduced buying activity.

Analysts described the automotive market as poor and the construction market as significantly weakened. Despite subdued demand, premiums in the construction sector remained flat due to tight supply conditions. Germany, in particular, managed to sustain stability in its domestic market.

The consistency in prices between the first and second halves of the quarter indicated a period of stabilization. The quarter-ending price for Electrical Steel (50 WW 800) Coil FD-Ruhr in Germany stood at USD 1850/MT, reflecting the stable sentiment in the market. Despite uncertainties, subdued demand, and fluctuating market conditions, Germany’s resilience contributed to maintaining a steady pricing environment amidst a complex economic landscape.

Contact Us:

ChemAnalyst

GmbH - S-01, 2.floor, Subbelrather Straße,

15a Cologne, 50823, Germany

Call: +49-221-6505-8833

Email: sales@chemanalyst.com

Website: https://www.chemanalyst.com

[emeraldelixirs]

Bloodsport // prologue

bsf! m. riddle x fem!sallow!reader, stepbrother! t. nott x fem!sallow!reader

Bound by Blood, Betrayed by Fate. When you’re dragged to Malfoy Manor under orders from Voldemort himself, you learn the price of your mother’s mistakes: an Unbreakable Vow, tethering your life to the deranged Bellatrix Lestrange. Forced to navigate a web of dark magic, family debts, and impossible expectations, you must tread carefully in a house brimming with enemies—and a few familiar faces. As tensions rise and the lines between loyalty and survival blur, one question remains: will you find a way to break free, or will you lose yourself to the darkness?

content warnings: 18+ dark themes, aged up characters (by a year), mention of y/n, mentions of anxiety and isolation, death, crossover references with HP legacy, canon HP themes involving death eaters, blood status, purity, house prejudice, and underage coercion. let me know what if there’s anything missing!

Word count: 1.5k

A/n: I’ve been keeping this fic held near and dear to my chest for a while, but have been too nervous to post it and wanting it to be perfect aligning the canon, noncanon, potential AUs, etc. Also I’m just a girl with a full time job and life. 🥲 But as I keep adding on to this story, I think, at least, hope others will enjoy it as much as I’ve been while writing. Feedback, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated 🫶🏻

[playlist: no time to die—Billie eillish ]

<< next part >>

The click of your heels against the cold, tiled floor echoed hauntingly through the desolate halls of Malfoy Manor, a sound that mingled with the steady pressure of Fenrir Greyback’s wand digging into the small of your back. Each step felt like an eternity, your pulse hammering in your ears as Narcissa Malfoy led you down the dimly lit corridor. Her movements were calm and composed, her shoulders drawn back with an elegance you envied in that moment. She, at least, did not have a predator breathing down her neck.

“Keep moving, girl,” Fenrir growled from behind you, his voice low and guttural, sending shivers down your spine. “Mistress doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

“That’s enough, Fenrir,” Narcissa snapped, her tone cutting through the air like a blade.

Her icy demeanor, usually so measured, betrayed her frustration. You could sense it in the stiff set of her shoulders and the clipped tone of her voice. Narcissa Malfoy hated what her home had become—a fortress for Death Eaters, a cold and dark parody of the life she once knew. But most of all, she hated that the lives of children, her son and his friends included, were being consumed by the dark tide that had overtaken their world.

When Narcissa came to a halt before the double doors of the dining room, her fingers meticulously adjusted the buttons of her blouse, her sharp gaze fixed on the brass knobs. “Leave us, Greyback,” she commanded, her voice devoid of emotion but brooking no argument.

“Mistress said—”

“Do I need to remind you,” she interrupted, turning on her heel with a venomous glare, “that your mistress is *my* sister? This is still my home, and I will not tolerate being undermined in it. Now. Leave.”

Her warning crackled like electricity in the air, but Fenrir relented with a sneer, retreating down the hall. Narcissa exhaled slowly before turning her attention to you. Her cold, pale fingers reached out to smooth your hair and adjust the sleeves of your dress, though you’d ironed them to perfection just that morning. Her dull gray eyes darted behind you, ensuring the hall was empty, before she spoke in a voice barely above a whisper.

“Listen to me, child,” she said, her hand cupping your cheek with an unexpected gentleness that contradicted the steel in her tone. “You go in there with your head held high. Shoulders back. Do not let her see your fear. She will exploit it.”

The lump in your throat grew unbearable, but you managed a trembling nod. Narcissa’s hand tightened on your chin, forcing your watery gaze to meet her own lifeless one.

“Do you understand?”

“I understand,” you murmured, the words scraping against the knot in your throat.

Her gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, and then, with a curt nod of approval, she turned to knock on the doors.

The dining room was frigid, both in temperature and atmosphere. Bellatrix Lestrange lounged at the head of the table like a queen upon her throne, her wild, matted hair framing her pale, deranged face. Alecto Carrow stood beside her, her towering, stocky figure and lifeless gaze only adding to the oppressive weight that filled the room.

Bellatrix’s lips curled into a sinister grin as her dark eyes landed on you.

“This is the girl?” she drawled, rising with an unsettling excitement.

“She will be in her sixth year, like Draco,” Narcissa said coolly, her tone devoid of the pride she’d once reserved for introductions.

Bellatrix let out a high-pitched laugh, tilting her head back as though the very idea of you amused her. “Sixth year! A mere child!”

“She turned 17 in the spring,” the younger sister noted, clearing her throat. She was aware of what Bellatrix wanted, and the idea of a child doing her sister’s bidding stirred the already restless unease in her body.

Your stomach churned as she circled around you, her wand tracing invisible lines along your jaw and down the column of your neck. Her closeness made your skin crawl, but you stood your ground, your face a mask of carefully constructed neutrality. You couldn’t afford to falter now—not in front of her.

“You look so much like your mother,” Bellatrix said, her voice dripping with mockery. “The Veela blood is strong in your family. A pity it didn’t make her smart.”

Your nails dug into your palms as you resisted the urge to react, hearing Narcissa’s earlier warning echo in your mind. Bellatrix’s gaze bored into yours, relishing in delight at your discomfort.

“She’s one of the top in her class, and heavily involved in the school’s extracurriculars.” Narcissa interjected, her voice brittle, though she stood rigid behind you. “I believe she will do well with the tasks you assign her.”

Bellatrix’s twisted smile widened, and she gestured for Alecto to step forward. The red-haired woman stalked closer, her soulless eyes narrowing as she assessed you like one might a piece of meat.

“Do you know why you’re here, Y/n Sallow?” Alecto asked.

“I’m here to finish the business my mother couldn’t,” you recited in monotone, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging within you.

“Good,” Alecto purred, her lips curling into a cruel smirk. “And do you know what happens if you fail?”

“I will be executed,” you replied, the words chilling you even as they left your lips.

Alecto chuckled darkly, seemingly satisfied with your response. Bellatrix clapped her hands together, her giddy laugh echoing off the cold stone walls.

“You will not bear the Dark Mark,” Bellatrix said suddenly, her voice gleeful. “No, the Dark Lord has other plans for you. You will be bound to me instead—by an Unbreakable Vow.”

The words struck you like a physical blow. Your mask faltered as you turned to Narcissa, whose own composure cracked for just a moment. This was not discussed–Dark Mark or Unbreakable Vow–you were supposed to be unscathed by any affiliations Theodore Nott Sr, your step father, told you.

“Bella, this wasn’t—”

“Dark Lord’s orders,” Bellatrix snapped, her wand digging into your chin as she forced your gaze back to her. “Take my arm, child.”

I hate you.

With trembling fingers, you obeyed, grasping her sickly pale forearm as she held it out. Alecto began the incantation, her voice cold and mechanical, each word sealing your fate.

I hate you.

The vow burned as it took hold, a searing pain lancing through your arm and up into your chest.

I hate you.

The three words chanted through your brain as the woman laughed maniacally listening to Alecto talk.

In the moment, resentment tugged through you at your mother for leaving you alone in this world to take the weight of her debts. Alecto’s words becoming muffled to a deafening screech of the thoughts that thrummed in your head. The brand of the vow making itself known, threading through the fibers of your being.

And when it was over, you staggered back, Narcissa catching you before you could fall. Bellatrix’s laughter rang in your ears as she clapped her hands again.

“I will call on you soon to prepare for your new role,” she said, dismissing you with a wave of her hand. “There are other matters to take care of.”

Narcissa dragged you from the room, her grip ironclad. The tears you had been holding back slipped down your cheeks as the weight of what had just transpired settled over you. The woman beside you offering icy coles trying to coax the tears to stop.

“Y/N?”

The sound of your name stopped you in your tracks. You turned to see Theo, Draco, Enzo, and Mattheo walking toward the dining room. Theo and Draco acknowledged you with stoic nods, while Enzo’s concerned gaze lingered. Mattheo, however, didn’t even spare you a glance.

Mattheo had always been the one to meet your gaze when things got bad. A silent promise shared between the two of you—‘I’ve got you.’ But now, there was nothing. No glance. No acknowledgment. As if the weight of your fate was too much for even him to bear.

The sight of him ignoring you sent a fresh wave of anguish crashing over you. You tore your gaze away, as Narcissa pull you further down the hall, sparing one more glance back at them. Enzo was still turned towards you as Theo tugged his arm to pull him away. You could feel your chest be torn apart as you were carried further down the halls past death eaters gathering.

There had to be a way out of this. There had to be.

A/n: eeeeee it’s out to the world, chapter one will be out soon to not keep you waiting. If you want to be added to the taglist let me know or have suggestions of making it efficient pls pls pls

[robertreich]

From Robber Barons to Bezos: Is History Repeating Itself?

Ultra-wealthy elites…Political corruption…Vast inequality…

These problems aren’t new — in the late 1800s they dominated the country during America’s first Gilded Age.

We overcame these abuses back then, and we can do it again.

Mark Twain coined the moniker “The Gilded Age” in his 1873 novel to describe the era in American history characterized by corruption and inequality that was masked by a thin layer of prosperity for a select few.

The end of the 19th century and start of the 20th marked a time of great invention — bustling railroads, telephones, motion pictures, electricity, automobiles — which changed American life forever.

But it was also an era of giant monopolies — oil, railroad, steel, finance — run by a small group of men who had grown rich beyond anything America had ever seen.

They were known as “robber barons” because they ran competitors out of business, exploited workers, charged customers exorbitant prices, and lived like royalty as a result.

Money consumed politics. Robber barons and their lackeys donated bundles of cash to any lawmaker willing to do bidding on their behalf. And when lobbying wasn’t enough, the powerful turned to bribery — resulting in some of the most infamous political scandals in American history.

The gap between the rich and poor in America reached astronomical levels. Large numbers of Americans lived in squalor.

Anti-immigrant sentiment raged, leading to the enactment of racist laws to restrict immigration. And voter suppression, largely aimed at Black men who had recently won the right to vote, was rampant.

The era was also marked by dangerous working conditions. Children often as young as 10, but sometimes younger, worked brutal hours in sweatshops. Workers trying to organize labor unions were attacked and killed.

It seemed as if American capitalism was out of control, and American democracy couldn’t do anything about it because it was bought and paid for by the rich.

But Americans were fed up, and they demanded reform. Many took to the streets in protest.

Investigative journalists, often called “muckrakers” then, helped amplify their cries by exposing what was occurring throughout the country.

And a new generation of political leaders rose to end the abuses.

Politicians like Teddy Roosevelt, who warned that, “a small class of enormously wealthy and economically powerful men, whose chief object is to hold and increase their power,” could destroy American democracy.

After becoming president in 1901, Roosevelt used the Sherman Antitrust Act to break up dozens of powerful corporations, including the giant Northern Securities Company which had come to dominate railroad transportation through a series of mergers.

Seeking to limit the vast fortunes that were creating a new American aristocracy, Congress enacted a progressive income tax through the 16th Amendment, as well as two wealth taxes.

The first wealth tax, in 1916, was the estate tax — a tax on the wealth someone accumulated during their lifetime, paid by the heirs who inherited it. The second tax on wealth, enacted in 1922, was a capital gains tax — a tax on the increased value of assets, paid when those assets were sold.

The reformers of the Gilded Age also stopped corporations from directly giving money to politicians or political candidates.

And then Teddy Roosevelt’s fifth cousin — you may have heard of him — continued the work through his New Deal programs — creating Social Security, unemployment insurance, a 40-hour workweek, and requiring that employers bargain in good faith with labor unions.

But following the death of FDR and the end of World War II, when America was building the largest middle class the world had ever seen — we seemed to forget about the abuses of the Gilded Age.

Now, more than a century later, America has entered a second Gilded Age.

It is also a time of extraordinary invention.

And a time when monopolies are taking over vast swathes of the economy, so we must renew antitrust enforcement to bust up powerful companies.

Now, another generation of robber barons is accumulating unprecedented money and power. So once again, we must tax these exorbitant fortunes.  

Wealthy individuals and big corporations are once again paying off lawmakers, sending them billions to conduct their political campaigns, even giving luxurious gifts to Supreme Court justices. So we need to protect our democracy from Big Money, just as we did before.

Voter suppression runs rampant in the states as during the first Gilded Age, making it harder for people of color to participate in what’s left of our democracy. So it’s once again critical to defend and expand voting rights.

Working people are once again being exploited and abused, child labor is returning, unions are busted, the poor are again living in unhealthy conditions, homelessness is on the rise, and the gap between the ultra-rich and everyone else is nearly as large as in the first Gilded Age. So once again we need to protect the rights of workers to organize, invest in social safety nets, and revive guardrails to protect against the abuses of great wealth and power.

The question now is the same as it was at the start of the 20th century: Will we fight for an economy and a democracy that works for all rather than the few?

We’ve done it before. We can — and must — do it again.

[whencyclopedia]

The British Industrial Revolution transformed life at work and at home for practically everyone. Noise, pollution, social upheaval, and repetitive jobs were the price to pay for labour-saving machines, cheap and comfortable transportation, more affordable consumer goods, better lighting and heating, and faster ways of communication. Any shortlist of inventions is bound to be far from complete, but the following have been chosen not only for what they could do but also for how they permitted other inventions to become possible and how they transformed working life and everyday living for millions of people. The period under consideration is also important and here is taken as 1750 to 1860. With these criteria in mind, the top 10 inventions of the Industrial Revolution were: The Watt Steam Engine (1778) The Power Loom (1785) The Cotton Gin (1794) Gas Street Lighting (1807) The Electromagnet (1825) The First Photograph (c. 1826) Stephenson's Rocket (1829) The Electrical Telegraph (1837) The Steam Hammer (1839) Mass Steel Production (1856)

[batboyblog]

Things Biden and the Democrats did, this week #12

March 29-April 5 2024

President Biden united with Senator Bernie Sanders at the White House to review Democratic efforts to bring down drug prices. President Biden touted his Administration’s capping the price of insulin for seniors at $35 a month and capping the price of  prescription drugs for seniors at $2,000 a year. Biden hopes to expand both to all Americans through legislation next year with a Democratic congress. The President also praised Senator Sanders' efforts as chair of the Senate Health Committee which has lead to major drug manufacturers capping the price of inhalers at $35 a month. “Bernie, you and I have been fighting this for 25 years,” Biden said “Finally, finally we beat Big Pharma. Finally.”

The White House gave an update on its actions around the Francis Scott Key Bridge disaster. The federal government working with state and local governments hope to have enough of the remains of the bridge cleared to partially reopen the Port of Baltimore by the end of the month and have the port working normally by May. The Administration has already released $60 million in emergency money toward rebuilding and promises the federal government will cover the cost. The Department of Labor has released $3.5 million for Dislocated Worker Grants and plans up to $25 million to cover lost wages. The Small Business Administration is offering $2 million in emergency loans to affected small businesses. The Administration is working with business and labor unions to keep workers at work and cover lost wages.

Vice-President Harris and EPA Administrator Michael Regan announced $20 billion to help finance tens of thousands of climate and clean energy projects across the country. The kinds of projects that will be financed through this project include distributed clean power generation and storage, net-zero retrofits of homes and small businesses, and zero-emission transportation. 70% of the funds, $14 billion, will be invested in low-income and disadvantaged communities. The project is part of a public private partnership so for every 1 dollar of federal money, private companies have promised 7 dollars of investment, bring the total to $150 billion for ongoing financing of climate and clean energy projects for years to come.

The Department of Transportation announced $20.5 billion in investments in public transportation. This represents the largest single investment in public transit by the federal government in history. The money will go to improving and expanding subways, light rail, buses, and ferry systems across America. The DoT hopes to use the funds to in particular expand and improve options for public transport for people with disabilities and seniors.

The Departments of Energy and The Treasury announced $4 billion in tax credits for businesses investing in clean energy, critical materials recycling, and Industrial decarbonization. The credits till go toward 100 projects across 35 states. 67% of the credits ($2.7 billion) will go to clean energy, wind, solar, nuclear, clean hydrogen, as well as updates to grids, better batter storage, and investments in electric vehicles. 20% ($800 million) will go to to recycling things like lithium-ion batteries, and 13% ($500 million) to decarbonization in industries like automotive manufacturing, and iron and steel.

The Department of Agriculture announced $1.5 Billion in investments in climate-smart agriculture. USDA plans to support over 180,000 farms representing 225 million acres in the next 5 years move toward more climate friendly agriculture. 40% of the project is reserved for disadvantaged communities, in line with the Biden Administrations standard for climate investment. $100 million has been reserved for projects in Tribal Communities.

The Department of the Interior approved the New England Wind offshore wind project. To be located off Martha’s Vineyard the New England project represents the 8th such off shore wind project approved by the Biden administration. Taken together these projects will generate 10 gigawatts of totally clean energy that can power 4 million homes. The Administration's climate goals call for 30 gigawatts of off shore wind power by 2030. The New England Wind project itself is expected to generate 2,600 megawatts of electricity, enough to power more than 900,000 homes in the New England area.

The Department of the Interior announced $320 Million for tribal water infrastructure. Interior also announced $244 million to deal with legacy pollution from mining in the State of Pennsylvania, as well as $25 million to protect wetlands in Arizona and $19 million to put solar panels over irrigation canals in California, Oregon and Utah. While the Department of Energy announced $27 million for 40 projects by state, local and tribal governments to combat climate change

[allthecanadianpolitics]

https://www.ctvnews.ca/toronto/politics/queens-park/article/we-dont-need-your-energy-trump-says-in-response-to-ontarios-electricity-surcharge/

Not allowd we didn’t elect that fuck face! We are not the ten extra states of America! Not allowed? That fuckface doesn’t rule over us

[sirianasims]

Chapter 44.1

Girls on Millionaires

“Samara, this is hopeless.”

“It’s been five minutes, Julia, we’ve barely started!”

“But how am I supposed to find anything in here? They should have thrift shops online, I just want to grab what I need and get on with my life.”

Samara shakes her head. “You’re thinking about it all wrong, this is not shopping. Thrifting is more like a treasure hunt, you never know what you’re going to find.”

She moves between the chaotic piles with the practiced air of someone who’s done this a thousand times before. Her hands are constantly busy, picking up items, examining them, and occasionally letting out a small laugh or shaking her head as she puts them back.

I trail behind her, aimlessly running my hands over stacks of old sweaters and linens, feeling out of place. The whole rebrand is starting to stress me out. My money is dwindling faster than I expected, and I only have so long to get the channel up and running again before I’ll be forced to make that dreaded phone call and ask my parents for help. It would feel like admitting defeat.

My spare room looks empty and forlorn without my sewing machine and fabrics, and I was hoping to find something that would help me get the new aesthetic right without breaking the bank, even if I don’t know exactly what I’m looking for.

Instead, I feel like I’m drowning in a sea of other people’s memories, and none of them fit the person I’m trying to become.

I’m about to give up when Samara calls out, a triumphant grin spreading across her face.

“Julia, come check this out.”

She waves me over to a large, white mirror, tucked away in a corner by some broken chairs and unused exercise equipment.

I walk over to it and run my fingers along the curved frame. It’s smooth, no dents or scratches. There’s even a useful shelf on the bottom, and I can already picture it in my new recording setup, framing the scene just right.

“This is perfect, Samara! There’s no price tag on it, do you think they’ll sell it?” I gesture at the girl at the register. She hasn’t looked up from her phone since we got here.

“They’d sell the roof if it didn’t keep the rain out, let’s go make a deal.”

The Rooftop

The music pulses through my body, a steady beat that seems to resonate in my bones and push away any lingering traces of worry. The Rooftop is packed tonight, but I don’t mind the crowd. The energy is electric, the kind that makes you feel alive, feel like anything is possible.

I’m tipsy – more than tipsy, actually – and it feels good. Samara and I managed to get my new mirror home safely, and for the rest of tonight, all thoughts about the rebrand and the money situation are far away, drowned out by the bass and the chemical smell from the smoke machines.

I throw my hands up, twirling in place as the DJ transitions into a song with a heavier beat. The floor beneath my feet feels like it’s vibrating, and I can’t stop smiling, can’t stop moving. I’m probably grinning like an idiot but I don’t even care. For the first time in weeks, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be, who I’m supposed to be.

Samara and Miranda are dancing next to me, and I close my eyes, letting the rhythm take over. All the tension I’ve carried melts away. I know I’ll have to face reality again tomorrow, finish setting up my recording equipment and sort out a new posting schedule, but tomorrow is a million miles away.

Miranda leans in close, trying to get my attention. “Let’s grab a table,” she says, and I feel like I can see the vibration of her words through the air more than I hear them. “I need a break.”

“Yeah, good idea, my feet are killing me.”

I slide onto the seat, relieved to get off the unforgiving steel floor, as Miranda puts a drink in front of me. The glass is cool in my hand, condensation dripping down my fingers as I take a sip. The strong taste of alcohol is barely masked by the fruits and sugar. Miranda always gets the good stuff, all the bartenders know she tips well.

I gently peel off my shoes and rest my bare feet on the cold, smooth metal bars of the stool.

“Miranda, seriously, how do you handle wearing heels every single day? I’m so sore.”

Miranda grins.

“You get used to it after a while, really. It’s all about practice and a little bit of masochism,” she says with a laugh. “And then there’s the stubbornness, I didn’t spend all that money on shoes just to keep them on a shelf – speaking of, since when can you afford Diego Lobos?”

I glance down at my shoes. “They were a gift from Paul, for New Year’s Eve. I just haven’t worn them since we broke up. He joked that they were mostly a gift for himself, actually. So he wouldn’t have to bend down as far to kiss me.”

And because he liked it when I wore them to bed. The memory stings a little, but it’s not as bad as it used to be, the wound of the heartbreak has finally scabbed over and the pain is less raw each time I think of him.

Samara giggles tipsily. “I mean, they look nicer than using a stepladder, that’s for sure.”

“Maybe that’s why he dumped me, I was bad for his back. I should find a shorter boyfriend next time.”

“Yeah? How tall is Marten?”

“That’s not – we’re not dating, Miranda!”

Miranda clicks her tongue. “Girl, I hate to break it to you, but he did take you on a date.”

“It wasn’t a date, we just hung out! We got home, played games, ordered takeout. He slept on the couch, and then he took the train back to campus. He didn’t try to flirt or hit on me in any way.”

“Sounds fake,” Samara says. “I still think he’s up to something.”

“Or maybe he’s just not into me, it’s not a crime. He can have friends and not want to date them, you know.”

Thankfully, they drop the subject and move on to something else. I don’t like admitting it, but Marten’s lack of interest bothers me. It’s not even that I want him, but I’m used to most guys wanting me, and my ego is frankly a little bruised. Marten is always so sweet and attentive, but that’s it.

I can’t help but find it strange that he spends so much time with me if he doesn’t like me like that. Am I really just so arrogant that I can’t imagine a guy who doesn’t want me? Or maybe I’m just obsessing over it because Paul didn’t want me either. At least not enough to give me more time. I push away the thought violently.

As I take another sip of my drink, my eyes wander towards the bar. The Rooftop’s head bartender, Shane, is quite pretty, all perfect hair and strong jawline – and not that tall. I catch myself staring a little too long, and then I remember that he asked Miranda about me. A flutter stirs in my stomach.

The truth is that I miss being wanted, being touched. I miss kissing and cuddling and holding hands, but most of all I miss sex, the sweaty, dirty, crazy kind that leaves you breathless on crumpled sheets at sunrise.

“Julia, are you even listening?”

“I think we lost her, Mir, she’s busy eye-fucking the bartender.”

“Good to know she’s healed enough to look at other men at last.”

I feel my cheeks get hot. “Sorry, I was just thinking, uh, isn’t that the bartender who asked about me?” I try to sound casual but Miranda isn’t fooled for a second.

She chuckles knowingly. “Oh, yeah, that’s him. Just a heads up, though, Shane is a total fuckboy, he doesn’t do relationships.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Who said anything about relationships?”

Miranda shrugs, her eyes still sparkling with amusement. “As long as you know what you’re getting into, babe. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you, you don’t need more heartbreak.”

“Come on, Julia, you can do so much better. Just wait, before you know it, some prince is going to come riding in on a white horse and sweep you away.”

“Samara, I’d be happy with a duke on a rusty bike at this point. A girl has needs, you know – and my vibrator doesn’t cuddle.”

We laugh it off, but I have to admit that I feel extremely tempted by the thought of seeing where this might go.

Images flash through my mind of maybe, possibly, staying a little after closing time and getting to know Shane the bartender better. Maybe he could help me remember that Paul isn’t the last man on earth, and that even if Marten doesn’t want me either, someone else will.

My pocket vibrates, tearing me away from my fantasy. I look at my phone, slightly flustered. As if summoned by my thoughts, it’s Marten, asking if we’re going to play tonight. I fire back a quick text about being out with the girls and he answers immediately.

“No worries! Have fun and make good choices, okay?”

Good choices? What is he, my dad?

Still, his words stick with me, making me feel a little guilty for some reason.

I glance back at Shane, who’s now mixing a drink with the kind of smooth confidence that makes it clear that he knows exactly how hot he is. If he’s as bad as his reputation, he probably wouldn’t mind being someone’s rebound, but would I regret it?

I followed Paul back to his hotel even though I barely knew him. Am I just the kind of girl who hooks up with any hot guy on a whim? Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but Marten has a talent for making me second-guess myself.

If I’m being brutally honest, as hot as it sounds, getting railed on a bar after closing would probably not count as a good choice in anyone’s book.

But still…

A girl can dream.

navigation / previous / next

[sins-of-the-father-au-official]

Second Snippet. ( Not Quite Part Two Electric Booglo)

Hello Hello, I'm back with that second Snippet. I couldn't help but share I personally find this one way too adorable yet slightly heartbreaking. As I said, it's the best of both worlds. Two feels the price of one, some might say. Context: This is a later part of little Damian sneaking into 17-year-old Jason's room while he is trying to assemble the prototype of the Red Hood Helmet. However, he caught on to who Damian's father might be ( Not that it comes up in this part much)

Something between a deep-seated distrust belonging to an older mind and the softness of child-like intrigue pushed out the amusement. Fingers slowly uncoiled, although a palpable hesitance was laced within. A little sigh seemed to lighten the already light load as the button fell into his palm.   

" Thank you Spar-" 

 "Damian."

 A slight chuckle left Jason's mouth as he placed the button back into its well-earned and rightful place. It was a strange sound to his ears, something that belonged on the fringe of dreams meant to slip away from his fingers. Still, there had been soothing about it as his hands gripped the sides of the helmet, freeing it from its resting place. Uneven curves and scratches glinted in the light as he brought it close. There was a gentleness in him, placing the helmet on that crown of waves. Even as it slipped past his chin and shoulders like a tricker-or-treater being consumed by his play-cowl. 

 " Be careful. It might be a bit finicky but the nice thing is when you're under it you can be anyone," Jason paused as if waiting for a muffled response while he balanced it on those small shoulders." You're safe because they have to get through the metal first. As long as I'm in it, no one can hurt me again and maybe once you get older, I'll make you one. "  

 If he was still here by then, that was...

 There were a few echoing giggles compressed by the steel. In a way, it looked as if the blank features were mocking him. However, anger refused to rise within him nor allowed whispered taunts to fill his mind. Rather, something softer seemed to creep in like a long-held breath being released. An exhale laced with memories of stolen moments, ones played out to distract wide, fearful eyes. For a moment, he had one foot in a pocket of calm, amidst crime-riddled street and the tentative peace of the present. 

" I will be big, strong, no need. Secrets I need. "

( Divider credit goes to : @hyuneskkami)