#pig iron for casting

[neometaliks]

Technological Advancements In Pig Iron Production

Here are the latest technological advancements in pig iron production. To know more read on now. Find out about the pig iron production cost, pig iron price and get the best pig iron for casting.

[arcsin27]

This is all vital info when you have a character that can only be killed by iron tbh I’ve tried researching the difference between cast iron steel and iron so many times

So we have pure iron, and we add carbon and we call it steel. Ok cool, so then we also have cast iron, which is where you take iron and add more carbon. Yeah okay. And then we get pig iron, which is where you take iron and add even more carbon to it. So with steels we get high carbon steel and low carbon steel. Low carbon steel has more carbon than iron but less than iron. High carbon steel has less carbon than iron but much more than iron.

[schwazombie]

My cast iron is such a supermodel look at her

Five generations old got her skincare routine down a hot bath and exfoliate (hot water and gentle scrub brush) after every use followed by patting dry and liberal application of a natural moisturizer (pig fat) that she lets soak in warm. What a queen. I hope I look that good in five generations

[theoutcastrogue]

Cartoon depictions of the homeless increasingly reflect the hostility of today’s political leaders toward people on the streets. We’ve gone from images of charming hobos with bindles to zombies taking over cities. If you consume any news at all, you’ve probably noticed that the United States is pathologically cruel to its homeless citizens. This May, the brutal killing of Jordan Neely—who was strangled to death, at the age of 30, simply because he was unhoused and shouting on the Manhattan subway—captured the national spotlight, but it was just one of many such cases of unprovoked violence. In January, two cops reportedly kidnapped a homeless man in Hialeah, Florida, drove him to an “isolated and dark location,” and beat him unconscious. That same month, art dealer Shannon Collier Gwin faced battery charges after he sprayed a homeless woman with a hose outside his San Francisco gallery, barking “Move! Move!” at her. (Predictably, Gwin got a lenient plea deal of just 35 hours of community service.) Elsewhere in the city, homeless San Franciscans have been attacked with chemical bear spray on at least eight occasions. Other assaults have been more impersonal but no less vicious. On July 14, the city of Houston abruptly closed its only public cooling center in the downtown area, potentially condemning anyone without shelter to suffer heatstroke in 90-degree weather. Among the property-owning class, the phenomenon of hostile architecture—sidewalks with spikes that stab anyone who tries to sleep, benches with iron bars, and the like—has become de rigueur. The widespread callousness and lack of compassion are both infuriating and hard to comprehend. How on Earth, we might ask, did things get this bad? [...]

Looking back at older cartoons, one of the things that stands out immediately is the absence of negative attitudes toward the homeless. In fact, during the Golden Age of animation, creators seemed to have had a real affinity for the poor and unhoused, often placing their most iconic characters in that role. There’s a wonderful 1948 Warner Bros. short called “Riff Raffy Daffy,” in which Daffy Duck is looking for a place to sleep—first on a park bench, then a trash can, and finally a furniture display in a shop window—and has to dodge the harassment of the police, as represented by Porky Pig in a little blue uniform. (Literally, the cop is a pig!) Or, in the 1950 cartoon “Homeless Hare,” Bugs Bunny’s rabbit hole is destroyed by a new construction project, leading him to unleash his usual slapstick mayhem against the developers until they put it back. In these cartoons, homelessness is something inflicted on people by outside forces—gentrification and the real estate business, in Bugs’ case—and something which can be successfully resisted. Even Disney cast a homeless dog as a romantic lead in 1955’s Lady and the Tramp, contrasting Lady’s sheltered naivety with Tramp’s superior knowledge of the world. The title invokes the memory of Charlie Chaplin’s “Tramp” films, which similarly brought dignity and humanity to the role of a homeless man. (Bugs Bunny, too, takes inspiration from Chaplin, and multiple Warner animators have drawn him as the Tramp.) In 1961, Hanna-Barbera’s profoundly underrated Top Cat followed the adventures of a gang of wisecracking Manhattan alley cats, who, like Daffy, are always outwitting a meddling policeman. At worst, classic cartoons may trivialize the suffering and danger associated with homelessness—there’s a certain recurring image of the carefree hobo carrying a bindle, which paints the whole subject in a romanticized light—but the homeless themselves are rarely disparaged or made the butt of the joke. Quite the opposite. 

It took a few years, but cartoons caught up to the Reaganite turn. In episodes from the ’90s and early 2000s, there’s a palpable shift in the way homeless characters appear compared to earlier decades. The perspective is different: we’re now seeing them through the eyes of comfortably housed characters, rather than their own. Often they don’t even get proper names. [...] This trajectory leads us, perhaps inevitably, to SpongeBob SquarePants. [..] Squidward gets accused of stealing a dime by his comically greedy boss, Mr. Krabs, and quits his job in a fit of outrage. We then flash forward to see Squidward, now bedraggled and unshaven, living in a cardboard box on the street and begging for change. [...] Mercifully, the ever-cheerful SpongeBob gives Squidward a place to stay—but the moment he’s safely off the street, Squidward turns from a sympathetic victim of circumstance into a lazy, entitled freeloader, straight out of a Reagan speech. He makes no effort to find work and loafs around SpongeBob’s house for ages. [...] Eventually, an exasperated SpongeBob writes “GET A JOB” in his alphabet soup, before shoving him (bed and all) back to work at the Krusty Krab. [...] Worst of all, though, the episode suggests that homelessness can be solved on an individual basis if the people in question simply stop being lazy and “GET A JOB.” This is the biggest myth of all. In 2021, a statistical analysis by the University of Chicago found that 53 percent of people in homeless shelters, and 40.4 percent of unsheltered people, do have jobs. The problem is that their wages are too low, and rents are too high. According to statistics from the same year, it’s impossible for someone working a full-time, minimum-wage job to afford a single-bedroom apartment in 93 percent of U.S. counties, and there are no states in which someone can rent a two-bedroom space on the current federal minimum wage of $7.25 per hour. In other words, homelessness has little or nothing to do with personal responsibility, or lack thereof. It’s a consequence of large-scale economic decisions made by landlords and bosses. [...]

— Alex Skopic

[syoddeye]

cw: butcher!simon, darkfic, dead animals, no butchery depicted, temperature torture, implied limb removal. definitely not for everyone. 490 words.

you find yourself hanging between pig carcasses in cold storage. swaying. chain creaking.

the chill sinks beneath your skin, numbing you in long, creeping waves. your fingers twitch, but grow stiffer by the minute. slowly ceding control to the ice. the threat of unconsciousness stalks the edges of your vision and mind, willing you to close your straining eyes and frosted lashes. find peace in oblivion. but the thought of what happens after keeps you stubborn.

of course, there are consequences for staying awake, too.

fifteen minutes, simon said. lettin' you off easy, he said. an eternity spent sailing the cocytus would be more comforting.

you're on the descent, about to pass orpheus on the stairs, when the door opens. the rush of warm air stings and bites, stirring your reflexes and making you thrash weakly. he chuckles as he takes you off the hooks, casting aside your shackles. he throws you over his shoulder, knocking the air from your lungs in scrapes, and pats your flank.

he lays you out on the table, a wet and sticky puddle smears and squishes beneath your back. he looms, his brutish form blocking out the sterile light above. something thick and heavy falls over you, slightly damp and smelling of iron, but you make no move to shed it. you can't, anyway. it's warm and solid but malleable like worn leather.

simon takes shears to your clothes. cutting them from your body and replacing your cover as he goes. his hand slips to your throat and wrists every few minutes. the thick pads of his fingers wrapped in elastic press down firm, monitoring.

he tuts about the kitchen. the longer you lay there, the more feeling you regain. the clearer your mind becomes. you realize your blanket isn't a blanket at all, but his stained apron. still sopping from a day's work.

he strokes your cheek when he catches you staring, petrified.

"feelin' warmer?"

you barely nod, the muscles and tendons of your neck uncooperative. he cups your chin, dragging it down and up, ignoring your whimper of pain.

"yeah? good. let's 'ave a chat."

simon drags a stool along the linoleum to sit behind your head, forcing you to roll your eyes back as far as they'll go. he pets your temples and forehead, closely examining you.

"tried to run. not smart, pet," he leans close, breath fanning over your face. "makes it the third time. remember what i told ya?"

an object clatters onto the table beside you, heavy enough to rattle a small shockwave through your back. his eyes don't stray from your face, but his head tilts expectantly. swallowing thickly, you crane your neck, nerves screaming in protest.

you see the handle first. then the long, steel body. the teeth. a hand saw longer than your arm, one you've seen him take to the pigs in the freezer.

"it's a shame. liked your legs."

[ltwilliammowett]

Superstitions of Scotland's fishermen

Perhaps due to the dangers of their profession or their interdependence, fishing communities developed their own unique customs and folklore. They were close-knit and conservative, and their names, food and way of life differed from those of the neighbouring population. There was often rivalry even between different fishing villages, and they rarely married outside their own community.

Because of the dangerous nature of their work, they were unusually superstitious, as were all those involved with the sea. There were words that were considered very unlucky, for example the word minister was never mentioned - he was called the man in the black coat, and the words hare, salmon (red fish), rat (long tail), pig (curly tail) and salt were among the most forbidden words. If the men came across a hare, a dog or a red-haired man, they refused to set sail, and if they found a rabbit, a hare, a pigeon or a dove on board, they certainly did not disembark. The antidote to bad luck was to touch cauld iron.

Other customs were associated with sailing and fishing. For example, it was bad luck to cast the nets on the port side, to taste the food before the first fish was caught or not to take the blood of the first fish. In some places, fights were instigated so that blood could be spilt before the fleet set sail. Some boats were considered unlucky in themselves because they had the wrong names or did not behave according to the rules. One way to avoid bad luck was to never row against the sun (anti-clockwise) when leaving the harbour.

Rituals and spells were said to influence the weather. It was believed that you could whistle up the wind or untie it with special knots in a rope - one knot would cause a breeze, the second a hurricane and the third a storm. The weather was always expected to change on a Friday.

In some areas, other days of the week had special significance, bringing either good or bad luck. For example, most communities did not fish on Sunday, even though it was considered a lucky day. It was believed that work started on a Saturday took seven more Saturdays, while work started on a Monday was quickly completed.

Before a young man could become a fisherman, there were initiation rituals where he had to prove himself, and even today, customs and superstitions still influence the life of a fisherman. Echoes of the old customs can still be found in the villages today. However, as you may have just realised, this type of superstition is confined purely to Scottish fishermen, these types were also regularly found on ships. The reason for this was that many sailors came from the fishing villages as well as their compatriots, and so their superstitions and rituals were taken on board and spread.

[onmyyan]

Save a horse, ride a cowboy.

A/N: here comes the boy NOT EDITED

TW'S: FEM READER, YANDERE, STALKING, MANIPULATION, MURDER, MENTION OF PIGS EATING CORPSES NOT GRAPHIC 👁️👄👁️, READER GETS CALLED PRETTY GIRL

Ashley Hunt HC's

The idealized western cowboy in a modern man's body.

6'6 and wide as a barn, Ashley is an old-fashioned type of beautiful, looks like someone straight out of an Old Western.

His sandy hair has a habit of falling in his eyes when he's working so he often wears a brown leather hat he'd gotten from his Father to prevent this.

He has this habit when he's thinking where he plays with his lips, it's very distracting.

Smells and looks like he's just come running from somewhere- never unpleasant though, it's a mix of sweat and the country air.

Always has that saccharine smile on his handsome face.

Has a loud, goofy laugh, his eyes light up when he does it and his nose scrunches in the cutest way.

He's polite to everyone he meets but he is far from a pushover.

Hates bullies of any kind. Takes on the hero role whenever he's confronted with injustice.

If he sees something wrong he can't just sit by and not do something.

Which isn't hard considering this big mf hauls farm equipment around for a living, he's had to wrestle rowdy bulls into their pens before, he can take another person down easily.

Holds the door open for you every time. Don't even think about touching that handle.

His go-to look is a pair of denim Levi jeans (man's got serious cake when he's working all the strong muscles in his thighs bulge), a white tank that sits on his flesh like a second skin, if it isn't too hot he'll throw on a flannel.

Got a BAMF belt buckle as a gag gift one year but he unironically loves it.

Does this thing where he stands at his full height, stares down at you, his hat casting a dark shadow over his heated stare, both of his big, strong hands rested comfortably on the buckle, it made your knees weak every time.

Knows you have a thing for his voice so he likes to come up from behind and gently kiss just below your ear,

"Hey there Sugar Bear."

All his clothes look well-loved and worn, he don't care much for how he looks, which is ironic since the whole town calls him a pretty boy.

Looks like someone pulled him straight out of one of those sexy country man calendars.

He's a pretty confident guy, except when it comes to you, of course, then he turns into a bumbling teenager trying to talk to his crush without fumbling over his words.

Gets all red and blushy when you call him pretty. Literally has to fan himself with his hat.

You like to randomly shower him with compliments and he gets so flustered he has to stop what he's doing to kiss you.

"Good lord woman yer gonna' put me in an early grave."

For a while, you had to avoid the friendly farmer because the mere sight of him hauling hundred-pound stacks of hay like they weighed nothing had you feeling some not-so-platonic things.

Has you sweating like a sinner in church just from one well-timed boyish smile.

His wavy locks are a few different shades of dirty blonde, he's almost always wearing his hat in an effort to keep his bangs outta his eyes,

The times he took the damn thing off were your favorite cuz the way his hair fell around his face, framing it beautifully, you could really see all of his marble-carved features.

Takes his hat off inside, of course, his mama raised him right.

Works on his family's farm, he grew up working the fields with his Pa so hard work is in his blood.

When he starts something he finishes it. No matter what.

That includes pursuing you as his one and only.

Sun-kissed skin from being outside all day.

He can play the acoustic guitar and loves to sing to himself during his free time.

Voice is deep and warm.

Really good at puzzles.

Loves the idea of a big family but at the same time is so possessive of you and your attention that he battles with the idea.

Likes to draw for fun, mostly sketches and stuff is really good at it.

He likes to sketch you most of all.

Has dozens upon dozens of journals filled with your visage, he doesn't think he can ever truly capture your beauty.

Really self-sufficient if something breaks down in your house and you don't wanna spend a fortune calling some company, you called Ashley Hunt, and he never asked for anything in return either.

Whenever he goes to town people always stop him for something, be it for his help or to give him some goods as thanks, he never leaves empty-handed.

The whole town just adores him, so much so that if you ever tried to run from him, try to use the townsfolk to hide, they'd lure you into a false sense of security, convincing you they'd drive you outta town, only to hand deliver you back to Ash.

He's a protective/possessive/worshiper kinda Yandere.

The first time you meet you're just moving into your Gran's old farmhouse, he knows your Grandma well as she's the closest neighbor to his Farm, he'd been regularly helping her out with household chores or busy work whenever she asked.

The day he sees you hop out of her pick-up, he swore his heart skipped seven different beats.

Your delicious-looking form was clad in these little shorts, no doubt trying to combat that county heat. The black t-shirt you had on was rolled up at the sleeves showing off your arms, he watched them flex as you hauled a box over your shoulder like it was nothing.

His throat goes dry, sweat begins beading at his temple, and it's not the 90-degree weather, you helped your grandmother out of the car with a graceful smile and a certain kind of sweetness, the sight had a swarm of butterflies going wild in his belly.

He saw the remaining boxes stacked in the back of the truck and knew he'd found his ticket in.

You'd come back outside to the towering man at the edge of the yard, hat in hand, he'd shoot you that star-studded smile, voice sounding like melted butter.

"Hello there Miss, my name's Ashley Hunt, I'm your next-door neighbor, I just came on by to check if y'all needed a hand." He gestured towards the truck with his hat.

Then you had the nerve to shoot him that damned smile, so bright and full of life it nearly knocked him out of his socks.

He spends the rest of the day helping you move in, the conversation flowing so easily by the time you two stopped talking it was well past midnight.

He learned so much about you, just from this one convo he knows everything he needs to about you.

And you're perfect.

"I sure am sorry for keeping you up so late sweetheart." Running his hands through his hair he couldn't keep his eyes off you.

He watched you visibly light up at the pet name and couldn't fight the smirk pulling at his lips.

"Don't worry about it! I was having so much fun- again thank you so much for all your help today." You looked so sweet standing there next to him, he was a good head or so taller than you, you looked up at him with those beautiful (e/c) eyes and he had to fight the strong urge to hold you against his chest.

Knows from that night alone you're his Darling.

It's inevitable you spend time with him, as he was your closest neighbor.

He finds any and all excuses to come over in the beginning.

"This floorboard feels a little loose, I'll come by later n' fix her up."

"That window feels a bit drafty hun, why don't I get a handle on that."

Eventually, he runs out of stuff to repair and builds the courage to just ask you out for a romantic dinner at his place. He doesn't cook anything fancy, but it does taste good a real homemade meal.

He thinks long and hard about how to show you he's the one and comes up with a teeth-rottingly cute idea.

Leads you by a gentle hand out to his field where he'd prepared a soft blanket and several throw pillows, fairy lights were strung up on the fence nearest, casting a warm glow on the scene.

After you spend hours talking and giggling, you lay back against the soft blanket and stare up at the clear sky.

Well, you were busy with the stars, he was busy staring at you.

"Ain't you a pretty picture."

That night after he walks you home, just before you turn to say goodnight, cups your face in one hand, "Can I kiss you pretty girl?" And when you breathlessly nod yes, he brings his other hand to the back of your neck and softly pulls you the rest of the way in.

He kisses you the same way soldiers kiss their wives before war, takes the breath outta you both.

Loves when you do anything domestic if you cook at his place or oh my god for him? He's whipping out the ring before the plates are clear.

Or when you stay the night for the first time, he's immediately addicted to the way you feel in his arms, and literally cannot sleep without you by his side look what you've done.

His morning voice is to die for.

"G'mornin' pumpkin." He has the biggest grin on his face when he wakes up, likes to trace his fingers on your bare skin.

You put his hat on once as a goof but he freezes in place, his face is beet red and his breath gets all heavy.

"Don't move a muscle Darlin'- lemme get a good look at ya'."

"Mm mm mm- now that's a sight a man could get used to."

Sleeps naked, if you're uncomfortable with it he'd throw on some boxers but that's it.

Runs too hot for much else.

Sleeps on his stomach and likes to stare at you when he does it.

Hold his hand and he will giggle like a little kid.

He's a lot smarter than he looks so his Yandere tendencies are easy to hide.

"C'mere sweetheart, don't think we're leaving the bed yet."

He's slowly getting you used to the idea of being his housewife, just wants to take care of you.

Like I said before he's beloved by the entire town so if anyone ever tried something with you he didn't approve of (smile at you a little too hard, make you laugh, get too close for his liking) all he's gotta do is give em' that look and if they're smart enough they back right on off.

However if their self-preservation doesn't kick in at that murderous glare, he gives em' one and only one warning to stay away from what was his. It's only polite.

If they did, Ashley would be all smiles and buddy-buddy. You'd never even know something was wrong.

If they don't back down though, well that's what he keeps pigs for.

Did you know pigs can eat a whole body in like three hours? Cuz Ashley knows.

[vvynia]

abby and your family’s thanksgiving

pairing: a. anderson x black southern belle!reader

genre: fluff w/ brief mention of smut (mdni)

word count: its headcanons so its short but idk the specific number sowwwy

warnings: not beta read, brief mentions of homophobia but only bc reader’s family isn’t like that, mention of family drama, pregnancy mention, brief moment where religion is talked about (saying grace/prayer)

synopsis: this is literally just headcanons of what would happen if our beloved abby anderson attended your family’s thanksgiving/reunion if you don’t celebrate. very much black reader-centric, but anyone’s welcome to read it esp if you’re from the south cause this is also heavily southern reader coded.

bringing abby anderson to your black (southern) family’s thanksgiving would be a sight to behold.

and imagine its everyone’s FIRST time meeting her too. assuming everyone is super cool and unhateful, i just know she’d have all the aunties’ attention. they see her height, her build and turn to you talkin about, “now, where’d you find her?”

abby would 100% be in ya grandmama’s backyard huddled around the grill with the uncles and dads. she’s got a lil beer in hand (she probably doesn’t even like beer but she likes fitting in and it isn’t all bad when the bonding is genuine) one of em goes “mhm that turkey bout done smokin” and abby is taking mental notes cause one day, she’s gonna smoke a turkey for you two’s family, in your backyard, and your grandkids are gonna be running around

the kids are OBSESSED with her. they climb her like she’s a jungle gym, ask her to throw them in the air, ask her all types of questions. “ABIGAIL! come play with us!” and she does, but the whole time she’s wondering how they discovered what her full name is cause she sure ain’t tell em lool

sometime after, she gets together in the livingroom with you and your cousins, then that one uncle or aunt comes in, says a few words, then leaves with a plate. the gossip commences lol and she’s so in tune to what ya’ll are talking about. she thought her family could dog somebody out?

all that pales in comparison to yall’s words. these sly (and sometimes even blatant) insults are unhinged, the storyline is juicy. she feels like she’s listening to an audiobook of lore. and whenever she asks a question for clarification, someone is always ready to start from the beginning with “see, what had happened was” and “to make a long story short” (the story was not made short)

then it actually comes time to eat, time for her to have her taste buds born anew

your family has whipped up some southern classics: sweet potato pie, pig feet, neck bones and collard greens, cabbage, pound cake, and every other dish you can think of.

you were in charge of the sweet tea, but this year you made a peach batch cause you know abby likes peaches 🥰

ya’ll say grace cause lets be real, if this is the south, somebody baptist and its probably the family matriarch lol

abby is respectful about it whether she believes in god or not cause your family has treated her with the most open of arms and she can feel the love and hospitality all around (if god is real, she thinks, he would’ve wanted everyone who believes in him to be like my sweet girl’s family)

when ya’ll are done and everyone has plated their food, they’re all silently waiting for the white girl’s reaction. they’re trying to play it off, be casual, not stare LOL but they know what’s coming i must admit

and abby doesn’t disappoint cause as you’re sitting next to her, soon as she puts some of them collard greens in her mouth and a couple candied yams and your grandaddy’s secret cast iron skillet macaroni recipe in her mouth, the satisfaction is written all over her face

everyone starts laughing when one of the kids say, “damn, girl, is it good?” to which they’re scolded lol but ofc abby nods like she’s trying to shake the hair follicles out her head

after everyone has ate and said what they’re thankful for (she says she’s thankful for you ofc but she leaves out how thankful she is for getting to strap you down at least twice a week), you two go sit on the porch alone.

you’re leaned against her in a two-seater rocking chair, bellies impossibly full, enjoying the gentle breeze and setting sun and the scent of food that is still wafting from the house

one of your cousin’s kids runs up from the backyard, comes up to you asking for help with opening a new toy, so you help

abby sees how cool you are, how in your element you are with your family, and this moment truly solidifies how much she wants this with you too. ya’ll have had the kids conversation before, so she knows you want at least one

she can’t help but think how gorgeous you’d look bein her housewife, barefoot and pregnant and divine and ethereal, starting a family, never having to worry for a thing bc she’s gonna take care of you

and she knows, when she needs it, you’ll take care of her too

I LOVE LOVE

[tobiasdrake]

Ranma 1/2 episode 3. I can't be the only person who somehow, despite not thinking about this series seriously in a long time, still hears "YAPPAPPA YAPPAPPA II SHAN TEN hashagu koi wa ike no koi" in their head when starting up the reboot series.

Where did you come from? I thought I forgot you.

By contrast, the new OP hasn't grown on me as much. Can't imagine why. It couldn't be that I've heard the new one twice but heard the old one eight billion times over the course of three decades, such that any new music in its place is going to inherently sound like an imposter.

Nah, it's probably just that the song isn't good. That's a reasonable thing to conclude.

(In seriousness, new OP is fun.)

Uhhhhh, part 1 because I had a lot to say about Nabiki, my fave from back in the day who gets to be in the spotlight for the first time this episode.

Speaking of the OP, this is my favorite shot.

I don't know what it is exactly but every time I see this, there is a haunted look in Ranma's eyes. I don't think that's on purpose. I think he's just supposed to look like he's happily jogging.

But I see a thousand-yard stare on this boy. The look of a person who has seen things that can never be unseen.

Which.

Is fair.

For Ranma.

Rejected so hard. This is a misunderstanding but it's still hilarious how quickly Nabiki nopes the fuck out of this shit.

To be fair, she's seen the way Kuno treats the women he's interested in. If I were her, I would want no part of that.

Ironically enough, Nabiki/Kuno is IIRC the most popular ship for both of these characters. Though, given that being physically strong enough to beat the shit out of him at martial arts is such an important quality to Kuno, I'm not sure he and Nabiki are really compatible.

Makes perfect sense from Nabiki's perspective but honestly I'm pretty sure she's more likely to Black Widow him for his wealth than fall in love with him sincerely.

So begins Nabiki's career of being the absolute worst person in Ranma's life, in a cast that includes multiple people attempting to murder him. Nabiki is something far worse than a shonen rival. Worse than a romantic rival. Worse than a shonen rival who wants to surpass you at romancing your love interest.

She's a capitalist. And she has found a saleable product.

(My characters are always the absolute worst. Goddammit, Nabiki.)

There's something really interesting in Nabiki's reaction to that remark. Like. She gets back into gear pretty quickly after this moment.

But.

Just for a moment.

She had a visceral, kneejerk reaction of shock and disgust at the realization that Kuno was planning on pursuing Ranma and Akane at the same time.

Just for a moment, she had an emotional reaction strong enough to break her poker face.

I mean, she's still going to profit off it. She is a capitalist after all.

But it happened. That brief glimpse into the humanity underneath the cash register was there.

For those unaware of yen to dollar exchange rates, she's charging about $20 for Ranma's photos. Akane's are about $27. So we can actually quantify her feelings for Akane. She loves her sister exactly $7 more than a stranger she met a few days ago.

Don't take it personally. It's just business.

(I felt really gross saying that. Probably because it was really gross. In seriousness, Nabiki is an active participant in Akane's harassment, without Akane's knowledge.)

That said, she does still try to help this situation once she's done cashing in on violations of Ranma and Akane's privacy.

It doesn't take because Kuno aggressively refuses to learn the truth about the Pig-Tailed Girl throughout the series lest it compromise his delusions. But she does try. There seems like there's basically no reason for her to do this except to burst Kuno's bubble.

...except then she also does this when she realizes Kuno didn't get it.

She tried to burst Kuno's bubble and it didn't work so now she's making it worse instead. At this point, it's clear that Nabiki's just starting shit for funsies. She is the show's trickster. Her allegiances are to money and entertainment.

She was expecting a hilarious blowout the one way and when she didn't get it, she went a different route. Goddammit, Nabiki.

Of course, her troll antics eventually blow up in her face when they out her capitalist antics.

But she never really has to face any sort of consequences for it. Right when it seems like things are about to turn against her...

Ranma, rather than presenting a united front against their mutual abuser, decides to open his fucking mouth and insult Akane instead.

This is how capitalists win. They skate home with all the money and no comeuppance while their victims pick each apart.

[slowthypiglordblr]

Huntress Mononoke: Adventure Time Cast represented with Princess Mononoke Characters

Finn the Human as Ashitaka

Finn's grass arm will probably be his cursed hand.

Huntress Wizard as Mononoke Him/San

Molto Larvo as Lord Nago

Finn getting touched by Larvo's molten hand be like.

Flame Princess as Kaya

While the english dub she refers to Ashitaka as "brother", she was actually meant to be his "Bride Elect".

The Lich is represented through the Tatari-Gami/Demon Curse

Marceline Abadeer as Moro-No-Kimi/Moro

Pretend that she can still shapeshift this time.

Princess Bubblegum and Peppermint Butler are Lady Eboshi and Gonza respectively.

Iron town is the Candy Kingdom

Billy as Okkotonushi/Okkoto

BILLLLYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Jake the Dog as Yakul

Choose Goose as Jiko-Bou/Jigo

The Lemongrabs are the Ape Tribe

Mr. Pig and Tree Trunks are Koroku and Toki respectively

The Penguins as the Kodoma

There is literally nothing I can imagine from the Adventure Time Universe that quite matches the otherworldly nature and presence of the Shishigami/Forest Spirit/Nightwalker. So instead I'll just let you decide that one.

[neometaliks]

Technological Advancements In Pig Iron Production

Find out here about the technological advancements in pig iron production. You should also learn about pig iron for casting, and pig iron price.

[urbanrelics]

ALIENWORKS

Abandoned steelworks power plant.

This iron and steel factory is a former blast furnace cast iron factory, built in 1890 by a German family business. The factory specialized in the production of pig iron, made from local iron ore.

Thanks to the company's continuous modernization, its ideal location in the French steel basin and the restructuring of the steel industry, the company concentrated its entire production of French cast iron in the mid-1960s.

Despite all these favorable criteria and technical innovations, the company, like all other steel companies, suffered seriously from the crisis in the steel industry in the 1970s. The company managed to survive for a while, but was forced to announce its closure in the early 1990s.

Part of the site, including the blast furnace itself, was preserved as industrial heritage.

In this series of photos you see the power plant that was part of the blast furnace company. It is a classic power plant, with turbines from Brown Boveri and AEG, among others, driven by steam that was produced in the adjacent boiler room.

The site is well secured and difficult to access, which also explains why it has been preserved in its current beautiful state.

[silens-oro]

Eye for an Eye

Aemond Targaryen x F!Targaryen!Reader

Synopsis: Aemond has done the unthinkable and must deal with the consequences brought onto his family.

No "y/n" mentioned

Word Count: 3,203

Warning: Darkfic. Targaryen brother/sister incestuous marriage, pregnancy, foeticide, murder.

AN: This is my first attempt to write anything in months, as well as my first post in the GOT/HOTD fandom. Please be kind. House of the Dragon requests are OPEN

The sound of the door latching shut knocked you out of your thoughts. The flames before you crackled, embers breaking as if to signify the future of your great House. Your eyes glanced to the man, your darling brother husband, as he stood but a few steps in front of the door. His usual pridefulness was not present as his eye was cast to look at anything but you.

“For a man who takes pride in his volition,” You started, not bothering to give him your attention, “How well read he is, how well traveled he is, how cunning and calculated he is, how deserving he is of the Iron Throne because of those qualities that his King brother does not possess…you’ve done the stupidest thing you could’ve possibly done, Aemond, and you have damned us all in the process,” The words spat from your lips, the golden flames of the fireplace danced upon your skin, icy hair glowing in the darkness. Your eyes gleamed with dragon fire, Aemond noted, and they directed themselves unwaveringly at him. 

“Not the homecoming I was anticipating from my beautiful wife,” He began, advancing towards you. You were known, out of all the children sired from Viserys, as the clearest thinker -the most put together of his children. The most level-headed.

The problem solver. 

You were the child who could see the big picture, that the Targaryen legacy was much bigger than you, your siblings, or your father. Duty, as you made sure to remind your siblings, came above all else in order to extend the Targaryen rule for the next thousand years.

Viserys typically treated his children with Alicent as if they weren’t there, with the exception of you. You came into his life just as Rhaenyra was leaving it and he immediately latched on. Though Rhaenyra was always put on a pedestal above you and the rest of your siblings, you were not far below her in the standings. 

Knowing all of these qualities that you possessed, Aemond could see the Targaryen Madness leaking through your carefully constructed walls, and it was all his doing. 

“You dare make a jest after what you’ve done!” Your voice cut him off, finger pointed dangerously at him. Fire could’ve blazed through your mouth and he wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised. Your fury was a rarity, and while he deserved every bit of the tongue lashing he was sure to get, it cut deeper coming from you. “You’ve been gone a fortnight, and in that time you have put the final crack into what would cause this family’s collapse.”

For the entirety of his life Aemond looked to you for guidance. When Rhaenyra’s bastards, as well as Aegon, taunted the dragon-less boy of 10 with a costumed pig, it was you whom he ran to. When he tamed Vhagar, you were the first he tried to seek out in hopes of impressing you. Aemond had imagined, boyishly daydreamed, that you would ride your Aerraxys side by side with him at the helm of Vhagar.

You were the first to run to him after Luke viciously took his eye. It was you who sat by his side as he healed, nurturing him back to health. You had his first patch crafted so that he may step out into the world with confidence once his wound had healed enough. You had instilled his sense of worth after that night wherein he may have lost his eye, but he gained the largest -most feared- dragon in the realm. Most would give much more for what he had.

It was you who held him in your tiny arms at four summers as he gained his first breaths into the world. You who cared for him, protected him, shaped him into the man that stood before you and he could never repay that debt.

It took a moment for you to stand from your chair, hand braced against your ever growing belly as you tried to steady your balance. Aemond was quick to guide you with a hand planted on your lower back for support, but you brushed his hand off in irritation. 

Never had you brushed off his affections.

“Do not think -for a single moment- that what you’ve done-” You stopped yourself short, your stomach turning at the words that tried to escape. Taking a deep breath, you centered yourself. “I do not fault you for the malice you hold towards Luke. If I could’ve plucked both of his beady eyes from his bastard skull at that very moment, I would have. I would take every eye in the city if it pleased you, but you’ve gone too far.”

“My own father never sought justice for what he did to me. My eye-”

“-Is gone!” Aemond could’ve sworn the walls shook with your fury. “It is gone, dear brother. Ten years gone and it will not return. I am sorry, truly, deeply for the pain, suffering, and mistreatment that cretin and his brother have caused you, but this was not the way to enact your vengeance. Not when everything we have worked so hard for  -what mother has worked so hard for- hangs precariously in the balance. You let your anger cloud your judgement, Aemond, and it will be to our detriment.” A moment of silence encased the room before Aemond spoke.

“I cannot change what has transpired. What's done is done, but I confess to you -as I stand before you- that even in my rage what happened was not my intention -his death. I need you to believe these words. I have never once given you cause for suspicion of falsehood,” He begged, hands cupping your face. Grasping his chin not so kindly, you kept him in your heated gaze. “I meant to scare the little prick," He continued, "but Vhagar saw to a different justice,”

“Your intention matters not! Rheanyra’s son is dead, Aemond! By proxy of your hand he is dead!” You shouted, roughly letting his face go. He took deep breaths to calm himself. As much as he wanted to scream and fight back, he knew the point was moot. “You have catapulted us headfirst into a war that most will not see the end of! Legitimacy be damned, you‘ve killed a prince! Our nephew! She will stop at nothing, Aemond, until we are all but ash in the wind. Rhaenyra would’ve bent the knee eventually. She had little support, and now…” Aemond hadn’t moved an inch, the true reality of the situation starting to set in. This was not something that could be fixed by the wave of a King’s hand. This action would have an opposite and equal reaction. He just didn’t know what would be lost along the way. “This will be her rallying cry.”

Both Aegon and Aemond looked to you, their eldest sister, for guidance their entire lives. Though they rarely admitted it, your words were held in regard nearly as high -if not higher- than your Queen mother’s. Both your mother and father used it to their advantage. Helaena -your dear, sweet sister- was also kept under your close watch, shielded from as many discomforts as you possibly could manage. You protected your family with everything you had, and it seems that it would be all for naught. 

Aemond watched as you walked to the window, pouring yourself a glass of water from the pitcher that sat on the sill. He followed your movements as you paced the bedroom slowly. 

As the first-born to Viserys and Alicent, there were expectations set upon you, and some you had shifted into. Marrying your youngest brother, four years your junior, was not an expectation, but given the pool of candidates, it made the most sense in your eyes.

At the time of the betrothal, Aemond was one and ten years, while you were five and ten with many prospects trying to win the hand of the King’s daughter. Aegon was furious at the time of the announcement as he felt that because he was the first born son, it was his birthright to marry you if he saw fit. One sentence from you was all it took for Aegon to tuck tail.

“If we were to wed, dear Aegon, you’d be smothered in your sleep at the first chance.”

While you loved your eldest brother dearly, Aegon’s temperaments, as well as his lack of care when it came to his royal duties -whether he wanted to do them or not- was what kept you from considering him. As he grew older and his tastes developed, you were more than confident that your choice to marry Aemond was the correct one. Your father couldn’t have been happier with the match to keep the Targaryen bloodline as strong as ever.

You were wed four years later. Aemond knew his good fortune when you became his wife. It was love in its purest form bound together for eternity -in this life and the next. It was as natural as breathing, as the birds fly in the sky, as the flowers sway in the breeze. It just was. 

Considering this, Aemond gained the courage to speak.

“My love,” His voice was soft as he gazed upon you. The leather patch was gone from his face and the sapphire glimmered in the firelight. He took long strides over to you, hand gently caressing the side of your neck while the other pressed softly to your belly through the sheer white nightgown and nightcoat. “Luke made it to Storm’s End well after I had, with little to show for it. If anything, he slighted the Lord Baratheon by coming with nothing but a hope and a dream,” He began, his thumb sliding up to rub the apple of your cheek.

“And what of you?” You questioned. Your fury wasn’t completely directed towards Aemond’s brash actions towards your late cousin, though they were still aimed at Aemond nonetheless. “What did you fill your hands with to drop at the Lord’s feet?” Your eyebrows were angrily set, the rage that had dampened was breathing back to life before him.

“Better terms than the little Prince that never was and never will be,” His face was neutral as he said this, purposefully skirting around the answer. 

“What were the terms?” You spat, nearly hissing. His hand moved back to the side of your neck and squeezed gently in warning. 

“What ever are the terms, sweetling?” He questioned back, as if speaking to a child. “If we want loyalty from the Baratheon’s, marriage was the only offer to be put forth,”

“With whom?” By the look on yours face, he knew you already had your answer. “Who are we to marry to that swine slop of a family? Tell me!” You screamed, tears flooding your violet eyes. You allowed them to fall, begging Aemond to look at the face of a mother’s pain and sacrifice. Begged him to look at what his actions have done to you. 

“My babe is yet to be born and you’ll rip them cruelly from my hands?” You wailed angrily. “Will you scoop them up the second they drop from me, Husband? To be sold!” 

“Enough!” Aemond’s voice echoed in the room, silencing your hysterics. Your bottom lip quivered as he stared straight into your soul. The heartbreak he saw in your eyes could’ve taken him out at the knees, though he stood steadfast. If he could spare you the turmoils, he would, but no one would be spared in the horrors of war. 

“I have raised you, Aemond,” You whispered, tears clouding your voice, “Guided you, comforted you, loved you! And it means nothing!”

“We are at war, dear wife, whether I killed that brat or not!” He spat, squeezing tighter to subdue you. Your hands grasped his wrist. “This is but a small price, though I loathe to pay it,” His hissed through clenched teeth. He braced his forehead against yours for a moment. You closed your eyes as you cried into him. “I will fill you with a hundred babes if you so wish, my love, but it does not change where we are now. King Aegon commands it, thus is must be so.” He shifted to hold you to his chest. His white shirt absorbed your tears and muffled your sobs.

“Aegon has children to throw to the crows. Why does he not offer them up?” You demanded, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. “Children he cares not about. Children he treats the same way father treated him, but they were not offered as tribute,” 

“What you speak of is treasonous,” Aemond whispered into your ear.

“Treason be damned! My child, our child, will not be thrown to the stags before their first breath, Aemond! After all I have given you, you cannot ask this of me,”

“I’m not asking,” He sighed, detaching himself from you but keeping you at arm’s length. “The deal is done. We will keep the child until they are of age for the formal betrothal. Dependent on the gender, they will either stay here to marry and live out their lives, or they will return to Storm’s End. This is the way of royalty and politics, my love. You taught me that. No one escapes from it.”

“We did,” You replied earnestly, resting your hand on his heaving chest. 

“We are not most.” He reasoned, taking your hand in his own. 

“No…we are not.” With that, Aemond kissed the crown of your head and left the room. 

“Ser Harold,” You heard Aemond command as the door closed. The sworn knight, your protector for nearly a decade, was stood outside your chamber door and would be so long as Aemond was not near. You could not hear the discussion through the door but it did not matter to you. The bed was calling your name and who were you to ignore.

A clamor and a grunt from outside the chamber door startled you awake. The fire at the end of the room was merely glowing embers so it must’ve been a few hours since you closed your eyes. Aemond still had yet to return, but with the political climate as of recent, it wasn’t surprising. 

Groaning, you climbed out of the comforts of the bed and pulled your nightcoat over your nightgown. Lighting a candle, you grabbed your dagger -a precaution Aemond had mentioned when he initially brought the blade to you- and stepped towards the door.

“Ser Harrold,” You called through the door after the commotion stilled to a silence on the other side. “Answer me at once,” you demanded. A singular pair of boots could be heard on the other side of the door, feather light but still noticeable in the dead silence. As you stepped closer to lean your ear to the door, your bare foot stepped in a warm, thick liquid. Leaning down as far as you could go, you brought the candle down to illuminate what you had stepped in. Gasping in horror, you straightened yourself up and stepped back from the door. 

Blood. Blood coated your feet, squelching between your toes. The blood of Ser Harrold. 

Dagger clutched firmly in your hand, you silently moved to the false book case near the fireplace. Secret corridors littered the Red Keep, which wasn’t a secret of itself. You had just hoped that whoever was outside your door did not know of their existence. With the false door closed behind you, you took a breath. Your sworn sword, a dear friend, was dead. 

The endless passages and tunnels would’ve proven a deadly labyrinth for anyone who hadn’t grown up in the Keep. Aemond would drag you down them as children to spy on anyone you’d come across. Secrets and debauchery held close, known only to you and Aemond. It gave you both a sense of giddiness and closeness that you knew the deepest secrets of the kingdom, and that those who harbored them were none the wiser. You believed that is where Aemond had developed his cunning. 

Taking the next passage to the right would take you in the direction you hoped your husband would be. At the very least, guards, knights, maids -anyone. You made it to the end and took another breath, your dagger in the position of attack. Using your body, you pushed the false door open just a crack to see if you could see anyone walking the corridor. It was dimly lit with torches, but it was as close as you were going to get with the series of passages you had access to from your quarters. Building whatever Targaryen courage you had within you, you set the candle down on the ground and pushed the door open enough to squeeze through before pushing it shut. The corridor was clear in both directions, much to your relief. Though that relief was short lived.

“Princess,” The voice of a thousand serpents hissed behind you. Turning swiftly, all of the air in your lungs left in a single breath. The man held you close, his arm wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you to his chest. To any onlooker it could be perceived as an embrace, but in reality it was anything but. Your own dagger dropped from your grasp, clanging to the floor with an echo. 

“An eye for an eye will make us all blind, Princess,” the man’s voice dripped with venom. Looking down to where they were joined, the man pushed the dagger in your belly further until your flesh met the hilt eliciting a harsh gasp from you. 

Yanking the dagger harshly from your womb, the stranger merely walked down the corridor and disappeared within the shadows. 

Your hands quickly met with the gash, pushing hard to stem the bleeding. Your screams echoed down the endless corridors as you leaned against the wall to steady yourself as your head swam.

A gush of fluid fell to your feet from between your legs, cramps overtook your body causing screams of agony to echo in the corridor. You fell to your knees, blood pooling around you. Panic and pain filled your entire being, but your instinct to survive overtook all else. 

Dying here was not an option. 

With everything you had, you used the wall to pull yourself up. Your bare feet staggered with each step, a bloody trail following in your wake. Halfway down the eastern staircase as you met the landing, your legs gave out. Your arm caught onto the railing to stop you from continuing down. Your head rested against the wall, the cool stone a small comfort.

“Princess!” An elder maid shouted in terror as she and her two underlings ran to you. As she got closer she could see the sweat cascading from your forehead at the exertion, and the gray pallor of your skin. The deep red of your blood across your nightgown and the floor had her scrambling for guards and maesters. “Find Prince Aemond!” 

“My baby,” You murmured through gasps of breath and groans as the maids surrounded you to stem the bleeding. “My…” You blindly reached a hand out and the old maid grasped it firmly to let you know she was with you.

“Shh, save your strength, your Grace,” The elder maid brought a towel to your face, as a troop of maesters ran to you as fast as their old bones would carry them. "The guards are fetching the Prince presently, my Princess,"

A knight, you could not discern his face through your blurred gaze, carefully lifted you at the instruction of the eldest Maester and hurried to the Maesters’ wing, dozens of footsteps rushing behind.

“Aemond,” your eyes rolled as you looked up at the open night sky in the walkway that separated the healing rooms from the rest of the Keep. Aerraxys’ scorned cries were heard from the skies as if he could feel the pain of his rider, though he could not be seen. 

You blinked once, twice, and the darkness took hold. 

Parts II & III have been posted!

[mamaholligay]

Day One

So, the first full day in NYC was a sheer delight! It started out with the most amazing breakfast sandwich known to man. Now, if one does not eat pork, breakfast sandwiches are often not worth the pain and suffering attached to trying to find a meat product that goes into said breakfast sandwich that does not contain pig. I usually do not go there! This place had turkey ham and turkey bacon and never once said…. We don’t do pig…Clearly pig was not available anywhere on the entire menu. The whole thing was piping hot, melting cheese and totally delicious. We then took a beautiful walk across Central Park to arrive at the MET. This museum is so big, there is no way you could even begin to see everything. I think my favorite things were the rooms that they have set up all over that show what rooms would look like for a particular time period. The furniture, the walls, rugs and the whole bit. There were so many of them and it made history come alive. Doc has a museum game that was really fun. When you are looking at things in a museum, think about,

“What would I steal?”

“What is super ugly?”

“What is something that I learned?”

I came up with a new category called, “What would I steal for Doc?” 

So we got the point where we were all museumed out and Doc says, there is another place I want to take you, bu. t if you don’t like it, we can leave. So off we go, again walking as that is what we do. We go down this street and Doc stops and says, “Well, it says we are here. I was not sure what was happening, but we open a door and step into a little shop/room sort of situation. I about lost my mind! We were in the Frederic Malle perfume shop. Now bear in mind that I started to lose my cool. I was so excited. It was like a little cozy place with a couch and a desk with a couple of chairs. Roberto asked if he could help and I turned to Doc and just about screamed how excited I was! This is my favorite perfume house and I had no clue they had one in NYC. I got the full exciting experience, we bonded with Roberto and he brought me around to loving a perfume I never would have tried. We won’t talk about how much money I spent, but Roberto and I are besties for life! He is also shipping my perfume home, so we don’t have to deal with it on the rest of the trip. I am still telling Doc how much I loved the experience! 

After such a wonderful day, we went back and changed for dinner. I didn’t know where we were going, which was hilarious, since apparently I was the one that picked the restaurant many months ago. It was super delicious! We went to Momosan, which is a ramen place. This place is owned by Mori Moto, which if you don’t know, was on Iron Chef! The Chicken Ramen was super good and I found some Sake I actually liked! After dinner we killed some time, walking about the streets of NY. It is definitely an experience! Then it was time for the show. We went to Drunk Shakespeare. The show was so good and fun and crazy! They get one of the cast members drunk and then they do an abbreviated, often hilarious version of a Shakespeare play. They actually did Macbeth, which is my favorite Shakespeare play. It was audience participation and it was a super fun night! That wraps up our first full day. I can’t wait until tomorrow as I have no clue what we are doing!

[mildmayfoxe]

i would actually love a cast iron trivet of a pig that said chez moi tout est bon on it. you know what i mean? the kind of thing you’d find on the wall of a rustic farmhouse. i should make a print of pig chez moi tout est bon. i need to find a beautiful image of a pig though that pig is ugly

[impossiblesuitcase]

Tomorrow

Benoit Farms and Gardens was cold and windy, but if it weren’t for the gust rattling the timber beams of the ancient homestead, Kai would have never known. It was warm and peaceful with the three of them: himself and the soon-to-be Benoit-Kesleys.

Scarlet hummed away as she doused the dinner and dessert dishes in the soapy kitchen sink. Wolf regaled Kai with his adventures of chasing escaping pigs as he tackled the pots and pans. The dishwasher had broken after Wolf—attempting to pull out the top rack—underestimated his force and mistakenly swung his fist right into the heating element (“he still isn’t quite adept to his new bioengineered strength,” Scarlet had explained). They planned to enlist Cinder to fix it sometime during her stay, and until then, they mutually agreed to force Thorne and Jacin into dishwashing duty.

Like this, the two were perfectly in their element, calm and unflappable. Completely unlike the frustrated pair he had met when he’d arrived that afternoon, and with him, hundreds of paparazzi vultures. Scarlet’s course of yelling, Wolf keeping her from shoving her pitchfork into multiple eyes, reminded Kai—with a touch of fear—that she was the scary one in the relationship.

It was distressing to be the one to break their closely guarded serenity, even if he couldn’t control the press.

Although it wasn’t entirely him fracturing the peace. A good chunk of the journalists had been there to report on the ‘first Lunar-Earthen marriage since the Second Era’. Scarlet was clearly uncomfortable with this invasive, nascent fame, and from her lengthy ranting, was clearly hoping it would pass after the wedding.

“—And when I finally got her back in the pen, I realised I left the gate open,” Wolf continued.

“And the piglets escaped?” guessed Kai.

“The piglets escaped.”

Kai chuckled heartily hearing the genuine disappointment in Wolf’s voice. He was a far cry from the ferocious killer Kai had been afraid of on the Rampion. Whipped cream in the corners of his lips, wrapped in a bright red polka-dot apron, sulking over baby pigs, Kai wasn’t sure this man could kill a fly if he tried.

Kai’s hands were wrapped around a homely, slightly misshapen mug. The handle was a little wonky, the paint splotchy, yet upon seeing the sloppy inscription on the base, Scarlet, agedd 7, he treated it as the finest china. A long sip of the hot chocolate inside travelled to his belly and warmed his core. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so relaxed.

“It’s nice to have you here before everyone else,” said Wolf, scrubbing a cast iron pan.

“Well, I am the very best of the guests coming,” Kai teased.

Scarlet spun around and flicked water at him. He dodged with a laugh. “Wolf means that we’re happy to spend some time with you before the fanfare of our loud friends.”

Kai rested the mug on a coaster and held his hands up in surrender. “Sorry. You’re right—when was the last time it was just the three of us?”

A collective pause. Wolf even stopped attacking the pan.

Then, in unison, “Never.”

They all fell into laughter.

“Wow,” he drawled, “Does that mean I’m a bad friend? Or are you bad friends?”

“Maybe we’ve all been busy,” Scarlet chastised, dunking a plate in the water.

Kai sighed, running his finger around the rim of the mug. It was nice to be here in this little bubble of friendship and familiarity and comfort, yet he couldn’t help being reminded of how rare this was. Aside from a few brief catchups with Cress and Thorne, the occasional diplomatic dinner with Winter, and the Peace Ball last year with all of them, he’d barely seen his friends since the revolution.

He’d barely seen his girlfriend since the revolution.

Tomorrow. He would see her tomorrow.

“I hope we’re all less busy in the future,” he wondered idly. “We don’t get to do much together, do we?”

Wolf grunted in agreement. Scarlet said nothing.

The mood turned too sombre too fast.

“Well, it’s not like we can help it,” Kai amended quickly. “We all have different lives, different path–”

“No,” said Scarlet, back still turned. “No, we will see each other. We won’t grow apart.” She drew two wine glasses from the sink. It was precarious holding just the stems with slippery fingers, but she handled them with ease. “What’s the point of life if you never see your friends?”

What’s the point of life if you never see your friends?”

(What’s the point of life if you never see the love of your life?)

Tomorrow.

“You’re right.” Kai dragged a hand down his face. “Stars, I didn’t mean to be depressing. I think…the long distance is getting to me.”

“I admire you, Kai,” Wolf commented. “To be apart from the most important person to you for that long…I know I couldn’t handle it.”

“Everyone knows.” Scarlet nudged his side with her elbow. “You went more than a little crazy last time I was kidnapped.”

Redness crept up his ears, though he didn’t appear ashamed. “I couldn’t help it. Not when it’s you.”

She scoffed, but her smile was tender.

Kai’s heart warmed watching them. “Are you excited to be married?”

“Yes,” Wolf said immediately as Scarlet shrugged and said, “Sure.”

Wolf blinked.

Kai blinked. 

Enough silence passed that Scarlet finally glanced over her shoulder. With two sets of confused male eyes upon her, she jolted. “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Wolf crossed his arms, soap caught amongst the forest of hair. “What did you mean?”

“Well, of course I’m thrilled to be married to you, Ze’ev. I just don’t really think excited is the right word. Excited is like…something new. Something you don’t already have. You’re excited for the unknown.” She draped her kitchen towel over her shoulder and crossed the two steps to him, tucking her hands around his waist. His arms came around her instantly. “With you, I know exactly what I’m getting. It’s what I already have. I’m ecstatic, elated, emotional…all the words. But it’s not unknown.”

Wolf pulled her closer. “I knew what you meant,” he whispered, “I just wanted to hear you say it.”

When they kissed, Kai looked down at his drink.

Scarlet pulled away and pushed the steel scrubber back into his hand, winking. “Get back to work. You’re just acting offended so you can get out of chores.”

Wolf scowled. “I’ve been scrubbing for ten minutes and it’s not coming off!”

“Use those strong muscles of yours.”

Kai couldn’t help tuning out their back and forth as his mind focused on her words. It’s not unknown. I know exactly what I’m getting. It’s what I already have. He wished it were the same for him. Yet he and Cinder only barely knew what they had. They hadn’t been together enough to be together; to learn about each other as intimately as Scarlet and Wolf, even as Winter and Jacin or Cress and Thorne had. The ring in the inner pocket of his suitcase burnt a hole in his mind. Too weighty, too heavy a promise of the known when all they had was latent unknown—

“So why do you bring up marriage, Kai?” Scarlet asked, almost succeeding at casualness. “Been thinking about it yourself?”

Wait, had he been speaking out loud?

He seized up his now cool drink and finished it off in a single draught. The milk coated his throat uncomfortably. A cough. “Well, I mean, when a couple have been together for a few years it naturally comes to mind.”

“Get real,” Scarlet laughed. “You’ve been wanting to marry Cinder since the moment she tranquilised your wedding planner and kidnapped you.”

“...Maybe.”

“What’s wrong then?”

“Nothing! Nothing’s wrong between us. I-I love her; she loves me. We’re just…not ready to take that step yet.”

“Fair,” said Wolf, still scrubbing. Kai thought of offering to help, but they’d already turned him down when he’d insisted he clean after dinner, and he thought doing so now might hurt Wolf’s pride. Relinquishing the tool, Wolf turned to face him. “When do you think you’ll be ready?”

“I don’t know. We probably need to spend more time actually together to figure it out.”

“Time to figure out what? How you feel? If you’re right for each other?” Scarlet wiped over the last plate and pulled the plug. The sink gurgled loudly as water pooled down the drain.

He knitted his fingers together. “I already know how I feel. I know we’re right for each other.”

“That sounds like a man ready to propose.”

Kai’s gaze darted up to her, jaw slack.

She had a loving authority on her face. “Sooo, you’re ready. Is Cinder ready too?”

“I…I think maybe. But as you said: you and Wolf know. There are no unknowns between you. You’ve been together all this time to learn that. Cinder and I…”

“—Have talked every day over comms, have spent every possible moment in each other’s arms?” Wolf listed.

“Okay, when’s her birthday?” Scarlet probed.

“December 21st. But every year she forgets and still thinks it’s the fake birthday the cyborg surgeons gave her: November 29th. She goes around saying the wrong age for at least a month.”

“What’s her favorite colour?”

“Midnight blue.” (Because it made him look handsome, Cinder had bashfully admitted.)

“How many children does she want?”

Cheeks burning, he uttered, “Three. We both want three.”

Scarlet smiled smugly. “Hmm. Doesn’t sound like there’s much unknown.”

Before he even thought of a response, she pulled out the chair opposite him and sat, grasping his hands into hers. Wolf circled the table, laying a hand on his shoulder.

Eyes sparkling, Scarlet squeezed. “Kai. If you think you’re ready, then there’s no need to wait. All the things that are still unknown will just be…happy bonuses. And the bad unknowns will just make your relationship all the more stronger when you conquer them together. You don’t need to know it all yet.”

“And proposing is a commitment to each other,” Wolf added. “You’ll have time to learn the rest before you actually get married. Some things can wait.” A shrug. “Maybe I won’t finish that pan tonight, but I’m sure I will tomorrow.”

Kai looked up at him. “It’s bugging you that much?”

“I don’t understand,” he growled, “I’ve soaked it twice now.”

Kai disentangled his hands from Scarlet’s, digging them into his lap. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I am ready, but—how do I know if she is?”

“Well, you’ll be seeing her very soon. Try to get a sense for it,” she suggested.

“And if she is…propose the next time we see each other?”

“Psh. That could be months with how busy you two are.” A flick of the hand. “If she’s ready now, propose now.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Now? As in, here? As in: the next few days?”

“Sure.”

“Bu–no. I couldn’t. This is about you two. Your wedding. I can’t take that from you.”

“Honey,” Scarlet smiled up at her fiancé. “Would seeing our two friends finally get their happy ending be a nice wedding gift?”

“Sounds wonderful.”

She grinned. “Just do it, Kai. If it’s right, don’t wait when there’s no reason—oh, hang on. Unless you wanted to propose with a ring.”

Heart hammering, Kai glances down at his feet, hair covering his eyes. “I…actually brought the ring with me.”

“Ha! All this ‘I’m not ready,’ but ‘I’ll bring the ring with me’?’”

“Yeah, I know.” He took in a breath. “The only reason I’m delaying is because, well, I’m nervous!”

“So was I,” said Wolf warmly. “So nervous that she ended up having to propose for me.”

“It will be fine,” Scarlet assured, red hair flaming under the yellow ceiling light, as fiery as her effervescent constitution. “Don’t let happiness wait, Kai.”

Waiting for the antidote. Waiting to find Princess Selene. Waiting for Cinder to wake up in her hospital bed, bleeding and bruised but alive.

They don’t have to wait anymore.

His eyes welled up suddenly, too fast to rein in. He choked back a wet laugh. “Sorry”—a sniff— “I don’t know what came over me.”

Scarlet’s chair screeched against the tiles as she launched away, rounding the table and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. Bulky, comforting arms circled them both.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

Family. This was his family, as all his friends were, as Cinder was and always would be. When he had hesitantly informed Torin of his plans to propose, it had vaguely felt like what it would have been to tell his father.

Telling Scarlet sort of felt like telling his mother.

Collecting some of his emotions, he extricated himself. “Okay, but if I do propose here, don’t go acting like this wasn’t your plan.”

“Aw,” Wolf groaned. “I wanted to make you look bad.”

“I’ll buy you a new skillet.”

“You have my blessing.”

They all laughed and all smiled, and that was precisely when exhaustion started knocking on the door alerting Kai to the fact that he’d had a long day.

“You look exhausted. Off to bed,” Scarlet commanded, apt as ever. Kai went along willingly as she pushed him out of the kitchen.

He yawned, leaning against the banister of the stairs. “What did you put in that drink, Scar? Crushed up sleeping pills?”

She posed a finger over her lips. “Trade secret.”

With one last warm glance, Kai left his friends in the kitchen and headed up to the guest room, the final image of Wolf kissing Scarlet’s cheek lingering in the air. It would only be his for the night; Winter and Jacin would have it tomorrow, while he’d bunk out with the others in the Rampion. Maybe he and Cinder could even stay in the same room.

The first thing he did once inside was pull open his suitcase. He hadn’t touched it since arriving except to retrieve the small gift for his hosts, an old-fashioned analogue clock set inside a chicken figurine. It had seemed so perfectly them when he first saw it. He just hoped they wouldn’t netsearch the artist listed on the base, as he was sure they would keel over when they saw the 1,300 univ price tag.

Carefully, he reached into the inner pocket of his suitcase and procured the fated ring box. A moment of reflection, reverence even, then he opened it…

And there it was. A ruby ringed in immaculate diamonds. A band of carefully burnished gold. His mother’s ring. His grandmother’s ring, and his great-grandmother’s.

His wife’s ring.

It was not heavy or burning in his mind any longer. It was a token. A promise, one that filled him with greater certainty than he had yet felt. A certainty that had been birthed and reared and matured since that first look in a humid New Beijing market.

Tomorrow. He would see her tomorrow.

Notes

I have three fics I’ve been trying to finish for a year and then I finish this in two days. What is brain function.

So in my headcanon, Kai doesn’t really ‘plan’ to propose at the farm. He just feels like it’s right and so he does. So as to not take away from Scarlet and Wolf’s special day, he and Cinder keep the engagement a secret for a while. But a tumblr ask prompted me to think about if Scarlet and Wolf knew and approved, and thus this was born. Still not sure which explanation I prefer.

(btw just letting you know that if someone hasn't interacted with my fics for a while, I remove them from my list, so if you get removed and want to be re-addded, let me know!)

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