#steel market shape

[trendingreportz]

Steel Market - Forecast(2024 - 2030)

Steel Market - Overview

The Steel market is analyzed to be $1,746.35 billion in 2023 and is projected to reach $2,105 billion in 2030. The market is estimated to grow with a CAGR of 4.13% during 2024-2030. Steel is an alloy that is made up of iron ore or scrap steel and carbon. In general, steels have various unique properties including being non-corrosive, rust-resistant and heavier than other metals such as aluminum. Therefore, steel is extensively used in various end-use industry verticals, including the manufacturing various transportation and automobile components, medical equipment, metal surgical implants, structural components and more, which in turn is boosting its market growth. In recent years, the steel market has experienced fluctuations driven by several factors. One significant trend in the steel market is the impact of trade policies and tariffs. Trade tensions between major steel-producing nations, such as the United States, China, and the European Union, have led to shifts in supply chains and pricing dynamics. Tariffs imposed on steel imports have affected the competitiveness of domestic producers and influenced global trade patterns. Additionally, sustainability concerns and environmental regulations have influenced market dynamics. Increasing awareness of carbon emissions and the environmental footprint of steel production has led to a growing demand for greener steel products. This has prompted investments in cleaner production technologies such as electric arc furnaces and the development of recycled steel. Moreover, technological advancements and innovations in steel manufacturing processes have enhanced efficiency and product quality. As a result, the steel market is poised for sustained growth as global economic recovery accelerates, with innovations in technology and sustainability shaping future trends.

Steel Market Report Coverage

The report: “Steel Industry – Forecast (2024-2030)”, by IndustryARC covers an in-depth analysis of the following segments of the Steel Market Report. 

By Type: Carbon Steel, (Low Carbon Steel, Medium Carbon Steel, High Carbon Steel), Stainless Steel (Austenitic Stainless Steels, Ferritic Stainless Steels, Martensitic Stainless Steels, Precipitation Hardening Grade Stainless Steels, Duplex Stainless Steels), Alloy Steel (Chromium Molybdenum Steel, Nickel-Chromium-Molybdenum Steel, Chromium Vanadium Steel, HSLA -Nickel-Chromium-Molybdenum Steel), Tool Steel (Water-hardening tool steels, Shock-resisting tool steels, Cold-work tool steels, Hot-work steels, High-speed tool steels, Others), Others

By Form: Bar, Rod, Tube, Pipe, Plate, Sheet, Structural, Others

By Application: Transportation (Road, Bridges, Barriers, Rail, Tracks, Rail Cars), Construction (Cool Metal (infrared reflecting) Roofing, Purlins, Beams, Pipe, Recyclable steel framing (studs), Desks/Furniture), Packaging (Canes, Bottles, Others), Water Projects (Levees/Dams/Locks), Energy (Renewable, Nuclear, Bio-fuels, Fossil, Electric Grid), Others

By Industry: Construction (Steel Skeletons, Concrete Walls, Pillars, Nails, Bolts, Screws, Others), Machinery (Bulldozers, Backhoe Leaders, Pipelayers, Others), Automotive and Transportation (Exhaust, Trim/Decorative, Engine, Chassis, Fasteners, Tubing For Fuel Lines), Kitchenware and Domestic Appliances (Small Household Appliances, Black Home Appliances, White Home Appliances), Electrical and Electronics (Motor Mount Brackets, Adapter Plates, Electronic Frames and Chassis, Brackets, Others), Healthcare (Orthopaedic Implants, Artificial Heart Valves, Bone Fixation, Catheters, Others), Energy (Scrubbers, Heat Exchangers, Others)

By Region: North America, South America, Europe, Asia-Pacific and Rest of the World

Request Sample

Key Takeaways

•  The Asia-Pacific region, particularly China, has been a dominant force in the global steel market with a share of 63% in 2023, owing to China's rapid industrialization and urbanization have driven substantial demand for steel in the construction, infrastructure, and manufacturing sectors.

•  Government infrastructure spending, particularly in major economies, plays a significant role in driving steel demand. Large-scale infrastructure projects, such as bridges, railways, and urban development initiatives, can create substantial demand for steel products.

•  The automotive sector is a significant consumer of steel, particularly in the production of vehicles. Changes in consumer demand for automobiles, as well as shifts towards electric vehicles which may use different materials, can impact steel demand in this sector.

Steel Market Segment Analysis – By Type 

In terms of type, the Steel Market is segmented into carbon steel, stainless steel, alloy steel, tool steel and others. In 2023, the Stainless-steel segment generated the greatest revenue of $361.94 billion and is projected to reach a revenue of $482.28 billion by 2030. Owing to the various benefits posed by stainless steel such as corrosion resistance, high and low temperature resistance, the ease of fabrication, strength, aesthetic appeal is one of the key factors for its adoption among various end-use industries, which in turn is boosting its market growth. The stainless-steel segment can be further classified as Austenitic stainless steels, Ferritic stainless steels, Martensitic stainless steels, Precipitation hardening grade stainless steel and Duplex stainless steels. 

Inquiry Before Buying

Steel Market Segment Analysis – By Form 

By form, the steel market is segmented into bar, rod, tube, pipe, plate, sheet, structural and others. The bar segment accounted for the major market share in 2023, with a revenue of $554.58 billion, and is forecast to grow at a CAGR of 4.68% by 2030. The increasing demand for steel bar from various end-user industries such as building and construction, bridges, and many others, are driving the growth of the segment during the forecast period of 2024-2030.

Steel Market Segment Analysis – By Application 

Steel Market is segmented by its application that includes transportation, construction, packaging, water projects, energy and others. The energy segment held the dominant market share, 31% of the whole market, in 2023, and is expected to maintain its dominance by 2030 with a CAGR of 4.69%. One of the major factors for the segment growth is the increasing awareness and focus towards renewable energy sources. Steel plays a crucial role in producing and distributing energy as well as improving energy efficiency. Renewable energy is further classified as Wind Towers and Foundation, Wind Turbines and Solar Parabolic Mirror Supports & Collectors. 

Steel Market Segment Analysis – By Industry

The Steel finds its application across the industries such as construction, machinery, automotive and transportation, kitchenware and domestic appliance, electrical and electronics, healthcare, energy and others. Among them, the construction segment is the largest consumer of steel, as bearable structures can be manufactured easily at a low cost. The property of steel in its various forms and alloys makes it more flexible to cater the exclusive projects integrated with infrastructure. Moreover, the rapid industrialization and urbanization in various developing countries are fueling the segment growth in strengthening its dominant market position during the forecast period.

Steel Market Segment Analysis - By Geography/Country 

The report comprises of the region wise study of the global market including North America, South America, Europe, Asia-Pacific and Rest of the World. Above all, Asia-Pacific region held the biggest share in 2023, up to 63% of the whole steel market owing to the rapidly expanding defense, machinery, automotive, and shipbuilding industries in the countries such as India, China, South Korea, and Japan. Foreign direct investment in energy and infrastructure is likely to provide opportunities for the market vendors. Coupled with favorable government regulations, growing infrastructure and construction activities in developing economies of the Asia-Pacific region are boosting the demand for the market.

Schedule a Call

Steel Market - Drivers 

Growing Demand for Steel Across the Various Regions

Several factors have a significant impact on the overall development of the steel market. The major growth factor driving the Steel Market is the growing demand for steel across a variety of developing regions. For instance, Global crude steel production in January-November 2023 reached 1715.12 million metric tons, marking a marginal 0.5% year-on-year growth, per provisional data from the World Steel Association. November 2023 saw a production of 145.5 million metric tons, up by 3.3% from the previous year. China led the production with 952.14 million metric tons, followed by India and Japan, USA, Russia, South Korea, and Germany. 

Construction and Infrastructure Development:

Construction activities, including residential, commercial, and infrastructure projects such as roads, bridges, and railways, are major drivers of steel demand. Urbanization and industrialization also contribute to the growth of the construction sector, thereby increasing the demand for steel products. For instance, as per Green Finance & Development Center, China Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) Investment Report 2023, engagement totalled about USD88.3 billion, with USD44.6 billion from investment and USD43.7 billion from construction contracts. Also, The US Department of Transportation allocates $3.2 billion in extra funding, alongside $4.3 billion from the Bipartisan Infrastructure Law for 2023. The Budget prioritizes $4.5 billion for the Capital Investment Grant program, aiming to bolster transit infrastructure for economic growth. As a result, the steel market is anticipated to thrive, propelled by heightened construction activities and the need for durable materials, reflecting a promising outlook for the industry.

Steel Market -Challenges

Environmental Regulations and Sustainability

The steel industry is facing mounting pressure to tackle environmental issues by cutting carbon emissions and enhancing sustainability efforts. Meeting stringent environmental regulations demands substantial investments in technology and infrastructure, presenting a formidable challenge for many companies. Despite the financial hurdles, embracing these changes can pave the way for a more sustainable and eco-friendly future for the industry.

Buy Now

Steel Market - Competitive Landscape

The companies referred in the study include Baosteel Co., Ltd., Posco Holding Inc, Nippon Steel Corporation, JFE Holdings, Tata Steel Limited, United States Steel Corporation, Anshan Iron and Steel Group Corporation, Hyundai Steel Co., Ltd., ThyssenKrupp AG, ArcelorMittal S.A., among others. Technology launches, acquisitions, and R&D activities are key strategies adopted by the key players in the Steel Market. 

Steel Market - Recent Developments

November 2022, Tata Steel launched the fourth edition of MaterialNEXT, focusing on 'Materials to Wonder.' This open innovation event aims to gather ideas on emerging materials and their applications. The program spans five months across Idea Selection, Development, and Evaluation stages, fostering collaboration among scientists, researchers, and startups.

May 2022, Kobe Steel introduced "Kobenable Steel," Japan's pioneering low CO2 blast furnace steel, aiming to curtail emissions during ironmaking. Utilizing innovative CO2 Reduction Solution technology, it plans to roll out the product this fiscal year, marking a milestone in sustainable steel production.

In June 2023, Nippon Steel introduces ZEXEED™ Checkered Sheet, a new addition to its high corrosion resistant coated steel series

[grabby-smitten]

Concrete Jungle: King of the beasts

Summary: Buying a hybrid was not what you had in mind when you asked for independence. Sylus didn’t like humans but his owner was the exception.

Subjects: Albino lion Hybrid!Sylus x F!Reader

Word count: 4.1k+

Content Warnings: Hybrid AU, smut, owner reader, kissing, cunnilingus, P in V, breeding, cnc if u squint really hard, biting, textured tongue. Use of words like predator/prey, cunt, pussy, kitten. Not edited and no beta.

A.N: I learned that big cats can’t purr and I was so disappointed. Oh, well….ah! I might do one for each li. k bye 💋

“Are you sure, I need one?” You’ve asked your parents that question for the umpteenth time.

“Yes, a hybrid is a good caretaker and it would make us feel better knowing one is protecting you.” Your father answered with a tired smile, understanding your uneasiness but they weren’t going to change their mind.

Moving out and finally becoming independent was just one step away from happening. Your parents were against it at first. Coming from money means someone will always be after your trail, danger and they had overprotected you, their only daughter since… well, even before you were born. They weren’t able to have natural children so you were conceived through artificial methods. Which, according to your parents, was a whole ordeal and suffering. Details that you rather not know.

It was time, though, to deep your toes into a world of your own. You wanted freedom for once. No dozens of bodyguards, no tracking devices and no fear of the unknown.

The part of convincing your parents was hard. No, after no, after no. Until, the head of security, taking pity on you, suggested buying a hybrid for you. Not just any hybrid; one specially made to protect and serve.

Now it was your turn to profoundly refuse. Everyone had one and those who didn’t, desired one… like some kind of accessory. It sickened you and besides, you didn’t want another responsibility. You wanted your own life! Not taking care of some… dog? Cat? Fish?

In the end, you had no other choice but to agree and here you were, in some facility. Breeding facility? Training? You didn’t care enough to pay attention, honestly.

Walking behind your parents in an all-white hall, smelling like antiseptic and gagging at the chemical sensation in your throat, you started to notice how the white walls began to turn into cages. Placards hung in the walls near the tinted glass and steel bars of the cages with descriptions of the… hybrids?

Looking up from the labels, you finally realized you no longer were alone. Each cell was occupied by humanoid-shaped shadows. The tint of the reinforced glass obstructed your vision but it was clear they were there.

So lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize a couple of strangers had joined your family. Paying a bit more attention to their chatter, you concluded they were doctors or scientists from this facility. They were explaining something about their products and that it was the best the market could offer. You frowned at their words. It was like you were buying a car… they even explained the insurance policy.

“And this specimen, right here, is our finest hybrid!” One of the men talking to your parents loudly explained.

You stepped closer to the placard and read the few words it contained. ‘Albino Lion Hybrid (Panthera leo Hybrid, large cat family Felidae). Apex predator (no natural enemy known). Renowned king of the beasts. More active at night. Preferable habitats: grassland, dense scrub, savanna, and open woodland. Nomadic male.’

Your eyes widened once your brain processed the information. This was no guard dog or house cat. Before you could utter a complaint about how obnoxious this all was, the tinted glass cleared and you were looking straight into a pair of scarlet eyes.

Sylus almost laughed at the face of the female standing outside his cell. The little mouse seemed in shock to see him there. What was she expecting? Where else would he be? If not caged and on display here— absurd, he thought. All humans that came here, came for one thing and one thing only; to purchase a wild species, a unique breed to flaunt to their peers. Sylus continuously thought about how weird these humans behaved in society. Their hierarchy dynamics were messed up and he despised that.

You felt his eyes mocking you, such deep red and the only thing you could feel was irritation. Frowning, you turned your head and left him. See how he likes grouching on his own.

Once you were a few steps away, the scientists or doctors stared at the red-eyed big cat hybrid with wonder and… respect? This place was bonkers, you thought to yourself.

“So this is the one?” Your mother asked and marveled at the sight of the lion hybrid. White-silver hair, large, powerful presence, and sharp features.

“Yes, ma’am. Our best subject. Well trained in all the aspects you requested and fairly knowledgeable which is hard to come by with these beats.”

Hearing all that gave you stomach reflux, the acidity burning your esophagus. Your dam was about to break and all your pent-up feelings would end up costing you your freedom if it wasn’t for the red-eyed hybrid. He knocked on the glass and you jumped, startled. You were surprised, he even beckoned you with a finger and again, surprised now with yourself, you automatically obeyed.

It was like a trance. A hypnotic daze of sorts. Both met face to face once again, only separated by the reinforced glass. For a moment you were distracted, the outburst you were about to have laid dormant in the back of your head.

What is this…? Sylus couldn’t help but feel a sense of familiarity. That’s why he was so close to the glass earlier too. He couldn’t see the other side a while ago but something was pulling him there. The whole day he felt restless and on guard as if something resonated within him.

Could this be—

“Ah! Marvelous! Look! They are already interested in each other! Sylus is not showing any signs of hostility or repulsion…” a different scientist exclaimed with eagerness, interrupting whatever connection you had with Sylus at that moment.

Not many words were needed to convince your parents after that show you and Sylus put up. Papers were signed, money transferred and a very confused Sylus was sedated and prepared for shipment.

The big city. Polluted air, noisy streets twenty-four hours a day, and hybrids everywhere. Most people carried one; a human with some animal characteristics, and now you were one of them too. Sylus was scheduled to arrive in a few minutes. All the things you would need to care for him were already in your apartment and even his paperwork. Name, birth, permits and you; listed as his owner.

The melodic tune of your ring bell announced the dreaded moment. You knew Sylus would be escorted here and that most of the traveling time he would have been sedated, but still the long distance between your new home and the facility he was kept in was almost six hours away. You feared a big grumpy cat.

Oh boy… grumpy was an understatement. He didn’t look happy. The moment he stepped foot in and all the straps holding him were taken off, he waited for the delivery people to disappear and he pounced. Surprisingly not on you. He went through all your stuff. According to the guide you received he was scenting. He went through your whole house; rubbing, scratching and overall making a mess.

“Stop! Hey, hmm… Sylus? You don’t have to scent my clothes.” You tried talking to him but he was not interested in your opinion, apparently. He just glanced at you and kept doing whatever he was doing before, like you were the one, not understanding. You had to snatch your underwear from his closed fist in a panic.

He went nonverbal for a week. A week! You were going insane. Yes, he obeyed. Yes, he was extremely independent and didn’t cause any more commotion besides the panty situation on the first day. But God… he was extremely quiet. It wasn’t until you commanded him to that you realized you should have read the manual until the last page; not only the summary.

“Sylus! Say something!” You demanded; going insane was not in your plans for the foreseeable future. They never told you he was mute or anything of that nature.

“Is there anything you need from me, my lady?” His deep and slow voice had your heart leaping out from your chest.

You just stood there, gaping and looking at him like you couldn’t believe he was able to make a sound. Yeah, not even his steps produced sounds. Sylus examined his human with a gleam of humor in his sapphire eyes. This face was a common one for her and he found it… almost endearing. It reminded him of the first time you two met.

“You can talk…” you whispered low and saw how his fluffy round, and white ears twitched. “You can talk!” Again, you exclaimed, pointing a finger at him in disbelief. “Why haven’t you said anything before?!”

“I wasn’t allowed to,” he calmly explained. That mischievous twinkle in his eyes never left, “my owner never requested me to do so until now.”

And that’s how you spend almost three days reading the darn manuals with a now very talkative feline.

You found that Sylus was more than just a pet. He could cook, clean and even force you to exercise which ended up backfiring. You couldn’t keep up with his supposedly healthy routine. A healthy lifestyle means a happy owner, and you would curse under your breath every time he repeated it.

In general, you were happy, he seemed happy and living with him was easier than you thought. Quickly, you two began to build a bond and it was a matter of time before he began to realize why it had been so easy to adapt to this human. His human which is how he referred to you.

Following the manual, you always made sure to have everything Sylus would need. Even his heats. At first, you tried to get him a heat partner and it was a mess. More like you were a mess. Even Sylus was surprised at how you ended up kicking out the poor rental gazelle hybrid in less than five minutes. You didn’t understand what took over you to be so… overprotective.

Oh, but Sylus was not complaining. Watching you almost declare war in his name gave him a deep satisfaction. So much so that he accepted to take suppressants for the time being.

After that incident, things began to change drastically. Sylus in return became a bit more aggressive towards any living creature that was in less than a mile radius of you. Growling, pushing, and even wrapping you with his tail and pulling you towards his body anytime he felt you were in danger. Yeah, you were in so much danger from the tube man… that air dancing balloon from the car wash a couple of blocks away.

“It can be that bad…” you took hold of his arm around your waist in a reassuring manner.

He’s been walking with you in his hold since you crossed paths with the inflatable dancing man.

“It has erratic movements. You never know what he might do next.”

Yeah, it was a recurring situation.

Yeah, he was prepared for everything and anything. Well, except one morning when his nose woke him up.

A sweet intoxicating scent traveled through his nostrils and shook him awake. He felt his mouth water, his canines aching, and his eyes turning into thin lines. The predator in him had been disturbed and its awakening meant trouble.

In all his years in captivity, he had never felt such hunger. Something was clawing in his chest, desperate to come out, each intake of air was pulling his sanity deeper and deeper while the monster surfaced.

Like any good hunter, he let his nose guide him through the house. Following such an intoxicating aroma took him to your door. There he stood—elaborated breathing, sharp fingers encrusted on his palms searching for restrain. You were inside; sleeping soundly in the early hours of the morning. He could hear your soft breathing mixing with his wildly beating heart. Knowing you weren’t aware of the predator outside your door sent a jolt of excitement through his body. Easy prey.

Was it you? Were you the one producing such… inebriant aroma? Why?

He took the handle with a death grip, his rational side fighting against instinct. He felt the urge to hunt, pursue, chase… this… this aroma and make it his own. With an internal battle raging inside him, Sylus felt the door weighed heavy on his palm, the handle burned, but he still stepped in.

His eyes adjusted to the darkness in the room, it made no difference to him that you slept in complete darkness; his ruby-red eyes could see just fine. Then, his gaze focused on your sleeping form, little movement from your steady breathing and you had no idea that a hungry predator stood at the foot of your bed.

But Sylus didn’t move, didn’t pounce on you like he wanted. Torn between instinct and duty, he was frozen in place, sweating and overwhelmed with indecision. Your scent was clouding his every sense, making it even more difficult to do the right thing. It was like time had stopped and the only thing on his mind was the palpitations in his groin for even letting his skin touch the hair surrounding you.

What was the right thing? He asked himself. Neck—cracking as his body suddenly shuddered in pain, Sylus was holding himself back by a fine thread.

He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. You were not like his kind who would accept mating just because of a sudden heat. You were human and he had that fact ingrained into his mind. With a whimper of pain and trepidation, Sylus walked over to the side of your bed; every step was excruciating for the hybrid. Once he reached the edge, he did like every other night shared with you. Sylus, silently whining, laid beside you and wrapped his arms tightly, but this time he kept a generous distance between his hips and your back.

He was not a mindless beast. Not to you.

“Sylus… I can’t breathe…” you don’t know when, you don’t know how, but Sylus always ended up sleeping on top of you like a weighted blanket. “Sylus!”

“You don’t wanna know what I did to the last person who woke me up.” Each word came with a little slur at the end, he was barely waking up. No a second goes by and you felt his spiked tongue grooming the nape of your neck and soft growls shaking your whole body.

“Someone’s happy today, hmmm?” You asked in a short breath, reaching for his round and fluffy ear. As you scratched, you heard the deep grumbles of satisfaction increasing.

“Smells good…”

You felt him sniffing all over your chest, deeply inhaling, moving his head downwards. Sylus pulled your covers in a hasty manner and kept descending. Your eyes widened as you realized where he was going and your feet quickly stopped him; placing them on his shoulder and chest.

“Sy-Sylus! S-stop!” Your hands joined your legs and feet, placing your palms on his mouth and the rest of his face. “What do you—“

You stopped mid question as you felt a bit of moisture in between your legs. In a panic, your mind counted the weeks since you moved in and you have forgotten to make an appointment for your birth control replacement… which meant you must be ovulating. How could you forget? It’s been weeks! With everything happening after moving, getting Sylus and adapting to the new city. You had completely forgotten…

A muffled sound came from behind your palm and then a rough tongue pushed against your skin. You slowly retracted your arm, looking at him with apologetic eyes. It was your fault, after all.

“I was saying that you seem to be in need of assistance,” he uttered, arching an eyebrow at your saddened face.

His heavy body was pressing against the sole of your feet, your legs kept him at bay and it surprised you how… physically insistent he was being.

“What do you mean?” You quickly replied, feigning ignorance and he seemed to know your every trick because his first reaction was to give you one of those salacious smiles of his.

“You can’t exactly lie to my nose, kitten.” He almost growled every word, sending shivers through your body. “You’re fertile.”

Before you could even utter a word to contradict his truth, his hands brushed the back of your raised legs for then his fingers gently tapped your skin. You let out a squeak of surprise and swiftly moved your legs, thus giving him an opportunity to nestle in between your thighs.

“If you’re making fun of me, it’s not funny,” you rebuked, but even as you said that the pressure and sudden ache in your lower regions began to increase with the proximity and weight of Sylus.

“I’m not.” He chuckled and it reverberated down your tummy, sending deep palpitations through your core, “you didn’t read the whole manual yet, now did you?” His finger gently tugged your chin, making you stare right into his crimson orbs.

“No…” you sheepishly mumbled, embarrassed of being found again and your lack of knowledge about some stuff still in the encyclopedia-like book you were given.

“Give me the order and I will deliver, Kitten.” He whispered, eyes calling for your surrender. Sylus was pushing the right buttons by being so close, touching you, and having you cornered right where he wanted you.

“You mean…” voicing your hesitation didn’t deter him from destroying your inhibitions, brick by brick. His eyes were hypnotizing, he would give you anything you wanted and you knew you would be safe, right?

He had you caged between his body and the bed, your mind going a mile per second and your heart racing just as fast. No, he wasn’t moving an inch more and you knew he wouldn’t unless you said so.

“Okay…” you sighed finally removing a burden from your shoulders, “h-help me.” You wanted him to alleviate your aching.

“As you wish, Kitten.”

Not soon had those words left his lips, he was on you. You felt the heaviness of the impact of his lips on you. He had seemed calm while talking but his actions spoke differently. Sylus’ kiss was demanding, fiery even. His tongue took no time to slip in between your abused lips, delivering tentative licks to yours; as if tasting and enjoying you.

He kept his low throaty snarls flowing over your body, crushing you against the sheets. You could taste him too, wild, intense, so Sylus. Two bodies lay in the bed, limbs intertwined. Sylus hands traveled up your body, fingers gripping at anything he could find, your moans being greedily swallowed.

His tail kept a steady thumping behind him, lulling you deeper into his embrace. You would let him do anything, be anything if it meant this fire ignited in your chest would never cease to exist.

Sylus grasped the back of your head, fisting strands of your hair for him to pull back and expose your neck to his aching teeth. He felt euphoria ran through his veins as soon as his pearl whites connected with your tender skin. A growl and the stinging stab on your neck made you gasp, hands gripping his collar to bring him even closer as if that was possible.

In a hurry, his other hand began to tear away your pajamas as his teeth continued to gnaw almost painfully at your throat.

In a blink of an eye, you were lifted and bent. Your face harshly met the warmth of pillows. Gone were your clothes. In what moment exactly? You don’t recall and you didn’t really care at that moment.

“I knew it– fuck– the moment I saw you, I knew it.” Sylus rasped out, breath suddenly hitting your nude backside. “This was mine before you even knew it.”

He suddenly lifted your hips, exposing your dripping core to his crimson gaze. You whimpered as the cold hair hit you, hands gripping the bedsheets, and that’s all you could see. Your own fist and abundant white.

“Sy-Sylus!” You shrieked.

Your exposed pussy was invaded by his mouth, and a low vibrating sound joined. His bumpy tongue lapped eagerly, the texture making you mewl and tremble as you unconsciously tried to pull away. Now the chuffing sound changed to a growl of displeasure, his hands quickly moved to your lower tummy and pressed you back against his awaiting lips.

A mess, a wet and sloppy mess. That’s what Sylus was, still holding your body against his face. He couldn’t care less about anything other than your flavor and sounds overtaking his entire being. He slurped, nipped and spit back in just to repeat it all over again.

It took no time to have you trashing and shaking on his grip, cuming on his face, the chuffing sounds intensifying with your moaning.

Skin on skin, no clothes separating him from you, you didn’t register when he freed his body of them. Too lost to care, too much at once to have a sense of anything other than Sylus.

“You take me so well… My kitten—made for me…” he growled as he slipped every inch of him. Your warm walls protested at the intrusion as he mounted you.

Pinning you down, chest pressed against your back and your face shoved into your drool-stained pillows.

“If you keep struggling, kitten… I– fuck, fuck– you’re making it really hard to hold back” he groaned as his eyes zoomed in on your head trashing and shaking. The predator in him just looming around the corner, his female ready for the taking.

“It’s too big!” Your scream was muffled by the pillow. As your wailing reached his ears, his cock throbbed and released a few ropes of white.

“You’re being so good, kitten. Just a… bit longer…” Sylus sighed with pleasure as the creaminess made it easier to thrust into you. Incessantly, hitting that spongy spot, making you cry out as you felt more burning cum filling you up. Both breathless, both panting and an arrange of noises filled the room.

“I feel so full! Sylus! I can’t!” Tears streamed down your face at how bloated you felt, but he kept pushing and bursting inside you. One after the other; face down you had no other option but to take it.

“Not full enough— you need more…” hips slamming into you, the squelching sound of your insides consuming the silence— him bottoming out again and again. “My cunt… will only have my cubs…”

You’re not sure how long it was, you were in and out. Lost a daze, being shoved, pressed and pounded mercilessly… Sylus voice swirled through your mushy brain— satisfaction, and ecstasy running wild through both of your bodies.

Blinking once, twice. You felt heavy and your foggy vision wasn’t helping. You still felt the aftermath of it all. Legs sporadically spamming, lower tummy so heavy and sore.

“You… came so much…” you whispered in between breaths. His cum was dripping from your tender hole, rapidly pooling on the bed. “Why?”

He shrugged, as he caressed your cheek.

“A lion’s thing,” he mumbled softly, pulling you closer and gently holding you.

The rest of the day you were spent. Too exhausted to do anything else. Sylus bathed you, changed the bedding, brought you drinks and food, and gave you the darn manual to finish it for once.

“Sylus!” You slapped his naked chest with indignation. “Here,” you pointed to an article you highlighted, “it says that lion hybrids can copulate for two to three days? Two hundred times in succession? Are you insane?” That explains a lot.

“I am just waiting for you to rest, humans are more delicate than I thought. We’re not moving from this room.” He deadpanned.

Your expression fell as his eyes seemed to show how serious he was being.

“I read that lionesses bite the male’s ballsack when they are upset or something,” you grinned wickedly. “I will do that if you don’t behave!”

“I wouldn’t oppose, sweetie.” He goaded. Your smile slowly faded as your threat was not working as planned. “So… I see you are feeling more… energetic.”

You threw a pillow at him before he pounced on you.

Ah, yes… a gentle protector a trusted guardian, but a beast on the sheets.

[tommyxvx]

Kitchen in Denver

[baddywronglegs]

England doesn’t have a North-South divide. But if it did have one, Cornwall would be in the North.

Now I’m not saying there isn’t a big geographical divide between like, Manchester and Canterbury, or that the country’s a homogeneous patchwork, what I’m saying is this divide isn’t north-south and thinking about it as such masks a lot of things.

Oh, and I am, for necessity of discussing this divide, going to be ignoring the Midlands. I hope you forgive me ignoring the deep cultural ties between Birmingham and Rutland.

Map Men made a video about the North-South divide in England (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ENeCYwms-Cc&ab_channel=JayForeman), which focused on the line determined by Danny Dorling in 2008.

… Which isn’t a north-south divide. It’s a northwest-southeast divide, going up at more than 45 degrees – it’s more an east-west divide than it is a north-south. It also includes Wales in “the North” but we’ll get to that.

But it was a north-south divide he set out to find, so a north-south divide he sort of drew, excluding exclaves and enclaves where the metrics he was looking at would make that not a north-south divide.

Notably, several would seem to put the west country peninsula in “the North”… So what’s up with that?

(Dorling's full paper is here, and I recommend looking through the whole thing to see how he arrived at the divide he eventually concluded: https://www.dannydorling.org/wp-content/files/dannydorling_publication_id2938.pdf)

Anyway. This is what’s up with that:

This is a geological map of Great Britain (and the Isle of Man, which isn’t actually part of the UK or any of its constituent countries but I guess it’s here anyway.)

Here again, in the boundary between Jurassic and Triassic geology, is that diagonal line from the Humber to the Severn, but continuing past both. For convenience, here are those two lines superimposed on one another.

With Danny Dorling’s line (frequently following county boundaries or other administrative boundaries) in blue, and the geological divide in red.

One line was drawn in 2008, the other has existed over 200 million years.

This isn’t a coincidence – it’s the reason for the divide.

What made “the North” is the industrial revolution. And one thing that drove the industrial revolution was the mines: coal, iron, silver, tin, the rocks beneath our feet and the people who dreamed they were worth more than the people they sent into the dark to bring it into the light.

Towns grew around mines, from Walker to South Crofty, and more than just the mines defining them, it was the mines closing that would cement the divide.

“Byker Hill and Walker Shore, collier lads forever more”

“Cornish lads are fishermen and Cornish lads are miners too”

- Two folk songs about regional identity’s roots in its industry, from opposite ends of this dividing line

In the West Midlands, the Black Country didn’t earn that name with caviar; it, like Manchester and Leeds, reinvented itself when the industry collapsed: cities built in the brick ruins of the temples built to the exploitation of the workers, blackened by the smokes of the cremation of its labour industry. When the light catches the steel and glass just right, you can still see the ghosts.

Even the country life outside the cities is shaped by this geology: the terrain north-west of this line doesn’t lend itself to large, flat expanses of land for arable farming, and the divide is visible again when looking at agriculture:

With the majority of land south of the Jurassic-Triassic line being arable, mixed and market gardening, with a fair amount of cattle in the Cotswolds and Chilterns and along the north side of the Thames, and the majority north-west of it being cattle and sheep – which are almost absent from the south side of the divide with the exception of the Isle of Wight and therefore, ironically, Cowes.

Not all farming is the same, the yearly flow of labour and of marketable goods between livestock and arable having little in common beyond being intensive work out-of-doors and taking huge amounts of land to accomplish.

But one thing that also goes hand in hand with this is that sheep aren’t mostly farmed for their meat but for their wool, and what drove industrialisation in the Pennines was the steam-loom: the mechanisation and mass-production of wool.

(Incidentally, on this map arable farming and market gardening also correlate with several types of English traditional dance: Molly, Border an East Midlands and East Riding plough dances, which began as a way for seasonal farmhands to make ends meet by busking with menaces in the winter off-season, but that’s for a later Morris ramble).

But hang on, that puts Hull on the same side of the divide as Kent, not, for example, Liverpool. So what gives there?

The East Riding isn’t built on mining - a kid with a bucket and spade could find the water table in most of the county.

Hull, and other ports of Yorkshire with it, was built on whaling – and not many industries have collapsed harder than whaling. For once, the geography of the land has little impact on this, but the geography of the sea does:

Between England and the European continent is a shallower stretch of sea called Dogger Bank – named for the Dutch cod-fishing boats known as Doggers which fished on it. But shallow water isn’t great for whales. So where is there water good for whales?

Well, whalers from Great Britain would venture as far as the Antarctic ocean in search of whales, and often hunted off Greenland – but there was water closer to home where whales did and still do frequent:

(There is still whaling in the North Sea. Around 500 minke whales are killed by Norwegian whalers each year “in objection to” the global ban on commercial whaling.)

Outside of this, there’s also a divide between port cities dealing primarily in cargo or primarily in passengers, something which is somewhat evening out by one means or another, but here’s a current map of UK passenger ports and their passenger numbers:

Or at least circles sized to correspond to their passenger numbers - source with stats: https://www.gov.uk/government/statistics/sea-passenger-statistics-all-routes-2021/sea-passenger-statistics-all-routes-2021

Compare this with a map of cargo ports by load:

Source with numbers: https://safety4sea.com/uk-ports-record-steady-performance-during-2018/

Generally showing passenger numbers getting lower the further you get from Dover, but not the same correlation with cargo (Plymouth and Holyhead both bucking this trend at a glance).

So, if not “The North” and “The South”, what name does make sense for this divide?

I propose “the South” be known as Lloegyr.

These names still exist: Domnonea still exists in Brittany both as a name for that same region from which Brittonic settlers came to Brittany and an area of Brittany named for them, and in Welsh, yr Alban is Scotland, Cymru is Wales and Lloegr is England.

Wales isn’t part of “the North”. “The North” is part of Wales.

[m3dieval]

If one was looking for armor, not just for the look, but for jousting and fighting. How would someone go around and do that? You seem to be more knowledgeable than most about these things and I’m lost on what to get. I’ve foolishly gotten pieces that were really for decoration rather than practicality.

This is going to depend on what sports/activities you plan in doing with your suit. Buhurt and balsa jousting for example will have different requirements. But the main things to look for are: material and fit.

Spring steel (properly tempered) tends to be the gold standard for combat sports. But mild steel (for more historical) and titanium are also used. Some groups/leagues have specifics on minimum thicknesses of material based on what it is and where it's protecting.

Stainless steel is generally not recommended if you plan on doing anything with metal weapons, but I have seen it used in some older jousting suits.

Chainmail is the one easy answer I have: if you want it to hold up to any of the armoured combat sports you need riveted mail. No butted mail!

For buhurt armour, which has a reputation of being made of good material but having a questionable fit, Buhurt Tech and Medieval Extreme are the shops that come to mind. One of the reasons I think buhurt is popular, is because they've made armour relatively affordable. You can get a full suit for as little as $3000 USD at Medieval Extreme and it will hold up to buhurt hits. If buhurt is popular in your area, you might also be able to buy some secondhand pieces.

Buhurt style suits are generally teased by the historical community for the fit. They're made to be more heavily padded, so they usually fit a little too big. They're made to be easier to fit, so often there is basically no shape at the waist. And there are other sport-specific adaptations that aren't based on history. But that's okay, most people in buhurt aren't trying to pass themselves off as reenactors. When looking at armour it is helpful to be able to spot the difference (look at the fit and proportions):

For historical armour used in jousting, harness fencing, and reenactment battles: either find a reputable armourer or buy a secondhand suit. Finding an armourer can be challenging. If you're part of a group (jousting, medieval society, etc), ask around about where people got their stuff. The United League of Armourers on facebook might be able to help you locate someone (even just reading the discussions there can be educational).

Sometimes there's a decent local armourer who you doesn't have an online presence (usually they are found though said group). This unknown hobbyist armourer is going to be significantly more affordable than a well established armourer who's getting international clients (and their waitlist should be a lot shorter) but there is a bit of a gamble on quality. If you find one, make sure you see what they've already made first.

Armourers whose work I've seen in person and can vouch for the quality (just looking at their portfolios should give you an idea of what quality looks like):

Jeffrey Wasson:

Eric Dubé:

TBH I usually forget to ask who made someone suit 😅 But if you're on the market for armour it's a good habit to get into asking that.

My helmet is made by Jeffery Hedgecock (he makes the armour at Historic Enterprises). My suit is made by Marc Hamel (he doesn't take online commissions). These were both bought secondhand from a jouster I met when I was working as ground crew years ago (it was over $600 CAN just to get it shipped from Quebec to Alberta).

My gauntlets are the worst part of my suit, they're these hourglass ones from Armstreet. They don't fit will enough for jousting, but they have protected my hands for sparring with synthetic swords. I am looking to replace them soon.

Armstreet is hit or miss. Definitely do your own research before you go browsing there.

The secret third option is to do a massive amount of research, get some mild steel and tools, then make your own armour. I'd start with watching videos about this (I recommend Greenleaf Workshop). Some armourers also sell classes, like Eric Dubé.

And we haven't even gotten around to discussing arming garments! We'll save that for another post.

Long story short: I probably can't make better recommendations than whatever group you join to participate in the activity you are requiring armour for (there are many types of jousting, there are many types of foot combat). But hopefully these resources give you somewhere to start looking.

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

FORD MUSTANG BOSS 302

BOSS-A-NOVA!

They called it The Boss and for two short years it ruled the muscle car scene in the US, establishing itself as one of the greatest road and race cars of the era. Now, it’s one of the most collectible.

In 1960s US street lingo, if something was ‘boss’ it was cool, tough, the best. And the 1969 Boss 302 Mustang wore its badge with pride. It launched just four and a half years after the first Mustang was revealed to critical acclaim and record sales. Yearly updates to keep Mustang fresh in the face of tough new challengers from General Motors and Chrysler (particularly the Camaro) resulted in the once lean and pretty ’Stang muscling up, both in body shape and under-bonnet brawn, and the 1969-70 Boss models were the zenith of Mustang styling.

Thereafter, Mustangs became increasingly bloated and anaemic as the 1970s fuel crisis and stricter pollution laws cut horsepower and stylists lost their way; the rippling flanks and thrusting nose of the late 60s/early 70s cars gave way to boxy, bland designs. That early look would not be recaptured until 2005, when new Mustangs were given retro styling.

The Boss 302 was launched at the same time as its big-block brother, the Boss 429. Both were positioned as competition specials; Ford wanted to homologate its 302-cuber for Trans-Am and the 429ci monster for NASCAR. In fact, Ford went wild with engines between 1969-70, offering nine V8s – the ‘economy’ 302, 351 Windsor, 351 Cleveland, 390, 428 Cobra Jet, 428 Super Cobra Jet, 429 ‘wedge’, Boss 302 and Boss 429.

For the Boss 302, Ford’s high-compression 302ci small-block V8 was beefed up with four-bolt main bearing caps and redesigned ‘Cleveland’ cylinder heads with bigger inlet and exhaust valves, and ports that allowed the engine to breathe more efficiently.

These ‘semi-hemi’ heads were based on the Ford 427ci racing engine’s combustion chambers, and a balanced forged steel crankshaft and forged steel conrods allowed the engine to handle high rpms for sustained periods. A single 780cfm four-barrel Holley carburettor sat atop a high-rise aluminium inlet manifold, while a dual-point distributor, high-pressure oil pump, windage tray and screw-in welch plugs were further indications of its competition intent.

A rev limiter was fitted, progressively cutting spark from 5800rpm to 6150, but it was easily bypassed and the Boss 302 could reportedly keep making power up to 8000rpm with minor mods. In the muscle car marketing war, Ford claimed a peak horsepower figure of 290bhp at 5800rpm (the same as the Camaro Z/28), but that was extremely conservative.

Two four-speed manual Top Loader transmissions were available: a wide-ratio ’box with Hurst shifter more suited to street and strip use, and a close-ratio unit for racing. Adding to the race or road options list were four diffs: the stock 3.5:1 nine-inch, Traction-Lok 3.5:1 and 3.91:1 and the No-Spin 4.30:1 built by Detroit Automotive. Axles and diff centres were also strengthened to take the loads.

Suspension was also race-inspired with heavy-duty springs, shocks and sway bar up front, and Hotchkiss-style rear suspension with heavy-duty leaf springs, sway bar and staggered shock absorbers. The left-hand shock absorber was bolted behind the axle and the right in front, to reduce axle tramp under acceleration. Amazingly for such a high-performance car, braking was still only discs and drums with power assistance.

Ironically, the Boss 302’s sexy shape was styled by former General Motors designer Larry Shinoda, who is often credited with coming up with the Boss moniker. When asked what he was working on, he replied, "The boss’s car", a reference to new Ford president ‘Bunkie’ Knudson, who was also ex-GM and had recruited Shinoda to Ford.

While the wheelbase remained unchanged at 2740mm, the ’69 Mustang was 96.5mm longer overall to accommodate all the V8s offered, although the big-blocks still had to be shoe-horned under the bonnet. Shinoda’s ’69 Boss 302 was also one of the first production cars to offer an optional front air dam and adjustable rear wing, and his use of high-contrast black panels, rear window SportsSlats, and go-faster stripes made the Boss a real attention-grabber. The ’69 was also the only quad-headlight Mustang, a feature that was dropped for 1970 models.

In 1970, American Hot Rod magazine dubbed the 1970 Boss 302 as "definitely the best handling car Ford has ever built", while the conservative Consumer Guide called it "uncomfortable at any speed over anything but the smoothest surface". Unique Cars resident Mustang maniac, ‘Uncle’ Phil Walker, never read the Consumer Guide review, but even if he had it wouldn’t have stopped him buying the immaculate 1970 Grabber Orange Boss 302 you see here.

Phil already has his beloved 1966 Shelby GT350H, but the Boss 302 really got his Mustang juices percolating. And he wasn’t alone, because the first Boss he saw, some 43 years ago, is still one of Australia’s most iconic race cars: Allan Moffat’s Trans-Am racer. Phil remembers it clearly.

"I saw Moff race it Calder and I was inspired to own one," Phil recalls. "It was the most aggressive-looking car; its stance was something you had to see to believe. It looked like it was doing a million miles per hour when it was parked.

"My Boss was originally a one-owner car and I bought it from a friend of mine in California, Dave, who I also bought my Shelby GT350H from 19 years ago. Dave found it in a barn with a blown engine, but in otherwise pretty good condition.

"The lady who owned it from new didn’t realise it had a high-compression engine and had run it on standard fuel. When it blew up she just parked it.

"Dave did a nut-and-bolt restoration over two years, then put it up on his hoist. He didn’t want to sell it, but I got my way in the end – unfortunately he had the last say on the price (laughs). I didn’t even bother to test drive it; I knew it was a good car. It had 21 (new) miles on the odo when I picked it up and only 54,000 miles in total."

Since then, Phil has only put a couple of hundred miles on the car, but that’s enough for him to have bonded with it.

"I’ve only had the Boss since January and it’s growing on me. It’s different to the Shelby. It’s bigger and very low.

"The engine is incredible. Dave is one of the best engine builders in California and when he rebuilt the 302 he changed the cam spec. US camshaft technology was okay in the 60s and 70s, but if you had a big-cam muscle car they wouldn’t idle and they were terrible for driving in cities.

"A proper Boss engine can rev to 8500rpm all day and for a V8 that’s pretty serious. But they’re not renowned for low-down torque; it starts coming on from 3500rpm. My car still has a solid-lifter cam, but it pulls like a train from 1200rpm in top gear and I can drive it around at 1500rpm in top all day.

"It’s got the four-speed close-ratio Top Loader with the long first gear and with a 3.7:1 rear end it does about 55-60mph (89-97km/h) in first gear. It bloody goes!"

Phil is a fussy bugger and his cars have to look just right, so Russell Stuckey from Stuckey Tyres has ordered him a set of genuine 15 x 8 Minilites from England to replace the standard Magnum 500s.

"I want it to look like the Parnelli Jones race car, and to get the stance I want it’s going to have 275/60s on the rear and 255/60s on the front. At the moment it’s a pretty car that is tough, but I want a tough car that looks tough. And that’s all I’m going to do to it."

After his first real fang in the Boss, Phil felt that his Shelby would be half a lap in front at the end of a 10-lap sprint at Sandown, but now thinks the Boss would be quicker. We might have to put both to the acid test one day. What do you mean "no way", Phil?

It was a nervous Phil who turned up at a Melbourne storage facility in January to pick up his new Boss 302. So nervous, in fact, that he took along Unique Cars art director Ange and a sturdy tow rope – just in case.

The storage people were even more apprehensive – they had been warned about just how anal he is with his cars, as he explains: "The lady there said, ‘You must be pretty fanatical because we’ve been given strict instructions that no one is to touch the car except you’." Fortunately, the car arrived in pristine condition.

"I was pretty excited, I���d been waiting for seven weeks," Phil laughs. "I took the car cover off it, fired it up, and it drove home like a brand new car. It was as good as I thought it would be. I spent the next three hours washing it."

Sounds like our Phil.

PARNELLI AND ME

Three years ago, my mate Dave and I were invited to a Trans-Am dinner at Portland International Raceway where Dave was racing his 1970 Trans-Am Boss 302 and I was crewing for him.

When we were driving there we noticed this black Mercedes following us. When we stopped it did too and this bloke got out and said, "I noticed you guys back at the hotel. You’re going to the Trans-Am dinner aren’t you? I’m lost." It was Parnelli Jones!

I jumped in with him and when we got there I ‘invited’ myself onto Parnelli’s table, which also included Pete Brock – the guy who designed the Shelby Daytona Coupe. There was I, Mr Nobody, with all these US racing heavies, but Parnelli was a real gentleman, not up himself in any way.

The next day they had free lap time at Portland and, when I saw Parnelli there with Ford’s new ‘Parnelli Jones’ Boss 302 tribute Mustang, I asked if there was any chance of a ride and he said jump in. We did 10 laps and the guy hadn’t lost any of his ability; my eyes were getting bigger and bigger coming into the corners.

It was a great experience that I’ll never forget. – PW

IT's MINE...

Moff’s Mustang is probably the most iconic Australian racecar and after seeing it I was inspired to own a Boss Mustang. Then, about 25 years ago, I went to Pebble Beach in Monterey for the first time and saw a 1970 Grabber Orange Boss 302, which was the colour Parnelli Jones raced in Trans-Am. That day I knew I had to own a Boss. It was the car I’d always wanted after my Shelby, which was my lifelong dream car.

My Boss 302 is fully optioned, including the Shaker, extra side mirror, tacho and rear louvres, and it’s got a lot of wow factor. When you drive down the freeway, you get the thumbs-up from all sorts of different people. I think it’s the colour.

It’s closer to show standard than my Shelby. It’s got the paint marks on the tailshaft and all the little concours details, but I’m never going to show it; I’m not into that.

The 1969/70 body shape is still the best. Ford got it right then, but lost the plot after that and it’s reflected in their collectibility today. – PW

[rottenpumpkin13]

what would it be like if the firsts lived together?

They did live together. Once. Right after Angeal and Genesis made First Class, SOLDIER grew in numbers, and the living quarters were still under planning and construction. They shared a spacious three bed, three bathroom apartment later reserved for Thirds to share. Angeal still dubs it "the worst 14 months of his life"

• Genesis had his own cereal, but thought theft tasted better, so he used to steal Sephiroth's cereal and the two would have a physical altercation over rainbow loops.

• Angeal thought Genesis was a neat freak until he met Sephiroth, who made a color-coded spreadsheet to track the frequency of dusting different areas of the house. Sephiroth liked to passive-aggresively wipe down counters after someone had been in the kitchen, and took pictures of Angeal and Genesis as they were actively making messes to hold them accountable later. Apparently Sephiroth still has a scrapbook of photos to this day, which he labeled "Why I live alone."

• Angeal was the type to leave out a dirty mug Genesis used and never washed for days on end, refusing to let Sephiroth wash it, all to prove a point. Sephiroth would cave and wash the dirty mug when she wasn't looking. Genesis knew this, which is why he would continue to use the mug and leave it out. The same mug remained in the sink for all 14 months they lived together.

• Sephiroth is an insomniac and liked to fix himself meals at 3AM, which would give Genesis a green light to practice the fucking flute, also at 3AM. Angeal had never experienced true rage until he heard a half-assed flute version of O Fortuna while Sephiroth was actively beating a stake with a meat hammer.

• Angeal would refuse to cook for them as a protest if he found half-eaten food in the garbage.

• Angeal was also no saint, and his alarm used to be a loud guitar riff meant to get him motivated and out of bed in the morning. The first time Sephiroth was startled awake by loud rock music at 5AM, he thought it was Genesis. So he threw open Genesis' door and attacked him.

• Sephiroth had the tendency to leave all the lights on, even in rooms he wasn't in. This drove Genesis and Angeal insane, and they berated him so much for it that Sephiroth started to walk around the apartment with a jumbo flashlight. He would flash it directly in their faces when talking to them because he's petty.

• Angeal had a tendency to bring over any strange item or piece of furniture he found at yard sales or on the side of the road. Angeal couldn't understand how Sephiroth thought the giant, stained beanbag chair shaped like an eye he got at a yard sale for 3 gil was junk. He also couldn't comprehend why Genesis didn't want the antique vanity Angeal got for free at the flea market because the owner thought it was haunted.

• Everyone had different scent preferences and refused to compromise. This is why the apartment smelled like Banora White Apple candles, Ocean Mist, and Tropical Berry simultaneously. It smelled like ass.

• Sephiroth enjoys his peace, but couldn't meditate when Angeal was screaming at the baseball game on TV while Genesis was using a karaoke machine to recite Loveless. His Root Chakra is still damaged to this day.

• Sephiroth had to find out the hard way what a tie on a closed door meant, and that not all screams mean someone is in danger.

• Genesis had a phase where he would bring over random people from his nights out. The amount of breakfasts Sephiroth had with half-dressed women and men singlehandedly developed his conversational skills.

• Angeal used to have this mentality of "I'm the responsible one, which means I can take things without asking." He took Sephiroth's hair brush without asking once and forgot to put it back. Sephiroth retaliated by bending Angeal's favorite stainless steel pan. Genesis had to separate them, an exhilarating experience he never wants to go through again because the pan and the hairbrush were used as weapons.

• Genesis couldn't understand why Sephiroth and Angeal didn't want his "artistic french films" playing while they were in the room. Angeal's argument was "If I wanted to see balls while I'm cooking dinner, I would make this lasagna in the locker room at SOLDIER."

[nestedneons]

By Sandu

Prompt:

"Closeup architecture Minimalist night rain busy city scene floating granite ship space dock, azzuro amber forest, scifi wild, glass and steel industrial shiny metallic space station complex architecture into deep cloud environment, volumetric light, hot engines, huge air polygonal intake gates with shutters, living pastel color pods towering skyscrapers at cliff edge, jet era shapes, The 5th element，The Matrix，Craig Mullins，Syd Mead, eerie Sandu Baciu style, photography award, ultra realistic, wide angle, high detail, volumetric light at noon, Trending on artstation, Unreal engine hyper realistic photography award magazine cover -s 222"

By Sandu

Prompt:

Mid day street scene futuristic asian market neon signs light strips Blade Runner rain pastel neon AR displays full body robot on plastic transpatent pastel clothes elegant white shinny ski jet jacket wet android police decals and stickers in pastel ski jaket scifi pockets zippers, walking american flag in space shuttele cockpit cap concept art basic droid blade runner rogue one, bokeh giant logo on chest, mecha pulp art humanoid robot schematics prints elegant ultra sci - fi robots droids fashion design, ultra modern scifi look, custom gorgeous inca wood inlay pulp art style elegant eerie sandu baciu brush painting comcept art blade runner style --s 222

[firefirefruit]

Steel in Her Veins, Prologue

Table of Contents | Next Chapter

Characters: Fem!Reader x Roronoa Zoro.

Synopsis:

Your name is Kozuki Raya, but no one calls you by that name anymore. Using the alias of Tenguyama Raya as advised by your grandfather, you are the descendant of the legendary swordsmith Kotetsu and a distant friend of the Shimotsuki clan.

Following in your ancestor’s footsteps, you dedicate your life to the mastery of sword crafting, wielding, and learning. With much of your life being taught by gramps Sukiyaki, you realise that the dormant power, ancient knowledge and ancestral secrets that thrum within your veins start to play a very important role in the way the future world is shaped.

Meeting the Straw Hats was not written anywhere within your blueprints, but – most importantly - meeting Roronoa Zoro wasn’t supposed to change the trajectory of your life either.

Prologue

"She's passed on, young man."

A weathered voice croaks out from behind one of the passing fruit stalls. The shadowed man lingers from the safety of his merchandise, the scorching sun missing only by a small inch from kissing his leathered skin.

Gritting his teeth, Zoro aimlessly turns around whilst sheathing the limping metal back to her home. Does anyone keep their fucking thoughts to themselves anymore? He mutters in his head.

“You really should let her go," the man eggs on with such a proud voice that it almost flows against the direction of the wind, against the grain of the public. As Zoro stands within the mingling market, with bundles of crowds gracing the pavements around him with their excited chatter, only but this old voice advances stronger than the rest, almost resting too clearly and proudly within the shell of Zoro’s ears.

Zoro kisses his teeth and whips his head at the direction of the sound again, finally being able to spot the silhouette to the voice - right there. The shadow with hands that slice through those blood red apples with an abnormally jagged knife. Zoro narrows his eye at the blurred figure, trying to figure it out.

“Tsch, fruit guy. Butt out, yeah?” He grumbles, shooting him a disdainful side eye. Crossing his arms in defiance, Zoro stays in his position like the good lap dog he seems to be turning into; if Luffy wasn’t so intent on him coming on this bloody island, he would’ve been able to rest. And to be able look at his poor, wounded sword in peace without dealing with so many wandering eyes.

In an instant, the old man cracks out in laughter, his voice bellowing out in clear tides. His shadowed arms grasp at his belly, a large-lipped smile peering out of his shelter. “Feisty one, I see…Is she special to you?”

The she in mention begins to hum weakly against the side of the green-head’s hip, whimpering and struggling, almost as if trying to reply. With an irritated twitch of his eyebrow, Zoro finally gives in to gape straight-on at the old geezer.

“It’s an it, not a she, dumbass. Swords have one purpose only; this one has simply served it,” Zoro snaps, straining his eyes even further to try to look at this peculiar man.

With a broken pang, the sword sheathed by his side begins to twinge again, but in an octane lower - and somehow, Zoro can feel it in his own core; he knows what the thrum of metal tugged across his leg is trying to say – the sword feels hurt by his own stupid words.

In a snap, Zoro's hand carefully rests over her head.

“Looks like you’re caressing her to me.”

“Shut up! Who even asked for your opinion?" Zoro growls, immediately yanking his hand away from his hip. The odd merchant simply guffaws in response.

Tsk. How dare he decide whether his sword was fit for battle or not?

“I’m not here to judge you, green-hair, but it simply looks to me that you have a bond with that scrap of metal. Come here.”

“I’m not in the mood, gramps. Go sell your damn apples to someone else.”

“I see. I suppose you would waste their time, anyway…”

Although Zoro’s ears are now perked by the ‘them’ in question, he keeps his eye shut tight and remains silent; he’s not going to give into this fraud’s tactics in getting a reaction from him. Hmph.

The merchant continues, quite obviously enjoying his jest with the bull-headed swordsman. “You know, that swordsmith. What was her name again…Penguyama? Tenguyummy? Tengushimmy…?”

Zoro stares at him blankly.

Clearly, this geezer is overestimating Zoro’s intelligence.

The small hints of names he’s throwing out is completely flying right past the swordman’s head, seeing how it seems like no one’s at home. Literally no light bulbs are screwed on properly up there. 

Another second passes where they both stare, bewildered by one another. The old, short man clears his throat.

“Pardon my language…But you seem quite dense.” 

“Fuck you! You’re the one who’s talking in riddles!”

“I. Help. You. With. Sword.” The merchant slowly enunciates, using his fingers to imitate the words coming out of his mouth. 

“Come.” He points obnoxiously with his finger at the incline into the hills. “Person. Makes. Swords…They. Help.” 

“Stop talking to me as if I’m slow!?”

“Pfft, you could’ve fooled me.” The merchant giggles like a child.

“Are you begging me to slice you in half?” Zoro shouts, childishly stomping towards the fruit stall.

But then, something very odd happens; as Zoro manages to look at gramps clearly for the first time, he freezes in his spot.

Indeed, it is a weathered old man leaning behind a stack of his precious fruits. With silver hair brushed across his shoulders, his unwavering smile greets the samurai with an odd sense of confidence.

But that isn’t what makes Zoro stop in his track, no, it’s what he says next. The next six words that comes out of the old man’s mouth…his awfully jagged knife limply resting over his knuckles, a knowing glint striking across his well-travelled eyes… all of it sounds self-assured.

“I’d like to see you try.”

Zoro doesn’t know what it is about this guy in front of him, but it just makes him stop. His mouth fails to open to retort something offensive – instead, he simply cocks his head to the side.

He doesn’t know whether it’s the knife that he’s masterfully twirling across the both of his hands, or if it’s the familiarity of his face – those eyes, hasn’t he seen the same ones before? – but something about him makes Zoro pause for a moment.

Gramps smiles wider, indenting his wrinkles further like ripples scattering across water, and rises one thick grey eyebrow at him.

“Now, then. Are we ready to go?”

The samurai kisses his teeth for the fifth time in a row and twists his head to the side in defeat. Subconsciously, his hand inches towards his broken sword - his untethered lifeline.

“Whoever they are, they better be worth it.”

Zoro didn’t know at the time of what was about to unfold, of what was about to be the trigger to a never-ending tale of perplexity and pain, but I can assure you that now, at this very moment, he would say that – indeed - she is worth it all.

[axcel-lucci]

Night before Christmas.

Trafalgar Law x fem!reader

A/N: I'm so toast

My masterlist

The snow falls on the streets, shops lit up despite the cold, the children enjoying the weather despite the freezing temperature, couples holding hand in hand as they walk about as if winter is the most romantic season there is.

I mean it would've been if (y/n) wasn't single and a fool.

Honestly though, who the hell spends literal years just admiring, glancing, and yearning from afar. Thinking that she wouldn't be enough for him??

Looking at the couples walking around at the Christmas market, hand in hand, clearly showing PDA and whatnot, it made her heart clench, because she knows she can't have that.

The person her heart belongs to, literally and figuratively, is her captain, Trafalgar Law. But then again, that man has a heart of steel, if it even exists inside that cold hard exterior. Even the crew he's been with since childhood has a hard time around him.

It's as if he's a stubborn brat who gets whatever he wants. But despite that, he genuinely cares about his crew like an actual family.

(Y/n) sighed softly as she soon reached the port and hopped into the sub, being greeted by Bepo's usual "HI (Y/N)!" in an excited tone.

"Hi as well, Bepo. How is the party? Has it started yet? I hope I'm not too late." She smiled at the bear as he shook his head

"It's just getting started, quick! Let's go inside, captain's joining us tonight." Bepo smiled

'join us? That's odd, he doesn't usually do that... Is he sick?' (y/n) thought as they walked to the common room.

Upon entering the room, (y/n) was greeted by the sounds of her crewmates laughing and chatting amongst themselves, the smwll of cookies filled the air, and finally, the view of the captain in all his glory.

Law was wearing his usual pants and his button up shirt that was open halfway up, as he always prefers it, and shows his tattoos.

All the seats were occupied except the one beside him on the couch, as if it was "fate".

She sighed to herself and sat down beside him, trying not to feel awkward about everything.

"Merry Christmas" he said to her

She snapped back to her senses, "oh uh... Merry Christmas too, captain" she smiled almost awkwardly.

The party soon swings and alcohol was passed around. Games were played, and meals were eaten.

At the end of the party, penguin snickered to himself with Shachi

"Oh look captain." Shachi said as he pointed above him and (y/n), "its a mistletoe"

Law and (y/n) raised a brow before looking up.

'that son of a-!' law groaned to himself and glared at Shachi with the intent to kill

Meanwhile, (y/n) just saw this as him not having feelings towards her, which makes her heart ache.

"So... What, not doing it then? How boring" Ikkaku scoffed making (y/n) laugh awkwardly.

After the party, (y/n) can't help but take a walk by the shore to think to herself, honestly, it was just to distract herself of what just happened.

It still has her on chokehold. Sure, she liked Law, but she doesn't want to ruin their friendship because of her little confession.

She sighed to herself as she felt the temperature drop as snow soon falls with crystal shaped particles.

"It's Christmas night and yet all I feel is cold..." She smiled to herself, almost a pitiful attempt to herself.

She was about to walk back when she felt a warm coat draped around her shoulders, it made her jump of course but when she turned to look who it was, it was her captain. Trafalgar Law.

He had followed her at the beach with a small smile, "what're you doing out here? You'd freeze." He says in a hushed tone as he stood beside her

"Oh, I'm just taking a walk... Hoping to sober me a little from all that eggnog" she laughed making him chuckle softly with her

"Hey... Um..." He started after a small pause between them, "about earlier... With the mistletoe thing... I hope I didn't offend you, it was just kind of embarrassing to kiss in front of the crew... If you know what I mean..."

"What...? You... Wanted to kiss me?" She was taken a back, sure her captain was unpredictable, but not THIS unpredictable.

"Why not? Would you not want me to?" He asked as he placed a warm hand on her cold cheek, "and besides... I wanted to kiss you alone... So that you wouldn't have to feel pressured in returning it. Unless you don't want me to? I mean it's fine and all that..."

"I don't understand cap-"

"I have a name, use it."

"..." (Y/n) looks at him with wide eyes before laughing softly, "youre such a dork... Law..."

It made him chuckle a bit, "am I now? Before I kiss you, I... Wanted to give you this" he hands her a small box.

She accepted it happily before opening it to reveal a beautifully crafted necklace with her favourite jewel as the pendant.

"It was... Hard... Making jewellery is hard..." Law muttered

"You... Made this?"

"Yeah... I wanted to make you something since I can't buy jewelry normally because, as you can see, we're pirates." He rolled his eyes with a slight scoff, "so... Do you like it?"

She smiled softly before hugging him tightly, "oh I love it... Law..."

"I'm glad..."

"I have nothing for you, though..." She said as she looked up at him

"Hmm... It's alright... Can I have a kiss instead?" He said with a mischievous smirk

"Oh, you!" She laughed before kissing him deeply in which he immediately responded to by wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close

They soon pulled away for oxygen only to laugh like idiots to themselves at how absurd the situation is.

It seems like this night before Christmas isn't so bad after all...

[gxr25256]

Mercy in the Shadows - Sixshot x reader

🌵 If there are any mistakes, please forgive me.

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

The black market of Cybertron sprawled beneath the grimy spires of an abandoned industrial sector, where the remnants of war and conquest had been shoved aside to decay in shadows. Towering structures—relics of past battles and conquests—cast long, harsh shadows over crowded rows of stalls where vendors hawked anything with a price. Stolen weapons, forbidden tech, scraps of Cybertronian armor, and unfortunate captives from distant planets—all of it littered the scene in a chaotic mixture of neon and rust. Each item was a trophy, a whisper of violence from a hundred other worlds, and Sixshot drifted through it with a growing, gnawing sense of restlessness.

Megatron’s unexpected day off grated against his nature; idleness felt like rust forming on his circuits. A day without purpose felt like a day stripped of his essence. That's insulting. But the boredom had brought him here, among his fellow Phase Sixers. They were scattered across the market, each drifting toward different distractions like predators prowling in the dusk.

Overlord prowled through the stalls with his usual swagger, laughing off merchants' terrified glances with mock kindness that barely hid his violent intent. Sixshot had long ago come to understand Overlord’s twisted relish for bloodshed, a brutality that went beyond any sense of duty. There was something grotesque, almost obscene, about his joy in suffering, a sentiment that made Sixshot uneasy.

Black Shadow, on the other hand, drifted between stalls with a smooth confidence, a face that alternated between detached boredom and intrigue. Occasionally, he exchanged a few sly words with some of the merchants or put his arm around some of his deceptions colleagues and appear very friendly. But Sixshot knew better—he saw through the charade. Black Shadow wasn't here out of camaraderie. No, the only reason he is here: profit. Energizing his private stockpile was his real objective. Sixshot knew as soon as black shadow got a good enough price, he’d betray them without a second thought.

Putting thoughts about his colleague aside, sixshot adjusted his posture. He leaned back against a wall of rough, rusted steel, arms crossed, optics skimming the market with a disinterested glare. His gaze skimmed over the vendors and buyers, creatures of every shape and size, each chattering in grating voices over who or what might be worth a trade. The entire place was a crowded mess, littered with broken artifacts and miserable captives. Some were quiet, others despairing, a few shouting or growling in languages he didn’t bother to understand.

But then, his optics landed on "you."

It took him a second to recognize the figure—a tiny form crammed behind the energy bars of a cage, looking so out of place it was almost laughable. Among the clanking, bulkier species of aliens, among all the caged beasts and prisoners from dozens of battlefronts, you stood out: fragile, trembling, skin pale under the harsh Cybertronian lights.

A human.

The human's fear was almost palpable. Your breathing was quick, shallow, and you clung to the far side of the cage as if hoping it would dissolve into an escape. Your wide eyes darted around the market in search of something, anything, to save you from the towering titans that prowled the area. That look was one Sixshot knew well.

He couldn’t resist the pull of curiosity. What do you feel when you know your existence is utterly insignificant in a universe ruled by giants? he mused. Something about their terror was... different from what he usually saw. Battle gave him excitement, yes, but this? This was a glimpse into the helplessness he so rarely encountered.

He pushed off the wall, striding slowly toward your cage, his optics studying every detail. Your small form clung to the bars, eyes darting wildly around the market, your breath coming in quick, shallow gulps. From the trembling in your limbs, to the way you pressed yourself against the back of the cage, every fiber of your being screamed of fear, like an animal that knew it was cornered and hopelessly outmatched.

There was no bravery in you, no defiance, no hidden strength waiting to be unveiled. And yet��your fear was different from what he normally saw in battle. There was a desperation in it, a rawness that he rarely encountered. The beings he faced on the battlefield had a hardened kind of fear, a last-stand defiance, as though they had already accepted their fate before they ever laid optics on him. They were soldiers, warriors resigned to the end. You were none of those things. You were terrified in a way he hadn’t seen since his earliest days of combat, when his first foes had still been innocent enough to believe that fighting back would save them.

He leaned closer, his optics boring down on you, watching with an intensity that made the cage rattle as his presence loomed. You flinched violently, clutching the bars of the cage as though willing yourself to vanish. Your eyes met his briefly, wide and pleading, then darted away, too afraid to hold his gaze. The look on your face—it stirred something deep within him, a flicker of recognition that was more instinct than memory.

This was prey. True prey. The kind that knew only terror, the kind that understood its helplessness in the face of absolute power.

He was aware of your every movement: the small tremors running through you, the quiver of your lip as you fought to stay silent, the shallow rise and fall of your chest as you struggled to control your breath. He could practically feel your pulse racing from where he stood, a tiny, frantic heartbeat in the face of a predator that could crush you with a single motion.

Something cold and calculating sparked in Sixshot’s optics as he observed you, an old, he hadn’t felt in cycles. It wasn’t the thrill of conquest, nor the satisfaction of a worthy opponent. It was simply a glimpse into something so small and insignificant that it gave him a reminder of what he truly was: a weapon, a machine of total annihilation, one that even other Decepticons viewed with unease. His power had made him a pariah, feared and isolated even among the monsters he called allies.

Yet, he respected the strong. He valued those who fought back, who met him on the battlefield with fire in their optics. This human was none of those things. But there was still something about them, something attractive.

An annoyed sigh came from him, like a roll of thunder. “Pathetic,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. But he didn’t move away. He stayed there, towering over the cage, optics fixed on you like a scientist inspecting a specimen.

The vendor, noticing Sixshot’s interest, sidled over eagerly, his voice a grating whine. “Quite a rare find, isn’t it? A rarity from that little backwater planet, Earth." The merchant gave a smug chuckle. “Not much of a fighter, but they cower in the most entertaining ways.”

The words barely registered to Sixshot. He continued to observe you, noting every subtle tremor, every desperate shift of your eyes. He saw the way your fingers gripped each other tightly, knuckles turning white under the strain, your breathing growing shallow as you tried to make yourself smaller, less visible.

“Interested?” the trader ventured, clearly hoping for a transaction.

Sixshot’s optics narrowed. “What would I do with something so fragile?” he replied, his tone dismissive, though his gaze hadn’t shifted.

The merchant chuckled, mistaking Sixshot's interest as mere curiosity . “A toy, perhaps. Or a pet to keep your quarters interesting. Some find it amusing, having one of these creatures cowering in the corner, watching you with those little eyes. It can be… satisfying.”

The idea of taking you as a “pet” was laughable to him. Amusing? No, that wasn’t it. He had no need for amusement. His life was not about leisure or indulgence—it was about the thrill of worthy combat, the satisfaction of watching an opponent meet their end with dignity or terror. You didn’t fit into that world; you were not a warrior, nor an enemy, nor anything remotely close to a combatant. And yet, your fear called to him.

It would be so easy to snuff out that fear. One flick of his finger could silence you, end your miserable terror in an instant. It would be a mercy—a quick death, a release from the agony of knowing you were powerless.

And yet, he didn’t.

“Do you understand what you are?” he asked quietly, his voice a deep, rumbling growl that filled the space around you. The question seemed almost rhetorical, but he was genuinely curious. What went on in a mind that knew it was nothing more than prey? A creature so weak it couldn’t even defend itself, forced to rely on hope or mercy—neither of which existed here.

Your head lifted, just barely, and you managed a timid nod, your eyes wide and glazed with tears. He could see the struggle in your face, the way you fought to keep some shred of composure in the face of absolute terror.

"Then you understand this is where you die," he continued, almost conversationally, as if discussing the weather. His tone held no malice, no cruelty; it was a simple statement of fact.

Your lips parted, a faint tremble to your voice. "Please…" The word slipped out, barely audible, a plea that you knew was pointless yet voiced out of desperation.

With a dismissive huff, he straightened, turning away from the cage, folding his arms and giving you a final, unreadable look. “I’ll take this one,” he said simply to the merchant, his voice devoid of any emotion but finality.

The merchant’s face brightened with greed. “A fine choice! You’ll enjoy having a creature so… malleable. They’re delightful to break.”

Sixshot didn’t respond. He didn’t take you because he wanted a pet. He didn’t take you becausehe found any joy in your terror. But perhaps, in his own way, he was giving you a purpose. A purpose in his world—a chance to exist, however briefly. Or it would simply be a way for him to kill time.

Whatever it is, then for you, it would be the beginning of a nightmare from which there was no escape.

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

[keldae]

Abduction

Inspired by this Tumblr post!

Something felt… off. Gale couldn't place his finger on what triggered the sensation of something being wrong, but he knew the tingling feeling of not all being well, nagging at his subconscious. He fidgeted with his staff, watching the market square around him. Aside from the roaming Fist patrol with a Steel Watcher in the group, nothing in this busy market seemed to be outwardly wrong.

Beside him, Lae’zel snorted. “Tch . They all go on about their business like nothing is wrong. Even the earthquakes don't seem to bother them.” She watched as a group of children scampered by. “They wouldn't last an hour against the ghaik.”

Gale shook his head in agreement. “Let us hope it doesn't come to them needing to defend themselves,” he murmured, still trying to figure out what felt so wrong.

Lae’zel peered at him. “You're distracted, Gale. What's wrong?”

“I don't know… but something is,” Gale muttered, looking around the marketplace. “Do you not feel it?”

“Something has felt wrong ever since I woke up on that nautiloid,” Lae’zel pointed out. She glanced over as Jaheira made her way over. “Did you find what you needed?”

Jaheira nodded. “Not at the prices I would have liked, mind. Devi still isn't back?”

Gale shook his head. “She said she was going to duck into that shop to see if they had more multi-target arrows,” he said. “But unless she's deep in haggling over prices, she should have been back by now.”

A slightly-annoyed frown on her brow, Jaheira started toward the indicated shop. “I'll go grab her. We don't have all day for her to barter.”

Humming, Gale settled back against the fountain he was leaning against, watching as Jaheira vanished behind the door. His heart lurched into his throat when the High Harper returned alone a minute later. “She wasn't in there,” she said, making dread flicker to life in Gale’s chest. “For fuck’s sake, Devi, what trouble did you find now?”

“We would have seen her leave,” Lae’zel pointed out, tensing like she expected a fight. “Did the shopkeeper not see her?”

Jaheira shook her head. “Either he was lying, or Devi never went in there.”

“Shit,” Gale breathed out. The nagging sensation of something being wrong veered into full-fledged anxiety. “I know I saw her go in there. I can read the shopkeeper's mind to figure out what precisely happened.”

“I can just make him talk,” Lae’zel growled, her fingers flexing as though around her sword hilt. “Come, let's go have a discussion with that shopkeeper.”

“Oh, this is going to go poorly,” Jaheira muttered as she followed both githyanki and human back toward the shop.

The trio didn't make it to the door before Lae’zel sharply turned her head, her sensitive ears picking up on a sound from the nearby alley. She veered off toward the noise, Gale and Jaheira in her wake. “What the hells?” she murmured, looking around the alley before she suddenly ran forward, reaching for her sword.

“What–?” Gale felt his blood run cold as he saw the blood pool in the alley. He raced up to Lae’zel’s side, frantically looking around. There was no body to be seen – but there was a shape standing around a corner, back to the marketplace, knives in both hands. Gale recognised Devi’s long hair and teal jacket, stained as they were with blood. But what in the hells was she doing here, and why was she standing like that? “Devi?” he asked, stepping around Lae’zel. “Darling, what happened?”

Read the rest on AO3

[huevobuevo]

Whoops

hello generation loss enjoyers. it has been several months since the release of ranboos project, how have yall been? im going to be insane.

Many folks have known me as the lminal space connosieur, dead malls and fucked up houses in particular being my strongsuit for both their sex appeal and the amount of symbolism they can all hold.

Watching Gen Loss with my friends through a hostage situation was a wonderful experience! upon the reveal of the Showfall Media offices being inside a rented out mall, there was a split second where I was a bit unamused at the lack of effort put into integrating the mall's architecture into the studio's office. There were only a few empty stores being used with at the bare minimum some chairs and desks, half the mall was still closed, the mini maps stands were still up, and the food court's usage as the streamers hub was very just. like. thats a whole ass food court. without the people walking around the only way to actually know what the hel this was being used for was the giant white banner that just said showfall media like a fraternity's house claiming its territory.

But then, as the episode 2 closed out, almost instantly it hit me why. why the mall was still a mall, why there was little to no integration for the set- it was on purpose. it was supposed to just be a studio crammed inside a mall. a dead mall, to be precise.

first lets get into the anatomy of what makes a dead mall dead. Around the 1980's a rise in popularity of the commercial supermalls began to spread, the american consumerist dream was rampant with a greater demand of fast fashion, merchandise, and all kinds of strange trinkets for the average american to waste their money on. It was capitalism's wettest dream, but as the years went on there came a steady decline in popularity. Sometimes the competing businesses ended up putting each other out of stock, maybe the trends began dying off, and in certain areas consistent crime rates drove away costumers.

Then in the mid 2000's the stock market crash ended up pushing several people into poverty, the lower class unable to afford the luxury goods offered at shopping centers. Then online shopping took society in a deathgrip, further pushing away the desire for in-public purchasing. Brands took notice and began selling online-exclusive products. In the late 2010's the sightings of several "dead malls" were on an alltime high, some being left to rot while others were demolished all together in favor of empty concrete spaces.

Corporate response to this was one of two things; continously invest in the "Anchor Stores" (big chain stores like Macys or Forever 21 that brought in more customers, usually stationed at the ends of the mall). Meanwhile the smaller businesses inside would be shut down one by one to save costs, until eventually the anchor stores themselves would be forced to leave. Sometimes the Anchor Stores would leave beforehand, not wanting to waste money investing in a deadend location. the decline is faster, the mall rots quicker. The company sells the lot to the biggest buyer and destroys what little remains.

Then there are times where the mall itself is sold off to another bigger company, in hopes of more funds to rejuvenate the center. Majority of the time the mall will enter a large reconstruction designed to look more appealing, mor modern. In actually, the personality of the malls architecture is stripped like the skin of prey. The colors and vibrant shapes of the late 1900’s, the waterfalls with rocky beds and marbled beige tiles, all replaced in favor of sharp black on white edge and stainless steel fencing. The occasional shrub here or there, maintained by automation. Lights too bright, all glimmer, all space. Sometimes it works, sometimes the mall is reborn as the pinnacle of luxury again! Sometimes it rots in shiny chrome, a corpse dragged along in the hopes of attracting attention. All it does is stink and bloat, a miserable display.

I hope you begin to catch what im saying.

In Generation Loss, the Showfield Social Experiments are commentary on streamer culture and the damaging relationship between a content creator & their platform. Visualized by Ranboo being pushed into dangerous scenarios for the sake of entertainment, their disposable friends forced into the flat archetypes the fandoms have labeled them as.

They were all vibrant young folks once, bright with personality and that raw humanity filled with flaws and voice cracks. Shitty microphones and inconsistent uploads, some were barely finishing high school. Then they became big, almost too big. They were characters now, and just like Ranboo’s teammates the perception of them as humans were dumbed down to memorable trademarks. Streamers and Content Creators alike had to be marketable now, and when the time comes where they lost their popularity sometimes they sign off to groups and organizations to help boost them up again. They are stripped of their rawness again. Theres a reason their artforms are called “content”.

So it makes sense that Showfall Media, the personification of the content creators downfall, would do the same to a Mall. The corpse of the center is repurposed loosely to fit the studios purpose. It is empty, it is hollow, it is dead. Low costs, big risks- just like Gen Loss Ranboo.

basically

Content Creators are Dead Malls.

[loving-n0t-heyting]

In a recent post complaining about a certain type of person doing a certain type of take, you listed 'there is literally nothing to be said about housing than "build moar and abolish zoning"' as one such take, alongside other more disagreeable ones, etc.

Could you expand upon your disagreements with this? Is it that you think "homelessness will require active spending to fix", "Housing policy should include improved legal protections for renters(and just building more housing to provide alternatives isn't enough)", or something more fundamental in opposition?

I will say that housing is an area where a lot of my concrete stances are unsettled, i used to more or less imbibe standard yimby views from my social sphere and have grown more agnostic over time. But milquetoast fence sitting aside i will say this:

Building lots of high end housing can, in fact, cause problems for existing local residents that need to be considered when implementing construction. Short term rising rents and displacement, primarily

Idt any amount of market rate housing will fully solve the problem of housing affordability for poorer tenants. Some amount of govt intervention—best of all in the shape of vienna-style public housing projects, plus rent control and other forms of decommodification—is necessary to properly relieve the burden of housing costs for all sections of society. For at the very least the obvious reason that low income housing is just not that profitable

I am any amount sympathetic to preserving and fostering local urban community and culture. This talk gets abused but i think i take it more seriously than most "just build!!!" yimbies. Jane jacobs type stuff

Its petty but gawd the new luxury construction that i see built around here is so ugly. Theres no fucking law saying a high rise isnt allowed ornamentation or colour or anything besides the aesthetic of babbys first minecraft architecture. And the brutalism and hideous masses of steel and glass fandom has gotta stop whining about how persecuted they are. You guys have a monopoly on new devt and yr design preferences are massively unpopular, they should be represented in architecture in proportion to their meagre popularity among the public that has to live around it. Theres a reason the far right loves "retvrn to buildings that look nice" as a foot in the door for radicalisation, its bc most ppl are agreed the buildings yimbies drool over look like shit. Architects are an oppressor class

I am probably a "left yimby" with caveats when all is said/done. More housing and denser housing seem like urgent needs but these are not problems you can fully offload to the market without unfairly screwing a lot of ppl over

[one-of-many-journeys]

Day 13

Daytower

Back to Daytower a couple hours after dawn to deliver the news to Balan. Lakhir made it back sometime during the night. Impressive, considering he was barely clothed and beaten up. I can appreciate the persistence, though it would have been easier going if he'd just let me help. Balan even gifted me a set of Carja armour. Seems…complicated, and too colourful for subterfuge. Guess it might come in useful someday.

Breakfast, and I donned my new armour—Oseram, though lighter and more practical than Erend's vanguard steel. Then I set out beyond the gates and into Carja territory.

More stone arches and sandy tiles: the road ahead was well marked with lamps and pillars. It didn't take my Focus long, after analysing a few books of Carja glyphs I scanned in Daytower, to build a steady understanding of the language and mark translations of the signage along the way. I wonder how it does it. I suppose there must be some underlying pattern that the writings share with the Nora's and with the language of the Old Ones.

A huge machine circling over—a Stormbird. Watching it from the fort yesterday, I was both excited and afraid to face it. In the end. it didn't give me a choice, spotting my mount and raining down balls of blue spark that rattled me through. I tied it down with my new Ropecaster, set off its blaze and chillwater canisters and tearing its storm core apart with arrows (new ones, hardpoint. they're brillant, but more finicky to craft). A few Carja soldiers helped me take it down (minimally, but they distracted it some). They were impressed; at this rate, word will reach Meridian ahead of me. Good for favours, bad if Olin catches wind of me and runs.

I rested at a Hunting grounds on the rise beside the Stormbird's domain. The keeper was a little strange, but friendly, and seemed genuinely delighted to meet a Nora.

Glinthawks. Nasty things, spewing frost and screaming with claws bared as they swoop from the sky. Used up all my freeze rime fighting off the chill. Tramplers too: fire to the hawks' ice, charging across the dusty plain. Terrifying, but easy kills by tearing off their flaming undercarriages. Three blazing suns, first try. Who are these trials made for? Amateurs? Can't wait to show these Meridian hunters what I've got.

Pressed onward in the afternoon, then came to a small outpost called Morning Watch and rested there for an hour or so. I was right, word did proceed me. The guards wanted to hear about my kill.

A little closer to Meridian.

Just down the climb from the outpost, I picked up a signal from a Tallneck. I went on foot to avoid alerting the machines. Damn hot in this place. All this leather and cotton...better than fur, but still stifling.

The swim was welcome. I managed to avoid the machines and climbed the Tallneck for an even better view of Meridian and the spire. With the Tallneck's data, I got a decent map of the area as well. The spire is shaped so strangely—did the Carja build it?

Back on the trail toward a settlement on a nearby rise at nightfall.

Lone light, it was called. A band of Carja played music on stringed instruments and metal drums. There was drunken dancing, to which I was invited. I declined.

Stopped at a bar and a food market, buying up provisions for the road. Game, roots and berries are good enough, but it's nice to have a cooked meal prepared by someone who isn't working with a roadside campfire and the exhaustion of the hunt.

The barman pointed me to the inn, a foreign concept to me. I was ready to find a shaded spot on a decking and curl up to sleep. The price wasn't too steep either.

Softer than any Nora bed, which were already too soft for me. Get too comfortable in the wilds and you'll be too slow to rise when threats emerge. I slept with my bow and quiver, just in case.

[iamarealkat]

FIRST COURSE - KNIVES

(or at least the ones I recognised from the TV-show so far)

mads mikkelsen by kenneth willardt for vanity fair italy, 2015 - aka my favorite shoot of his.

i apologize.

1. Spyderco Harpy

• appears in Hannibal season 3 in Italy .ೃ࿐

The Harpy was designed as a knife for seamen, featuring a karambit style blade that magically cuts right through rope, the serration lending a hand to the task.

Additionally, the Harpy boasts a detailed tip, which can chew through a manner of different materials, probably one of the main reasons why Hannibal found it handy for different...matters. To sum it up: This is not one of his kitchen knives, but rather one he used as a pocket knife in all different kind of situations.

Originally the japanese Spyderco Harpy was designed to accommodate the needs of commercial fishermen. The hawksbill blade is modeled after the talon of the Harpy eagle, allowing for a deliberate pulling cut where the object does not slip off the end of the edge. The hollow-ground blade incorporates SpyderEdge serrations and a thick spine for support. The handle is made of stainless steel with a drying vent, perfect for Hannibal and his exquisite taste…and of course correspondingly expensive. A good 200 euros for this fine tool, everybody. But he seems to be rolling in money, so no problem for our favourite cannibal.

2. Chroma Type 301 style by F. A. Porsche

• appear in various episodes as Hannibal’s kitchen knives .ೃ࿐

To be honest I really fell in love with the Spyderco Harpy and didn’t quite think anything could change that. But. When I tell you the design…omg. The Chroma Type 301 knife series was brought to life by F.A. Porsche (yup, the german car guy) and the chef of the decade, Jörg Wörther (austrian chef).

Japanese knives have achieved global recognition for their quality, as the Japanese hold a long tradition in metallurgy. The Japanese metallurgists have elevated the forging and sharpening of the blade into a form of art for hundreds of years, since the era of the notorious Katana swords. On the other hand, Europeans and Americans also make excellent knives, often characterized by superior ergonomics and design, but rarely distinguished for the hardness and sharpness of their blade.

The type 301 knife series by Chroma bridges the gap between Japanese tradition and the European design, this series standing out for its unique design and practical function. Porsche and Wörther closely worked together in order to develop the final shape of the handle, which is optimized for maximum usability. The result is a precision cutting tool. Each knife is carefully weighted to ensure perfect balance in the hand and in combination with the highly ergonomic handle, it feels like an extension of the user’s hand. The Chroma type 301 knives follow faithfully the Japanese philosophy, which dictates a knife to be lightweight and flexible. They are made of high-quality Japanese 301 steel, a relatively lightweight material which has a 56-58 hardness rating in the Rockwell hardness scale. This renders the type 301 knives harder than most of the non-Japanese knives and among the hardest knives within their price range. The increased hardness allows the knife to maintain its sharpness longer and also to slice better.Even though the Chroma type 301 knives are mass produced, they are carefully razorsharp sharpened by the hand of a master. Quality control is performed on one-to-one basis and not through random sampling. And by the way…did I mention the extraordinary design.

3. Kai Shun Knives

• appear in various episodes as Hannibal’s kitchen knives .ೃ࿐

Before Shun Cutlery was established in the western market, most people were used to heavy European-style kitchen knives. With Shun’s entry into the marketplace, home cooks and professional chefs alike were introduced to the lightweight precision of fine Japanese cutlery. Thinner blades, sharper edges, and lighter weight gave Shun a high-performance edge that the heavier knives couldn’t match. Each Shun still takes at least 100 handcrafted steps to complete and Shun remains true to its ancient heritage of quality. At the same time, Shun takes advantage of thoroughly modern, premium materials and state-of-the-art technology to provide that traditional quality to millions of professional chefs and avid home cooks throughout the world.

Today, Shun has become one of the most well-known names in kitchen cutlery. It has won awards for innovation and quality. It has been admired and emulated. With new styles, new materials, and an ongoing dedication to the spirit of innovation, Shun will continue to provide Japanese kitchen cutlery of outstanding beauty, impeccable precision, and the very highest performance.

4. Global Knives

• appear in various episodes as Hannibal’s kitchen knives .ೃ࿐

Global G Series knives are typically put together in what's called a three piece construction. The blade is stamped out of sheets of steel of a proprietary stainless steel alloy, while the two handles are created and welded together separately. The blade and handle are then welded together into one solid piece of stainless steel.

What makes these Global knives a bit unusual is that they start off empty. The blades are welded on without a tang and the handles are actually hollow. Instead, to maintain balance, they are filled with a very precise amount of sand.

Now it's quite unusual and you might just write this off as Japan being Japan and doing things differently because...well, they're Japan, but it seems to work very well for them.

The ability to inject a precise amount of weight (sand, in this case) as needed directly into the knife has led to them getting a reputation or having very precise and excellently balanced knives across their range of products.

That said, ergonomics are always personal.

Global G Series knives tend to feel very lightweight and evenly balanced. Some people tend to prefer a knife that is more weighted to the back for a firmer grip, or to the front for chopping action. This is the classic global knife version, but of course there are various other series one can discover. Unfortunately I am not able to tell the exact version Hannibal uses in the show by just watching...if anyone has an idea let me know!!!