#concrete testing machine name

[marvelwitchergilmore]

No Longer Alone

Summary: Logan Howlett x Fe!Reader -> Logan shows up for you even when you think you don't need him.

Disclaimer: Lot of angst, reader has painful flashbacks and finds out about her hidden past. Mentions of torture and being experimented on. Happy ending of sorts. Logan shows up for the reader -- kind of more on a platonic level but could be interpreted as more. Not Proof Read.

You’d been standing in melting snow for fifteen minutes. 

Wrapped up warm from a tank, long sleeve top, zipper hoodie, leather jacket, jeans, thermal socks and boots, the snow and the cold air wasn’t making its way into your skin. But there was still a chill. 

All around you it was as if no time had passed at all. The door had rusted a little with time, but its green colour still remained. Weeds still sprung up around the edge of the grass patches outside. The netting around the grounds couldn’t be used anymore, but they were still there. 

Your nose was already turning red from the cold air, and the tips of your fingers were starting to feel the chill, but it still didn’t equal anything you were feeling inside. 

You sniffed and took a few steps back, looking at the same concrete blocks you’d looked at for almost two years. Then you looked up and took a breath. 

You could still hear the noises, see the lab coats running around, hear the whirring of machines and the screams of all those who were tested before you, and after you. 

Yet you survived. 

“Are you going in, or did you just plan to stand out in the cold all day?”

Your head whipped to the right and you were met with Logan walking towards you. You hadn’t even heard him before he spoke. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked, looking around before looking back at him. 

“Freezing my ass off.” He answered. “Relax, no one else is here. It’s just me. So, this is it then?”

He took a look over the building in front of you as he stood beside you. You didn’t know what to say but your emotions landed on annoyed. A stall halt in your breathing forced you to look away from him and back at the building. 

“Yeah, this is it,” you said. “How did you-”

“Rogue. She saw you leave this morning.” Logan told you honestly. 

“Oh.”

Logan stayed with you in the short silence that followed. 

“Why are you here, Logan?”

He could lie, he could be sarcastic. But he opted for the truth. 

“I’ve done this once before, on my own,” he said. “I figured I wouldn’t let you go through the same thing. You don’t have to do everything alone.”

You knew that was true, but despite being alive for decades, you still hadn’t come to fully accept the concept for yourself. You were there for everyone else; they just couldn’t be there for you. 

“I don’t know what’s gonna be in there, or how it’s going to affect me,” you warned him. 

In recent months, your persistent headaches have been getting more vicious. From the odd dull ache behind one of your eyes, to full blow migraines that would make you want to sleep for months, if you could even get to sleep. All the while small noises and pictures would flash across your mind. 

On the rare occasion you did get some sleep, you’d wake because of a nightmare. Well, that you had thought was a nightmare until two weeks ago when it became clear your nightmares were actually memories. 

It happened in your classroom. 

One minute you were teaching your kids about the history of the British Empire when all of a sudden the attack happened faster than you could comprehend. It sent you to the floor and a second later Rogue had gone to find a teacher. She had found Logan and Storm in the hallway. 

Your grip on the leg of your blackboard was turning your knuckles white from how fiercely you were holding on, all in the hopes you wouldn’t scream out in pain. 

“Storm, get them out of here.”

She started ushering concerned and scared kids out of the classroom as Logan ran over to you and knelt on the floor beside you. He was calling your name but it was almost as if you couldn’t hear him. 

The whirring and bubbling and crashing noises ringing in your ears were too loud, then the screaming started. Before you knew it, pictures joined the noises. An abandoned army base, subjects locked in clear box rooms, each one getting sicker than the last. 

Then it was your turn. 

Eventually, Logan’s voice broke through and you managed to push past the pain and open your eyes in order to remind yourself where you were. The noise drowned away and so did the images of people in lab coats in your classroom. 

Then all you saw was Logan. 

“Hey,” Logan said to you as his arms came around you, pushing the hair from your face so he could see your eyes clearly. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

“I-I don’t know.”

Logan looked over his shoulder. “Rogue, run and tell Jean to go to her lab.”

“What about Y/n?”

“I’ll take care of her, just go.”

The young girl nodded and ran directly out of the room, shouting behind her to Storm about what she was doing. As Storm came back into the classroom she was met with Logan lifting you from the ground as you stood weakly. 

It was two days of tests and talks with the Professor before being given time away from teaching – Logan offered to cover your lessons – and having more conversations which led to a reading from the Professor and another attack that provided you with more information to piece together. 

Then, one evening, smaller, less intense memories came flooding back giving you the full picture. 

Still standing beside you, Logan just gave you a reassuring smile. “I’ve lived for a long time. I don’t think there is anything that can happen that I won’t be able to deal with.”

You had to look away from him as your mind had a war with itself. You wanted to do it alone; you felt you had to. You’d been alive for a long time, too, and for most of it, you’d been alone. You’d faced a lot of fears alone, so why couldn’t you face this one alone, too? 

But the other part of you wanted to grip onto Logan’s hand for dear life and let him join you so, for once in your life, you didn’t have to be alone when facing something. Even if he didn’t know what would happen by the time you both walked back outside, you wouldn’t be the only one carrying that information. 

Looking at the door, you took in a deep breath and let it out, trying to force away the tears long enough to be able to see everything clearly. 

Then you took a step forward, and another, and another. 

From behind you, Logan smiled softly before following behind you as you walked towards the doors and reached for the handle. With your second hand over the middle of the doors where they met, you both heard a small click before you pulled at the door handle and the door creaked open and scraped against the ground a little. 

Inside was damp and cold, water dripping from the pipes that were running above your heads. You looked around before finding the mains switch and lifting up the lever. All the lights came on and whatever machinery was inside the building came to life for the first time in, probably, fifty years or more. 

You looked at Logan for reassurance and he nodded. He couldn’t hear anything, or rather, anyone that you couldn’t. You continued walking down the hallway, everything slowly becoming more and more familiar. 

On the ground, both yours and Logan’s boots either clicked against the drying concrete or splashed in the small piles of water that were gathering. 

“Recognise anything?”

“Too much.” Your voice was quiet, if a little hard. You continued to look around, more and more memories flooding through your mind. Then you powered through a set of doors, Logan jogging a little to catch up to you. 

“Where are you going?”

You turned down a few more corridors. Logan called out your name but it fell of deaf ears and you made it through a final set of metal doors. 

The lights came on inside but he couldn’t see anything but your silhouette.

“Where are you-” 

As Logan stopped by your side, he looked around. Two sides of the hallway, boxes no bigger than single prison cells lined the walls. Slowly you started to walk down it and the further you and Logan got, the more lights flicked on with the motion. 

The hallway seemed to just get longer and longer, and it just kept going, but you stopped a little over halfway down. 

Logan seemed to spin on his feet. “How many are even-”

“Three hundred and sixty. One eighty on each side, one research subject in each. Some men, some women. Some were just kids. All were those without family. Nobody misses or mourns them if something happens. No one asked questions about them when they went out one morning to pick up a loaf of bread or some eggs.”

Then you said something that sent the dagger in Logan’s heart ripping straight down with a blunt edge. 

“This one was mine.”

You could still feel what it was like; cowering and shivering in the corner, begging for death. All you wanted was for the pain in your veins to stop. Eventually you blacked out and woke back up strapped to a cold metal table because you were like five others. You’d survived the first night. 

The tests continued like that for weeks until one morning you woke up in a bed. It was lumpy and hard but it was better than the cold metal table. 

Until you collapsed in the Professor’s office ten days after your first attack in the classroom, you’d had no idea what had happened before you woke up in a stuffy motel room confused and in pain. 

From the stuffy motel room, you’d kept the knowledge of your sudden powers under wraps and signed up to help fill in the numbers at the motel owner’s club. The woman that ran it was a doctor at the hospital and they were looking for more nurses. Since you didn’t know anything other than your name, you signed up and found yourself a natural. 

From that moment on you built a life into one that you recognised. Eventually, your life from ‘before’ became nothing but a passing thought. Nobody had come looking for you, so maybe it wasn’t important to know what happened before. 

Eventually you were found in a hospital in New York by a man in a wheelchair complaining of a chesty cough. Then he told you the real reason he’d come to find you. 

Eventually you moved away from the clear box and walked back down the hallway towards the doors and started going in and out of each different room. Some of them you explained to Logan, others he could recognise himself.

Then, as you stood at the side of the metal table, you touched the surface and talked to Logan. 

“Why was I the only one to survive?”

Logan turned around from the file littered desk and looked at you. “How do you know you’re the only one?”

“Because I remember.” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. “They were running me through more testing when they got word someone had found out what they were doing. They piled everyone into ex-service trucks. Between the screams…I happened.”

“You?”

“The tests they were running…it caused me more pain than they’d been expecting so I’d…I don’t know what I did, but I know it wasn’t good because when I woke up more places were being burned down.” You closed your eyes as tight as you could before continuing on. “I turned on the sprinklers before I left. I knew they were dealt with manually because one of the lab techs had been complaining about if something went wrong, what would happen. By the time I got outside everyone was gone. They either died of pain or in fear. Probably both.”

“That’s not your fault.”

The tears were falling from your closed eyes. “No, I know. I know, just…”

Logan came to your side and laid a hand on your shoulder. “Y/n, look at me.”

You didn’t.

“Please.”

After a while, you did. 

“What happened here is not your fault.” Logan told you. “They used and tortured you. And they did the same to countless others. None of that is your fault.”

“Why was I the only one to survive?” 

As you repeated your question, you stepped back and walked away from Logan. He remained still, watching as you paced around the room. 

“Why? Out of everyone, out of every single person they ran tests on, why was I the only one it worked on? Why was I the only one to survive? I know there’s survivor's guilt, but it’s a genuine question. Why? Why was I the only one to survive?”

“Because you already had a mutation.”

You stopped pacing and looked at Logan. “What?”

Logan didn’t bother explaining. All he did was walk over to where he’d been standing previously before he flicked open one of the files. There were nearly thirty pages worth of drug tests being done. 

“Do you remember these?” Logan held up a faded prescription bottle with small blue and black capsules. 

You flicked through the file yourself. “Yeah, they were given to some of us twice a day.”

“They’re suppressors.” 

The further you got in the file, the more you understood. 

“You had a mutation and they couldn’t risk it coming through at full force whilst they ran whatever sick tests they already wanted to run.”

Logan was right. 

There was a list of patients with different mutation abilities. Some labelled premature, others labelled late. But all were placed on the blue and black pill. Suppressing the mutation ability allowed for the lab coats to check if forcing a new mutation through could work. 

You didn’t know what to say, so Logan made a decision for you. 

“We should collect what we can and take it back to the Professor. And lock this place back up before some asshole decides that this place was a good idea.”

You took a breath and wiped away your tears. “You’re right.”

Whatever wasn’t burned or completely destroyed you either took back with you or took pictures. 

By the time you’d gathered what you could from the two smaller offices, you waited for Logan at the top of the stairs that overlooked where you’d both previously stood. 

After all those years wondering, after all the pain and fear and terror. After all those years of being alone, you finally had answered to what was before. In truth, you didn’t know if it helped. You could only hope that by walking inside, by having a confirmation to all the memories you’d been burdened with, the pain of not knowing would be gone. 

The pain from your head was gone. Even if it was replaced by a pain that came from the smell of the damp and the singe of ashes. 

“Ready to go?”

You took one final look around before looking back at Logan. “Ready?”

You led the way out before shutting out the lights and welding the lock back into place. 

It was odd, the feeling you got as you walked back into the cold and away from the bunker. You had a burning curiosity growing in your stomach and mind, but the coldness you’d felt before you’d walked inside, unsure of what to expect was slowly disappearing. 

You also knew the life you’d led. Only now you’d learned of a life you’d had before you made one of your own. No lab tech could take the life you made for yourself away from you. 

You and Logan pulled up at the school long after the sun had set. As you stepped out of your car, Logan switched the engine of his bike off and you rushed down the hallway where you found one light on at the end of the hallway. 

“Professor?”

He looked up with a smile. “Ah, you’re back. I must tell you, you’ve missed dinner but Hank has left two plates in the oven for you. All they need is warming up. Did you find what you were looking for?”

Looking away from Logan, you looked at the Professor. “And then some.”

As the hours passed, you’d come to an agreement with the Professor. Storm and Nightcrawler would go back to the base you’d been kept at. Perhaps they might find something that let them know there were other survivors. But other than that, your past would remain just that. The past. 

“I made a life for myself. The only one I’ve truly known. I’d like for it to stay that way. If I want more answers one day, I know where to go.”

The Professor agreed. “I’ll keep these files safe. I assume you’ve looked through them already?”

You nodded. “There’s a lot I’d rather not have remembered, but I got my closure.”

“Very well.”

Twenty minutes later, you and Logan were sitting down in the dim light of the kitchen eating your dinner. 

“Thank you for finding me today.” It felt a little awkward leaving your mouth in your voice. “And you’re right…about not having to be alone, so…thank you.”

Logan just graced you with a smile and a nod. “I meant it. You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

You didn’t know what to say so you just nodded and went back to eating. You and Logan remained in silence as you ate, washed and put away your plates. And as you both walked up towards your rooms, you took in the pictures that lined the walls. 

Previous students, past christmases, birthdays, sunday dinners. A plethora of memories scattered across the walls; all of which made you smile. 

All of which made you realise you might have done things alone for a long time, but you’d never truly been alone. Not only did you have friends, but you had an entire family behind you. 

One that would never leave you to be lonely, even when you wanted to be alone. 

[miniwheat77]

Machine. (König x Reader.)

!König is held captive, kidnapping, violence, mentions of test subjects, blood, gore, you’ve been warned, mentions of SA, proceed with caution!

It’s pitch black out. You’re the only one left out of a group of 5.

You retreated outside when the massacre started and you realized this was far larger than you thought it was going to be.

“We have intel that this group of terrorists kidnapped a Soldier from a military base in Germany. He was stationed there when they were ambushed and he was taken. They haven’t been able to track him until now, but we’ve gotten intel that he’s there. He goes by König.”

Your Captain’s words echo in your head. You were already so close. There was no going back now.

You take a deep breath. Trying to steady your racing heart. If he’s in there, and he’s alive. He can help you. It hard to force yourself to run into danger. You want to slow your heart but the fear of dying alongside your brothers sits like a weight on your chest. They shouldn’t have died like this. You needed to finish this for them.

You rest your hand on your chest. Taking a deep breath. You swallow hard, your collarbones aching because of how hard you’re breathing. You straighten yourself out, following along bushes and old outbuildings to keep yourself concealed. Picking off soldiers one by one. Once you’re sure the outside is clear, you’re onto the inside.

Your shoes pat against the cracked concrete outside. Crouched down and hugging the side of the building to hide away. You’re terrified but you have to do this. You push open the door, noticing a couple lone soldiers, taking them out with ease and moving in further. It’s dark inside. You find a couple of your men, no longer alive. They’re laid on the ground. Pools of blood surrounding them. You settle down for a second. Your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest and you know you have to calm down before you keep going. You grit your teeth. You sit up straight, pushing yourself further and further into the building. You come upon a door with a sign that says ‘Cell Block B.’

You push it open, stepping inside. Unsure if this is where you’ll find the missing soldier. You creep down the hallway, prison cells lining the walls. Some empty, some occupying dead prisoners. You keep forcing yourself to take in deep breaths. Just keep calm. You come to a cell at the end, and notice a man shackled to the wall. He’s got little to no room, and you can clearly see why. He’s massive.

“Hey.” You crouch down, gathering his attention. He turns to look at you. “What’s your name?” You ask. You’re whispering.

“König.” He breathes. You sigh, relief flooding through you.

“König.” You tilt your head, repeating his name. “I’m Sergeant Y/N Y/L/N. I’m stationed on a military base not far from this place, I’m here to get you out.” You start looking around for a key. König sits up. His eyes shine in the darkness and you can’t help but see a hood over his face. “The Captain keeps the keys in his office.” He nods. “Okay. I’ll be right back.” You breathe, continuing your way down the hallway, you see an office at the end of the corridor. There’s a man inside but he appears to be asleep. Luckily you have a silencer. You crack open the door, moving up behind him. You grasp a hold of him, firing into his skull and lowering him down to the ground quietly, tugging the keys off of his waistband. You freeze when you hear footsteps coming your way.

You huddle up against the wall, when the door opens you clench your eyes closed for a second. “What the hell?”

You lunge forward, tackling the man onto the ground, lining your gun up and fighting him, firing into his chest two times. Taking a deep breath. These soldiers were fucking endless.

You hurry back down the hallway, opening up König’s cell door. You step inside and begin unlocking the chains that shackle him to the floor and walls. He rubs his wrists painfully. “Are you well enough to use a gun?” You ask. He nods his head. You tilt your head, walking back into the office. You pass him a handgun and an assault rifle, watching him tuck the pistol into his waistband. Adjusting himself as he holds the rifle close to his chest. “Are there other soldiers?” You ask. He nods his head. “A few, they’re in other cell blocks.” You can’t help but notice his broken English, telling you that English isn’t his first language. You follow him as he makes his way out. “I can go get the other prisoners. We’ll be better off as five rather than two.” He nods. “Okay. I’ll go start clearing out other spaces.” You nod. You split up.

You make your way through more of the dark compound. Heart pounding in your chest. You hope König is well enough to get to those other prisoners without injury.

Just as you relax, you’re hit right in the face with the butt of a rifle. It stuns you, knocking you down. The man moves on top of you immediately and you start to fight back.

He overpowers you, pinning your arms up above your head.

He laughs menacingly.

“My my… look at you.” He grins. You can see it in the dark. “You’re the girl sneaking around killing everyone.” He breathes, inhaling deeply. He lowers himself down, inhaling your scent. You cry out, fighting against him. “Been a long time since I’ve seen a woman. He smirks. You swallow hard, fighting against him even harder. Clearly he did not have intentions to kill you.

He forces both of your hands together, pinning them above you with one hand. Lowering the other to his waistband. You squirm against him, crying out.

“No no no- stop! Get off of me!” You scream. He forces your legs open, moving himself between them. “No need to cry, nobody is going to help you.” He breathes.

You kick at him but he doesn’t budge.

You scream out, trying to force your hands away from him and he starts to unbutton his pants. Just as he’s about to expose himself, someone puts a gun to his head. He freezes up immediately. “Stand up.” The deep accented voice is soothing in your time of need. Once he’s off of you, you’re scrambling away. The other men König had gone to save helping you up from the floor, moving you away from him. “Hey- let’s talk about this.” The man holds his hands up in surrender.

“Brenn in der Hölle.”

A bullet penetrates his skull as König fires the gun. His head is throw back from the force of it. His body hits the ground with a thud and you flinch. “He’s the last one. We cleared out the rest.” Another one of the men says it. You nod your head. You can see now why they had König shackled so much. He’s massive, a killing machine. “I’ll lead you to exfil.” You pick your gun up off of the floor, hurrying out of the room before you get sick.

—

You’re staring ahead, they’ve patched you up the best they can. Your face took a good hit from his gun.

Once you’re good to go, you make your way into another tent. Seeing König is sitting on the edge of a cot. He’s in much worse shape than you. They’ve got him hooked up to a couple of IV’s. You make your way up to him. You can’t help but notice all of the marks on him. They almost look like track marks. “What did they do to you in there?” You ask. “To be honest… not sure.” He breathes. “They would come in and draw my blood. I know they wanted to clone me. But I’m not sure how. Most of the time I was unconscious.” He breathes. You nod your head. “I see why, you’re a good soldier.” You laugh.

He grasps your hand in his. “Thank you. For saving me.” He looks up at you.

“We’re even. You saved me too.” You look down.

“Are you alright, Schatz?” He asks. You nod your head. “I’ll be just fine.” You smile.

You sit down next to him. Ready for the whole story.

[thesilliestrovingalive]

Updated February 15, 2025

Dilovar

POTENTIAL TRIGGER: Viewer discretion is advised due to references to death, torture, slavery, child abuse, pedophilia, incest, necrophilia, SA, and human experimentation.

Real name: Dilovar Renatvych Matviyenko (born as Kosmas-9)

Alias: Beast of the Great Jungle

Nicknames: Divo and Niney

Occupation: 1st Lieutenant of Division 6, double agent for the Ptolemaic Army, Captain of the Phantom Strike, and cadet for the P.F. Squad (formerly)

Retirement plans: He has no plans outside of military service because he doesn't believe he'll survive long enough to make it to his retirement day

Special skills: Proficiency in nanotechnology and espionage work, mastery of the jungle, dream walking, and glamouring, negotiating peace treaties, spear throwing, and systema

Abilities: A network of translucent, vein-like tubes, coated with a thin layer of blood, cerebrospinal fluid, and fatty tissue, facilitates the nanobots' movement throughout his body. These tubes connect to his central nervous system, cardiovascular system, and muscular system. Once activated, the nanobots rapidly regenerate torn muscles and amplify his strength during combat, visibly evident by the pronounced bulging of his veins beneath his skin and the intense flexing of his muscles. It enhances his physical strength, enabling him to shatter concrete, crush bone, lift and toss trucks with ease, and effortlessly immobilise and disarm enemies with his immense grip strength. It grants him eagle vision, stabilises his blood pressure, and covers exposed skin with a protective, translucent layer of fleshy slime.

He can vomit acidic orange goo streaked with blood and bits of white adipose tissue by altering the pH levels in the food he's digested. This process involves synthesising pigments to create the orange hue and releasing specific enzymes that break down biomolecules, leading to the production of acidic compounds. The nanobots can manipulate enemy nanotechnology and assimilate incoming nano-attacks by reprogramming them.

He can harness the nanobots to alter his mental state, transforming into a far more menacing, feral, and sadistic persona. In this state, he exhibits erratic behaviour, marked by maniacal laughter, heavy panting, animalistic sounds, uncontrollable drooling, and foaming at the mouth. His physical strength increases, enabling him to tear through skin with his teeth and hands, leap across vast chasms with ease, and snap steel bars with a tightened grip. Despite his ferocious transformation, he retains a semblance of rational thought, enabling him to distinguish friend from foe and revert to a more sane state of mind at will.

Hobbies: River tracing, smoking his hookah, exploring ancient cities and old temples, reading and playing ero guro manga and video games, and doing traditional Ukrainian folk crafts with friends

Likes: Sleeping with his 36-year-old baby blanket, when he got the chance to test-drive the Black Hound, making friendship bracelets, liquidating enemies, and jungle wildlife

Dislikes: Hilde Garn, child molestation, gruesome sacrifices, people dictating his identity and life’s purpose, and being the ultimate killing machine for the Ptolemaic Army and Phantom Strike

Favourite food: Holubtsi with roasted bacon strips, jalapeno cheddar cream cheese, iron eggs, and garlic buttered poppy seed bublik

Favourite drink: Kaoliang liquor mixed with kvass

Sexuality: Sex-favourable, demiromantic pansexual

Gender: Male

Age: 15 (in 2022), 21 (in 2028), 23 (in 2030), 25 (in 2032), 27 (in 2034), 34 (in 2041), 36 (in 2043), 37 (in 2044), and 40 (in 2047)

Blood type: B-

Weight: 198 lbs. (89 kg)

Design: He’s a 6’ 4” (193.04 cm) Tajik-Ukrainian mesomorph of Taiwanese, Russian, and Arabic descent with a lean, powerful build, well-defined muscles, chiseled limbs, an upside-down trapezoidal chest, broad shoulders, a subtly rounded midsection, high cheekbones, and a Roman nose. He has copper-toned skin, pale azure eyes with flecks of mulberry, and three distinctive black moles: one near the right corner of his lip; a second directly below his Adam's apple; and a third above the centre of his right pectoral muscle. He has a slightly disheveled orangish-brown bowl cut with prominent curls and eye-covering bangs that fall just above the bridge of his nose.

He bears various scars, most of which he obtained in battle. These scars include: a severe grill burn covering the lower right quadrant of his face; a deep, downwards-curving gash that extends from the left corner of his lip to beneath his ear, revealing a portion of his teeth; whip lacerations and cut marks on his back and buttocks; a jagged scar running from the center of his right deltoid to his left lumbar region; a bullet graze mark on the center of the right side of his neck; and three bullet wounds located on his left kidney. In addition to these scars, his left thumb is entirely missing, the skin on his thighs has been flayed, he has a severed tendon (gastrocnemius) in his right lower leg, and a silvery stitch runs along his thoracic spinal segment. He has the name "Kosmas-9" branded sideways on his left upper arm from "K" to "9", which he attempts to conceal with worn gauze.

His military gear for the Regular Army consists of a metal dog tag necklace with his name, purple mountain majesty driving gloves, and two drop leg holsters for Fairbairn-Sykes fighting knives with jonquil straps. He sports a mauveine vest with four pockets, its original P.F. Squad logo on the back having been replaced by the Division 6 insignia. He wears a jonquil belt with a silvery white buckle, a sheath for his combat knife, a gun holster for his handgun, and an Islamic green scabbard engraved with the Orion constellation. He wields Zulfiqar, a saif sword with a dark blue hilt and wootz steel blade featuring a double-pointed tip. The weight of Zulfiqar is evenly distributed across the blade and hilt, allowing for optimal performance and enabling him to make swift, precise cuts. The blade is remarkably sharp, capable of cleaving through bone as well as the strongest vehicle and body armour.

He wears a cornflower-hued T-shirt with ripped sleeves and it features a stylised black silhouette of a running, ghostly horse encircling a sunflower with seven male Mikado pheasant tail feathers extending behind it, resembling rays of light. He wears dark green, greyish-brown, and charcoal camouflage army cargo pants, which are tucked into the same boots worn by Walter and Tyra. The pockets of Dilovar’s vest carry around a pearlescent green lighter, a note pad, a blue pen, and a pack of cherry-flavoured gum. The pockets of his army cargo pants carry around his old, tattered, and overused dirty grey baby blanket, a jadeite adder stone, and a flask of arak.

Over his T-shirt, he dons a Soldier Plate Carrier System (SPCS) with a MultiCam pattern, which carries around his walkie-talkie and ammo for other firearms. He wears three dark brown bandoliers: one over his right shoulder for his handgun bullets, one over his left shoulder for throwing knives, and one above his belt for hand grenades. He has a submachine gun with a jonquil clip-on web sling and a bolt-action sniper rifle slung over his right shoulder. Dilovar carries a purple mountain majesty load-bearing backpack that contains camping equipment, tactical explosives, portable ammo boxes, a canteen full of water, 5 bags of weed (cotton candy, sugar cookie, birthday cake, black cherry, and strawberry), a bottle of kaoliang liquor, a disguise kit, his Ptolemaic Army and Phantom Strike uniform, and a few throwing spears.

It carries a remote-controlled faux Atlas moth that was secretly designed to record conversations of interest. This device is a superior version of the insectothopter, able to overcome light winds due to its heavier size and a gas engine that lasts for 25 minutes. It carries a modified Fire Gun that’s used to release thick, metallic purplish-yellow clouds of nanobots at enemies. He can alter the properties of these nanobots to either take control of enemy actions for 6 minutes through verbal orders and thought processes or cause organ failure by emitting lethal amounts of methamphetamine, ethanol, and cyanide. It also carries a red-violet hookah, featuring a glass gourd-shaped vase adorned with two stylised golden wheat stalks encircling the centre of the body, a silvery bowl and tray, a black hose, and a pearlescent purple mouthpiece.

His military gear for the Ptolemaic Army and Phantom Strike consists of a black headset to communicate with snipers and an Improved Outer Tactical Vest (IOTV) in a caput mortuum, dark purple, and Byzantium camouflage pattern. He wears mauveine overalls modeled after those of the SWAT elite police unit with the Phantom Strike logo emblazoned on the back and the pant legs tucked into his boots. He wears dark purple knee pads and a pair of black combat boots featuring spiked jonquil soles and knives concealed in the heels. He wears a thistle-hued Eisenhower jacket, featuring purple mountain majesty cuffs edged with jonquil and golden buttons that are often left unbuttoned. He wears a gold-buckled leather belt with four silvery white pouches—two on the left and two on the right—which hold sticks of dynamite. Even in this uniform, he still has his bandoliers, drop leg holsters, combat knife sheath, gun holster, Zulfiqar, and other portable items on his person. His load-bearing backpack is replaced with a cornflower-hued one, and he dons a pair of dark purple tactical gloves.

He wears two personalised friendship bracelets. One features Walter's name in letter beads, paired with alternating olivine, ultramarine, and red-orange beads. The other bears Tyra's name, accompanied by alternating fuchsia, burgundy, and pinkish-orange beads. He wears red-violet boxer briefs and a medium sea green tank top. On his left wrist, he wears a customised Rolex GMT-Master II wristwatch, featuring purple gold accents instead of the traditional Everose gold or yellow gold.

As a reward for successfully completing his mission during the Survival Island Occupation as well as a belated birthday gift from his father, he received a Metal Strider, the same model used by Hilde Garn. However, his Metal Strider features a pearlescent purple finish and a silver-grey chassis.

Character summary: He feels profound shame about adhering to the religious beliefs of Ptolemaios' cult, which he views as perverted and malevolent. Their beliefs promote aggressive militarism, nihilism, and depravity, and he wants to distance himself from them. Owning Zulfiqar further compelled him to turn to Islam, seeking a more positive and morally righteous faith. However, he keeps his Islamic faith hidden from the Ptolemaic Army, fearing they will label him a traitor and ridicule him for abandoning their beliefs. Internally, he struggles with doubts about whether Islam is the right fit for him, torn between conflicting beliefs and values. 

He feels profound sympathy and concern for children who were subjected to abuse and exploitation as well as the victims of the Ptolemaic Army's brutality. He’s quick to offer comfort, while also nurturing his strong desire for justice and accountability, ensuring those responsible face consequences. Although he's intellectually brilliant, his curiosity knows no bounds as he's still learning about many things, ranging from appropriate social norms to current political and ecological events. This is the result of extreme helicopter parenting and being indoctrinated into the Ptolemaic Army's depraved and oppressive ideology with the influences of a strict military upbringing and limited access to knowledge. He despises being called "Niney" in a teasing or joking manner because he finds it insensitive and it reminds him of his birth name, which he feels is dehumanising.

He's calculating and sly, using his wit to get himself out of tricky situations, manipulate targets into cooperating with him, and predict his opponents' next moves through careful observation of their behaviour. He's prudently watchful, staying on high alert for danger, keeping a close eye out for traitors, and taking deliberate action at the right moment to ensure tasks are completed effectively. He's a lively, fairly open-minded person who attempts to mask his inherent pessimism with excessive optimism and a radiant, gentle smile. He has a quirky sense of humour, ranging from lighthearted and hilarious to dark and bewildering. However, it can sometimes border on uncomfortable weirdness.

When he's in a goofy and happy mood, he becomes quite flamboyant, cracking jokes, flirting shamelessly, and engaging in playful antics. He loves rock music and super catchy, girly pop songs, often singing along to them at the top of his lungs. When intoxicated, he’s prone to temper tantrums, exhibits overly lascivious behaviour towards anyone who catches his attention, and becomes attention-seeking, extremely clingy, jovial, and boisterous. Despite being incredibly intimidating and capricious, he’s a surprisingly respectful, well-mannered, and affectionate peace negotiator. While he can be compassionate and easy-going, he’s also capable of apathy and has a quick temper, particularly when he feels paranoid. Furthermore, he struggles with uncontrollable aggressive outbursts and flashes of intense arrogance and lust.

He's fiercely independent and often prefers to work alone, but will team up with others when he deems it necessary. He’s extremely obedient and reliable, being able to keep secrets and easily follow instructions without rarely questioning them. Furthermore, he's stubbornly determined and hardworking, tirelessly pursuing his goals and fulfilling his duties. There are rare moments where he’ll rebel, especially when it feels as though things are being taken too far or something might actually put his friends’ lives in danger for no reason. As a thrill-seeker, he’s absolutely drawn to danger, which fills him with exhilaration and a sense of being truly alive. He's a sadomasochist driven by intensely heightened killer instincts and an unrelenting thirst for bloodlust. Additionally, he exhibits occasional voyeuristic tendencies and experiences vivid sexual fantasies that evoke strong arousal and deep-seated confusion.

Despite his unimaginable fearlessness, he has a deep-seated fear of punishment, making mistakes (no matter how minor they are), and abandonment by those he cares about. He's not particularly fond of people asking about his personal life and would firmly tell them not to ask such questions. However, he'll make an exception if he realises the person is trustworthy or if he believes sharing the information won't have significant consequences. He craves emotional and physical intimacy, but struggles to express his true feelings due to a fear of rejection. Although he often comes across as superficial, he rarely intends to be shallow. Instead, he struggles to genuinely express his true emotions and grasp complex, overwhelming feelings like heartbreak. His ultimate desire is to break free from his obligations to the Ptolemaic Army, discover his true purpose and identity in life, and find people who will love and accept him for who he is unconditionally.

He lives with PTSD, prosopagnosia, and bipolar disorder, which manifests in major depressive episodes that significantly impact his daily life and manic episodes that cause him to disconnect from reality. As a result of bipolar disorder, he struggles with overwhelming sadness, a profound loss of pleasure, and intense anxiety stemming from the fear of losing control. He’s a lucid dreamer that experiences sleepwalking episodes, which involves aggressive outbursts and bouts of crying during his sleep. Despite considering them trusted comrades, he harbours nihilistic, cynical, and indifferent views towards most people in the Regular Army, Rebel Army, Amadeus Syndicate, and Ptolemaic Army as well as humanity as a whole. Whenever he encounters a pair of glowing red eyes, he believes he's being haunted by a restless spirit sent by the Avatar of Evil to carefully monitor his movements. This deeply unsettles him, and he wishes it would leave him alone forever. However, he realises this wish is futile, so he tries to ignore it by pretending it's just a foolish hallucination.

Due to being able to speak Quechua, it aided him in being on excellent terms with the South Pacific P’isqu Runakuna ("bird people" in Quechua) and Brazilian Nina Runakuna ("fire people" in Quechua). He empathises with their struggles of feeling exploited and misunderstood by others, and goes out of his way to assist them. He regards them as family because they welcome him into their community and reciprocate the respect he shows them. He doesn't care about Ptolemaios' deputies because he views them as "blind and moronic dogs" that only serve to please him and satisfy their own darkest desires. However, he secretly admires Anastasia and 1st Lieutenant Wired, viewing them as the most sane and human deputies compared to the others.

He harbours intense disdain for his father, Colonel Hilde Garn, due to the physical, verbal, and sexual abuse he suffers at his hands in private. However, he's afraid to defy him due to the numerous times he has been severely punished for doing so. He simply wishes that his father could treat him with genuine love and not view him merely as a killing machine and an heir to fulfill his role once he's gone. He feels most appreciated and cherished by his father when he praises him for his mission successes and recognizes his capabilities as a great fighter, which encourages him to be his best and try to please him. Strangely enough, this desire to please his father and gain his undivided attention and love has led to him developing a negative Oedipus complex at a young age, which remains unresolved. This fuels his neurosis, filling him with obsessive thoughts about brutally murdering his father and making love to his mangled corpse.

He’s close friends with Walter and Tyra, who were the first people to make him feel human and treat him with love, respect, and acceptance. Around them, he feels comfortable being himself, but if they express discomfort, he respects their boundaries, giving them space or stopping whatever caused the issue because he doesn't want to jeopardise their friendship. He’s fiercely protective of Walter and Tyra, willing to sacrifice his own needs to ensure their safety, happiness, and comfort. With their help and support, he was able to make a couple of friends and acquaintances with people like Gimlet, Allen Jr., and Nathalie. He cherishes every moment spent with those who bring joy and vitality to his life, such as Ralf and Hyakutaro.

Tyra's past abuse at the hands of the Ptolemaic Army evokes deep sorrow and fuels his intense hatred and desire for righteous vengeance against his employers. He’s deeply infatuated with Tyra, drawn to her gentleness towards him, the respectful manner in which she comforts him, and her remarkable bravery and steadfast independence. He’s the most affectionate with Tyra, often showering her with warm hugs and gentle nuzzles, as he feels profoundly safe and unconditionally loved in her presence. He has romantic feelings for Walter, but he's unsure how to express them and fears his emotions won't be reciprocated. He skillfully conceals his romantic interest in both Tyra and Walter, unsure of how to navigate these emotions or determine if his feelings for them are genuinely rooted in romance.

He maintains a neutral stance on morality, recognizing its inherent subjectivity. Nevertheless, he advocates for personal autonomy in determining right and wrong, allowing individuals to draw inspiration from others as needed. He believes that warfare is a futile and destructive tactic employed by political and militant powers to eliminate opposition and impose their national, moral, and personal ideologies. In his opinion, war instills fear in civilians, demonstrating the brutality of violence, expansionism, and capitalist greed. He believes that life and death are inseparable and interdependent, necessary for the universe's continued existence. To him, worldly life serves as a test of a person's moral character, encouraging individuals to accumulate good deeds and avoid evil, lest they face eternal damnation. Furthermore, he thinks that every person's death is predetermined, and upon passing, they embark on a journey into the afterlife, where their soul is ultimately reabsorbed into the universe.

Backstory: Kosmas-9 was born on June 25, 2007 in Kholodnyi Yar, Ukraine. His mother gave birth to him in the guest room of his father’s mansion, which was located in a remote area far from any major Ukrainian cities. His father, Renat Matviyenko, also known by his codename "Hilde Garn”, is a Ukrainian of Russian and Taiwanese descent. A highly respected and feared Colonel in the Regular Army, he possesses unmatched expertise in guerrilla warfare, honed from his experience as a high-ranking mercenary for the Theophylaktos Union. His mother, Farzona Qurbonova, is a Tajik of Arabic descent and a communications specialist and weapons technician for the Regular Army. She secretly works as a masked soldier, serving as a double agent and an expert in ancient technology for Ptolemaios' cult.

He’s the ninth attempt at a perfected clone for Colonel Hilde Garn because the previous ones were deemed failures. Due to visible deformities, high levels of defiance and impulsivity, and severe psychosis, they were terminated and improved upon in subsequent clones with the goal of creating one that more closely resembled its parent. Although Kosmas-9 was born with a couple of physical differences due to his mother’s DNA slightly mixing with Hilde Garn's dominant genetic code, his father considered him a success. He was glad that his plan to model the perfect heir was now in motion after eight failed attempts. Farzona would aid in Hilde Garn's plans for Kosmas-9, seeing him as a potential asset for Ptolemaios' ambitions.

As a result of inheriting his father's inhuman genes, he proved to be a remarkably intelligent child, despite lacking certain physical characteristics typical of a Tuatha Dé Danann descendant. At just two months old, he uttered his first words: "tato" and "maty". By the age of 1, he could identify all European countries without referencing a map and accurately pronounce their names. When he turned 4-years-old, he would sneak into his father's private office to read books on war history and a rare volume featuring international gun catalogues. Before his 7th birthday, Dilovar demonstrated a profound understanding of the philosophies surrounding morality and war as well as distinctive perspectives on life and death. At 8, he began seeing a pair of glowing red eyes and believed he was being haunted by an evil spirit, but he kept quiet about it, fearing harsh scolding.

Not wanting to continuously call him Kosmas-9, Farzona gave him the name Dilovar Renatvych Matviyenko in honor of his remarkable bravery and his lineage as the direct biological son of a well-seasoned military officer. She treated him with profound tenderness and consistently love bombed him, making him feel extremely special. She rarely scolded him for the mischievous and disturbing things he did, such as drawing on the walls with crayons and breaking the neck of a wounded wood lark she had brought in to care for. This was because she believed he could do no wrong and sought to shape him into the perfect servant for the Avatar of Evil. At midnight, she would sneak into his room and inappropriately touch him, claiming it was okay and that she was only showing him affection.

Hilde Garn was the exact opposite, preferring to address him by Kosmas-9 because he sought to distance himself from his son until he proved worthy of the name his mother had given him. However, on occasion, he would affectionately refer to him as Divo, particularly on days when his son exhibited good behaviour and successfully completed his assigned tasks. He was cold and distant, reserving praise and physical affection for instances where his son performed flawlessly. Despite this, he took his son's military training seriously, teaching him valuable skills such as hand-to-hand combat, safe handling of dangerous weaponry, survival techniques, and basic first aid. To broaden Dilovar’s experience, he often brought him to classified meetings, providing a glimpse into tactical planning and high-level military briefings. At the age of 5, Hilde Garn taught Dilovar all the Slavic languages, Taiwanese, Chinese, and some Arabic, which he quickly grasped without major difficulties.

When Farzona was away at work, his father would often subject him to physical, verbal, and sexual abuse. He would viciously berate him, using derogatory terms to belittle him and unleashing wrathful, long-winded lectures. These tirades would focus on his perceived inadequacies with his father berating him as a disgrace and pathetic for failing to follow instructions, particularly during training sessions on handling weapons or completing everyday tasks like chopping vegetables or doing laundry. When he became extremely angry with Dilovar, he would throw him into his bedroom, lock the door, pin him to the floor, and either smash his head with alcohol bottles or strangle him to the point of difficulty breathing during the sexual assault, while also verbally degrading him.

On one occasion, Hilde Garn caused his son to suffer a grill burn by pushing his face into the flaming hot grill when he became frustrated with Dilovar's struggles to flip an expensive steak. He also carved Dilovar’s designation name into the skin of his upper arm with his mother’s ceremonial dagger as a constant reminder of his perceived identity and purpose. He would manipulate his son into believing that the abuse was a sign of love and care, attempting to normalise the behavior, but Dilovar intuitively knew it was wrong.

Although he didn't fully trust his mother due to her non-consensual touching, he found the most comfort in her. She was the only parent who showed him affection, even though she never intervened to stop Hilde Garn's abuse. Whenever his father was away, Farzona would praise Dilovar after he successfully completed a task, adorn his hair with flowers, and bake delicious desserts with him. She also sparked his interest in arts and crafts, which led him to try traditional Ukrainian crafts that his mother had taught him. His mother had learned these crafts during her time in Ukraine. Notably, he was able to replicate each craft with very few errors. Farzona taught him about ancient cultures and technologies, the esoteric beliefs of the Ptolemaic Army, magical disciplines that fascinated him, and how to efficiently complete his chores.

His parents heavily restricted him from leaving the Matviyenko mansion, fearing that outside influences would undo their hard work and change him into a completely different person. However, he was permitted to venture outdoors and walk around the courtyard and backyard. The only visitors he regularly encountered at the mansion were Hilde Garn's aide-de-camps, Lieutenant Colonel Macba and 1st Lieutenant Wired. He harboured a strong dislike for Macba, who frequently subjected him to aggressive teasing and snarky comments. In contrast, he found Wired tolerable because he treated him with respect and kindness, despite his stoic and weary demeanour.

His mother would mysteriously disappear from his life, filling him with dread as he didn’t want to be stuck with his father. However, Hilde Garn managed to manipulate him into believing that his mother abandoned him because she never truly loved him. He also told Dilovar that his mother was only manipulating him, so she could use him for nefarious purposes, potentially planning to sacrifice him to a malevolent deity or condemn him to the "slave pens" when he reached early adolescence. This revelation deeply shocked him, who was grieving and struggling to accept her disappearance. He became disdainful towards his mother for taking advantage of him. As a result, he grew more accustomed to his father and learned to somewhat love and appreciate him, grateful that he hadn't abandoned him and was actually taking care of him. His father also became somewhat less abusive and more affectionate, although he remained somewhat aloof and would occasionally distance himself from Dilovar.

Shortly after the Ptolemaic Army's detrimental failure against the Regular Army in the Arms Deal Barrage, Hilde Garn introduced Dilovar to Ptolemaios. Although Ptolemaios was initially distrustful, he came to respect Dilovar as the biological son of Hilde Garn, one of his official deputies, and Farzona, one of his trusted and well-liked masked soldiers. As the son of a masked soldier, the cult lavished him with affection and praise. They believed he was worthy of their attention due to his supposed innate "sacred connection" to the Avatar of Evil, which was a result of his birth to a fertile and dedicated masked soldier. The cult would complete the indoctrination process his mother started during his young child years, fully immersing him into their beliefs and values. To achieve this, they isolated him from his father and potential comrades by taking him on a weekend retreat to a secret compound located on the outskirts of the Soursop Jungle. They taught him Quechua and introduced him to the Nina Runakuna, which would lead to a strong mutual bond with the Brazilian tribe.

Seeing great potential in him, Hilde Garn would be granted permission by Ptolemaios to put him through scientific experiments. These experiments included testing the nanotechnology that the Ptolemaic Army received from the Martians. His memories of these experiments are very hazy because he was often drugged with hallucinogens and anesthesia to distract him from what was happening. He can only recall that they injected nanobots into his spinal cord and the muscles of his thighs, and it was incredibly painful. It felt like his blood was flaring up, his skin was being crudely peeled off, and his muscles were painfully spasming. After the experiments were finished, he was put under rigorous training to hone his mastery over nanotechnology.

During his time in the Ptolemaic Army and Phantom Strike, he was utilised to eliminate traitors, conduct investigations into potential strategic locations and threats, breed new cultists and soldiers, and satisfy the sexual desires of the masked soldiers. His exceptional tactical prowess, strong work ethic, and fierce independence earned him a swift promotion to Captain of the Phantom Strike. Many of the female masked soldiers took a particular liking to him, citing his impressive physique and masculine charm. One of them even gifted him Zulfiqar as a sign of genuine respect and a gesture of admiration. Rumors circulated within the Ptolemaic Army that Zulfiqar was either a divine gift from the Avatar of Evil or the result of an abandoned Martian experiment in swordsmithing, fearing its power could thwart their future conquests. Upon discovering Zulfiqar's origins in the Islamic faith, he converted to Islam, but kept his new faith hidden from the Ptolemaic Army.

After receiving intel from an abyssal masked soldier with a contingent of special forces operatives about the P’isqu Runakuna being located on a South Pacific island belonging to the Peregrine Falcons Squad, Ptolemaios and Hilde Garn decided that Dilovar should serve as a double agent. They hoped to leverage his skills to gather important, classified information about the Regular Army, which they could use once the Ptolemaic Army was prepared to launch its conquest. As Dilovar had no existing files, since Hilde Garn wanted to keep him a classified secret, his father forged his Social Insurance Number and birth certificate, and intentionally included false information. Specifically, his birth year was changed from 2007 to 2010, making him the perfect age to join the Peregrine Falcons Squad's cadet program. His school files were also forged to present himself as a worthy candidate for the Peregrine Falcons Squad. He also opened a bank account in Dilovar's name, depositing substantial sums of money into it each time he successfully completed a mission.

At age 22 (though his forged birth certificate listed him as 18), Dilovar was officially accepted into the Peregrine Falcons Squad after acing the written test with a perfect score. He was quickly assigned to the "misfit batch" due to his violent outbursts and manic highs, which often unsettled those around him. His misanthropic view of his fellow cadets, combined with his inhuman abilities, unnatural tactical expertise, and unyielding independence, made him a poor fit for the traditional cadet groups. He befriended Tyra and Walter, going out of his way to teach them important tactical skills like knife fighting and grenade deployment. As he did, he slowly began to trust his fellow cadets, seeing them as worthy and respectable allies. Through them, his eyes were opened to the corruption and moral ambiguity of the Ptolemaic Army, which proved to be far more flawed than he had initially believed.

Each training course was a walk in the park for him, but he decided to spice things up by teaching himself systema, a popular Russian martial art. Meanwhile, he covertly stole classified documents, accessed restricted data on building Slugs, and pilfered weaponry from the Regular Army. His two drill instructors didn't pay much attention to him because he outperformed the rest of the "misfit batch". However, the female instructor took a particular liking to him, showing him both flirtatious attention and maternal warmth in private. He eventually had a brief sexual affair with her, and in return, she shared valuable intelligence on the geography, flora, and fauna of the South Pacific archipelago, a region that would serve as the final training ground for the P.F. Squad cadets.

Upon arriving at the South Pacific archipelago with his fellow cadets, he plunged headfirst into the jungle. Venturing in alone, he utilised his weaponry and rations, which he had discreetly obtained from a Ptolemaic Army special forces operative before boarding the PA33-21 Boat. During this time, he honed his skills in navigating the jungle, developing a deep understanding of its biodiversity and geography. He was overjoyed to have the chance to work and explore in a jungle setting for the first time rather than just attending military meetings with Ptolemaic Army soldiers or taking solitary walks with high-ranking officials.

While trekking through the jungle to practice his stealth skills and locate food and water sources, he stumbled upon a group of P’isqu Runakuna children being surrounded by Rebel Army extremists and bikers, who intended to use them as hostages. The children's plight reminded him of the Nina Runakuna, and he felt compelled to help. He quickly subdued the Rebels, choosing to knock them unconscious and scare them off with warnings rather than causing them harm. Overjoyed and grateful, the children explained that while chasing a Pacific swallow, they had become lost and inadvertently stumbled upon the "scary armed men". He escorted them back to their village safely, earning the community's gratitude for his bravery and humility. Over the next couple of days, he assisted the villagers with hunting and construction projects while learning about their culture, which led to them seeing him as a friend.

During his time with the P’isqu Runakuna, he discovered that they possessed a mysterious monolith bearing cryptic writing that detailed ancient knowledge about the Avatar of Evil and Sol Dae Rokker. He persuaded them to take him to the monolith, and they agreed. Dilovar sailed with a group of P’isqu Runakuna villagers to a remote area of the South Pacific archipelago, seeking to fulfill his request to visit the enigmatic monolith. However, upon arrival, the villagers were brutally massacred by Rebel Infantrymen, who had established a makeshift hideout in the area. The Rebels, residing in their half-finished "dungeon”, captured Dilovar. Recognising him as the man their superior had mentioned, the Rebel soldiers promptly transported him via helicopter to an abandoned building located beneath a staircase in a ruined area, near the jungle entrance. There, Dilovar discovered that his female drill instructor was secretly a Rebel ally named Sagan.

Sagan forcibly confined him to a cramped cage, and Dilovar offered little resistance, finding the situation oddly amusing and exciting. He was interrogated by her, who sought information about his purpose, army allegiance, and any valuable technology, weaponry or expertise his army possessed. Despite her offers of sexual favors and comfortable treatment, Dilovar remained resolute in his silence. When coercion failed, Sagan resorted to stripping him bare, subjecting him to whipping and cutting, and even amputating his thumb. The ordeal culminated in Dilovar being forced to witness the gruesome executions of a small handful of P.F. Squad cadets. Yet, throughout the torture, he refused to share any confidential information, remaining oblivious to Sagan's true intentions. He would often engage in playful teasing with Sagan, attempt to initiate conversations with suggestive undertones, make threats of death and rape during explosive outbursts of aggression or offer respectful compliments on her appearance.

One night, while Sagan was absent, two Rebel bodyguards were tasked to carefully watch over Dilovar. Seizing an opportunity, he cleverly deceived them into opening his cage, pretending he needed to relieve himself. Unbeknownst to the guards, Dilovar had secretly managed to free his wrists from the ropes. As the bodyguards unlocked the cage, Dilovar swiftly activated his feral persona and launched a ferocious attack, mutilating the guards. He then gathered his belongings and navigated his way back to the P’isqu Runakuna. Once he found their village, he began formulating a plan to launch a counterattack against the Rebel forces.

He, alongside Hyakutaro and Issenmantaro, fought the Shoe tank before the entrance of the Rebel Army's latest base of operations after receiving intel from Rumi that Sagan was around. After destroying the tank and forcing the surviving contingent of Rebel soldiers to surrender, they learned that Sagan was devising an escape plan and used the Shoe tank as a decoy. Although he considered taking drastic action against the pilot, Torquil, to satisfy his bloodlust, Hyakutaro advised against it, stating it wasn't worth their time. He spared Torquil's life after the pilot offered encouraging compliments, showing respect for Dilovar and his team's tactical prowess, and revealed the location of the Cabracan.

Once the Survival Island Occupation was over, he bid farewell to the P’isqu Runakuna and promised to visit them again. Following the incident, Dilovar graduated with top honors alongside Walter and Tyra. He then joined Division 6, having accepted Hyakutaro's invitation, and rose to the rank of 1st Lieutenant. During his visit to the Ptolemaic Army’s compound in Osaka, Japan, he secretly shared the location of the Monoeyes monolith and key information about the P’isqu Runakuna, including their fighting style and beliefs, with Ptolemaios and his deputies. They decided to allow him to continue working as a double agent, seeking to gain insight into the Regular Army and their latest special forces unit, Division 6.

[antlersofthevoid]

Dust From The Past: Chapter 1 - Conspiracy

//SURPRIIIISEE It's here!! Song from the Act 1 Playlist is: 'Kara Main Theme'

CONSOLIDATED ANDROID NO 001

SYSTEM START….

Initializing…

.

.

.

Complete.

Data Blackbox : ONLINE

Audio Processors : ONLINE

Adjusting Optics…

Internal Systems : OPERATIONAL

.

.

Its eyes opened—not smoothly, but with the sharp precision of a camera shutter snapping into action, introducing it to the world for the first time. For a moment, it’s vision was a blur of bright fluorescent lights and pristine concrete walls to match.

But just as quickly as the shutter had snapped, the world came into focus.

The room was cold and quiet, save for the humming of the lights above it, and a distant conversation a few rooms over.

Cold air hit the few parts of it’s metal arms and legs that remained exposed by the strange article of gray clothing that covered most of its body, and the robot wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

…It could feel..?

It could….think…?

An involuntary twitch moved the digits of its left hand as an android on another table awoke.

It wasn’t sure how just yet, but something told it that they were different from each other. This one was taller, and based on the few strands of synthetic black hair that it could see curling around its face in the corner of its optics, as compared to the cherry red hair of the new one, the differences were intentional.

“Are they going to work, or not?”

A new sound made both of them turn their attention to the only way out of the room, staring with pure curiosity as two new figures entered.

Humans. A short one in a lab coat with glasses and long, scruffy black hair that had been tied back in a ponytail, and a tall one, a brunette with neatly trimmed hair and a fancy business suit.

“I told you they will, you just have to give them time-”

And then they stopped. Both androids made eye contact with the men.

“...Francis, what is this?”

The tall one glared at the shorter one- who the two androids assumed was Francis.

“Sir, I told you.” The shorter one pushed his glasses back onto his nose. “I took some creative liberties with the project-”

The tall one stepped towards the two androids, a displeased expression on his face. The two androids shared a look of confusion. Had they already done something wrong?

Francis pointed towards the red-haired one.

“These are the two prototypes. That’s Vex.”

The displeased taller human rolled his eyes.

“You NAMED them?”

Francis ignored him, gesturing towards the black-haired one.

“And that’s Jamie.”

“I didn’t ask you for PETS.”

The tall one spun on his heels to face Francis.

“I asked you for MACHINES. TOOLS. Not dress-up toys!”

Jamie. So that was its name!

Jamie…

…Yeah, it liked that name.

“These ARE your machines. I just took us a step further in the project and put us in a brand new direction.”

Jamie glanced at Vex, who had turned their attention to something in the corner of the room. A bug, maybe?

“What the hell are you talking about, Francis?”

Francis moved to Jamie’s side, waving a hand in front of the android enthusiastically.

“Just think! First, we start with clearing out the mine- show everyone what they can do-”

“And?”

“And then, we move UP! Think of all the jobs these guys could take! We could reduce the rate of unnecessary work deaths! If there isn’t a REAL person working the job, there are no liabilities!”

…what the heck were they talking about?

The tall one thought for a moment, before nodding and flashing Francis a smile. Jamie wasn’t sure if it was a genuine one, or a sinister smile.

“I like your thinking, Francis.”

“Here, and you can even take one of the prototypes! Test it out, let it work around the office- send it to go fetch papers or something. Your choice.”

..what was going to happen to the other one?

“Give me the red one.” The taller one spoke without hesitation. “You can put the other one in storage for now. We’ll keep it for the showcase.”

The two androids shared a look of confusion and…another emotion that neither really knew of yet. Had Jamie done something wrong? Had Vex done something? What was going to happen to Jamie?

It felt a hand brush against the sensors on it’s face before it’s vision focused again. Only Francis and Jamie remained in the room.

It stayed perfectly still as his hand moved to the back of it’s neck, doing something with the control panel between it’s shoulders.

And then it finally spoke. It took a few crackles and confused attempts at words, before Jamie finally got the words out of their processor.

“....Did i…..do something..wrong..?”

Francis shook his head, smiling at the robot.

“No, no, sweet girl, you’re just..”

It- no.. she, tilted her head.

“It’s just not your time to shine yet, is all.”

SYSTEM POWER SWITCH OFF.

10 SECONDS TO SHUTDOWN.

“You’re alright.”

She found his words oddly assuring, a confirmation that her simple existence hadn’t been an immediate failure.

“You’ll get your chance again, Jamie.”

5 SECONDS…

The camera lens closed again. She didn’t want to fade back into nothingness again, but she had no choice.

“...They’ll love you. I know they all will.”

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Y̵̴̷̵̵̡̧̧̛̼̱͎̠̜̘͍̘̥̣̩̰͔͉ͣ̑ͩ͒ͣ̐̍̾́̈́̅͊̎̀̽͐͊͟͡͠ͅͅơ̧̨̝̼̦̱̰͈͍̙͆͋͒̔̂ͭ̎̑̿̈́͋̂̓̀̐̀̋ͤ͗̑̆̄̕͢͢͠͞ͅụ̷̵̢̭̠͕͈͚̾͋̆̾̿͗͑̌͒̽ͨ̇͒ͦ͞_͕̘̗͔̻̽̓̎͊̊ͯ̂'̪͈̞̙͛̀ͪͬͦ̚r͓̝̖̈́̔ͦ́͌_̡̨̪͍̩̳͙̲̤̳̰ͤ̂̒ͥ̊ͭ͛ͫ͘_̡̼̝͇̘͙̟ͥ͊͋ͤͥ͌̇̕͠͡e̷̸̢̢̜̦̝̝͎͔̩͍̤͍͍͔̹͔̞̯͋͆͐͆ͯͮ͊̋̂̌ͫ͋̿̀́ͮͦ͌̑ͩ͆͟͜͞ͅͅ d̴̸̢̻̙͚̬̩̳̳͍͕̪̗̾̐̓̒͛̑̀ͮ͠ͅͅŗ̵̷̷̴̶̡̱͉͚͉̠̹̟̘͉͖͉͙̍̈̋ͦ͗̔̋́̈̋ͩ̑ͮ̒̏͌͋͐ͥ͌̕͘̕̚͟͡ͅͅe̵̷̶̝̭̭͈̦̜̟̺̮̻̠̦̲̩̫͍ͪ͊̃́̉͆̊͛͗̌̎̃̐̿̂́̏̔̚͘ą͕̯̭͎ͧ̌̃͐ͭ̊ͫ̋͊ͫ̚͢͝m̵̴͇̜̟̠͊̀̕ͅi̴̠̫̼̻͎ͦͥ͛ͩ̔̊ͩ̕͟͠n̗g̷̴̗̖̖̗̦̻̲͕̺̜͕ͯͩ̄̂̈́̉̈̽̅̾̈́͊̃ͩ̋̾ͧͭ̚̚͜͞ͅ a̴̭͇̤̦̻̜̼ͦ̌ͫ̇̾̚ͅ_̶̢̰̦͉͍̙̙̭ͨͨ̾ͣ͂͒ͥ͋̋́̿ͦ͘͟͡g̶̝̖͍̰̹̥̦͎̬͍̼̰̒̏ͦ̑̊͗̽̒��̨͎̊ͪ̃ͧ͛͢a̝͙̮̎̑̽̚ì̧̺̲̼̤̏ͦͮͥ͛ͩ̕ņ̰̫̰̯̪̦̲͇̺̺̗̲̙̲̹̳ͬͮ̀̏ͩ͂̄ͭ̽̍͊̓͑̀͒̉̄̉ͣ̒̚̕̕͘͜͡.̴̸̞̪̥̭͇̥͔͖͖̬̻͈̮ͥͤͥ̋̇ͮ̓̄̆ͣ̊͘͜͜͟͟

W̫͖͎̝͇̮ͬ̅ͪ̄̍̀̎̋̌ͬ̕ͅa̷̖̣ͯ̃͌k̷̰̦̤̳̖̮̥͔̽ͯ́̈́̈́ͧ̂͛̑̔̋͂ͭ͊̕͝ẹ̙̯̬̘̠̙̘̰͕̒̌ͣ̊̃ͮ̃̇ͥ̈_̱ ṳ̸̧̩̘̙͍̱̋͋̀_̲͊̾̑̕͜p̮̰̦̟ͮ̿̈́̅̏

W̫͖͎̝͇̮ͬ̅ͪ̄̍̀̎̋̌ͬ̕ͅa̷̖̣ͯ̃͌k̷̰̦̤̳̖̮̥͔̽ͯ́̈́̈́ͧ̂͛̑̔̋͂ͭ͊̕͝ẹ̙̯̬̘̠̙̘̰͕̒̌ͣ̊̃ͮ̃̇ͥ̈_̱ ṳ̸̧̩̘̙͍̱̋͋̀_̲͊̾̑̕͜p̮̰̦̟ͮ̿̈́̅̏

W̫͖͎̝͇̮ͬ̅ͪ̄̍̀̎̋̌ͬ̕ͅa̷̖̣ͯ̃͌k̷̰̦̤̳̖̮̥͔̽ͯ́̈́̈́ͧ̂͛̑̔̋͂ͭ͊̕͝ẹ̙̯̬̘̠̙̘̰͕̒̌ͣ̊̃ͮ̃̇ͥ̈_̱ ṳ̸̧̩̘̙͍̱̋͋̀_̲͊̾̑̕͜p̮̰̦̟ͮ̿̈́̅̏ W̫͖͎̝͇̮ͬ̅ͪ̄̍̀̎̋̌ͬ̕ͅa̷̖̣ͯ̃͌k̷̰̦̤̳̖̮̥͔̽ͯ́̈́̈́ͧ̂͛̑̔̋͂ͭ͊̕͝ẹ̙̯̬̘̠̙̘̰͕̒̌ͣ̊̃ͮ̃̇ͥ̈_̱ ṳ̸̧̩̘̙͍̱̋͋̀_̲͊̾̑̕͜p̮̰̦̟ͮ̿̈́̅̏ W̫͖͎̝͇̮ͬ̅ͪ̄̍̀̎̋̌ͬ̕ͅa̷̖̣ͯ̃͌k̷̰̦̤̳̖̮̥͔̽ͯ́̈́̈́ͧ̂͛̑̔̋͂ͭ͊̕͝ẹ̙̯̬̘̠̙̘̰͕̒̌ͣ̊̃ͮ̃̇ͥ̈_̱ ṳ̸̧̩̘̙͍̱̋͋̀_̲͊̾̑̕͜p̮̰̦̟ͮ̿̈́̅̏ W̫͖͎̝͇̮ͬ̅ͪ̄̍̀̎̋̌ͬ̕ͅa̷̖̣ͯ̃͌k̷̰̦̤̳̖̮̥͔̽ͯ́̈́̈́ͧ̂͛̑̔̋͂ͭ͊̕͝ẹ̙̯̬̘̠̙̘̰͕̒̌ͣ̊̃ͮ̃̇ͥ̈_̱ ṳ̸̧̩̘̙͍̱̋͋̀_̲͊̾̑̕͜p̮̰̦̟ͮ̿̈́̅̏ W̫͖͎̝͇̮ͬ̅ͪ̄̍̀̎̋̌ͬ̕ͅa̷̖̣ͯ̃͌k̷̰̦̤̳̖̮̥͔̽ͯ́̈́̈́ͧ̂͛̑̔̋͂ͭ͊̕͝ẹ̙̯̬̘̠̙̘̰͕̒̌ͣ̊̃ͮ̃̇ͥ̈_̱ ṳ̸̧̩̘̙͍̱̋͋̀_̲͊̾̑̕͜p̮̰̦̟ͮ̿̈́̅̏

Junebug gasped as she jolted upwards, digging her hands into the blanket around her.

It was dark. She could see, she knew she could, it just took a minute for her optics to adjust- something about cameras and exposure and…yeah, something like that.

Where was she, again..?

The weight beside her finally registered. Johnny lay peacefully sleeping on his side beside her, arms curled to his chest and his face buried in a pillow.

Spare bedroom, basement, tv…couch…

Right, Clara and Cyrano’s house. She and Johnny did a set at a bar nearby and asked to stay with them for the weekend. The bike was outside, the keys were on the table.

Well, there was no chance of her going back to sleep, not after that nightmare.

Junebug moved slowly and quietly, not wanting to disturb her Cricket, taking careful steps up the stairs and into the kitchen.

She’d made up her mind about halfway up the steps, deciding that she’d snag one of the leftover donuts from the box on the kitchen table, and then maybe..go for a late night swim. Surely they didn’t get a pool put in outside just for it to be a decoration, and she was waterproof anyway, what would it hurt?

Ⱥꞥđ ⱳħⱥⱦ īꞩ īⱦ ɏꝋᵾ ⱦħīꞥҟ ɏꝋᵾ'ɍē đꝋīꞥꞡ?

It was too early to be fighting her inner demons.

She brushed off the nagging feeling of impending doom as she licked a stray fleck of caramel from her chin, making sure not to accidentally trigger the chime that Clara had installed near the back door.

Łꝋꝋҟ ⱥⱦ īⱦ. Īⱦ ⱦħīꞥҟꞩ īⱦ ȼⱥꞥ ēⱥⱦ łīҟē ⱥ ħᵾᵯⱥꞥ. Īⱦ ⱦħīꞥҟꞩ īⱦ īꞩ ħᵾᵯⱥꞥ.

Warm weather, clear skies, perfect conditions for a night swim.

Junebug always preferred to swim in shorts, never a swimsuit. She could never really decide why, and everytime someone asked, she gave them a different answer. She could never find one she liked, or one that fit her, or she didn’t like how they were made, or-

..Or maybe she just didn’t like people seeing the wield marks in her plating.

Ⱦⱥҟē ⱥ ꞡꝋꝋđ, łꝋꞥꞡ łꝋꝋҟ ⱥꞥđ ɍēᵯēᵯƀēɍ ⱳħⱥⱦ ɏꝋᵾ ⱥɍē

The water was perfectly still. The moon provided just enough light for her to see her own reflection as she moved to step into the water.

Her mismatched eyes, the scratches in her plating, uneven wield marks on her neck.

The plating. Her skin.

Łꝋꝋҟ ⱥⱦ ɏꝋᵾ, ꝑɍēⱦēꞥđīꞥꞡ ⱦꝋ ƀē ⱥ ħᵾᵯⱥꞥ. Ɏꝋᵾ ȼⱥꞥ'ⱦ ēꞩȼⱥꝑē ⱳħⱥⱦ ɏꝋᵾ ⱥɍē.

Her breath caught in her throat. She forgot it was possible, artificial lungs, yet another curse-within-a-blessing given to them by the company.

₴₮Ø₱ł₮₴₮Ø₱ł₮₴₮Ø₱ł₮₴₮Ø₱ł₮₴₮Ø₱ł₮₴₮Ø₱ł₮₴₮Ø₱ł₮₴₮Ø₱ł₮₴₮Ø₱ł₮

“...Junebug?”

She hadn’t realized how close she’d gotten to the edge before she lost her footing and fell in at the jolt of surprise.

The water hit her senses before she could even process what was going on, body twisting and flailing in the water as she tried to move in whatever direction she could perceive as up.

A hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her up, and she found a shoulder to rest her head on as she caught her breath.

𝗔⃥𝘳̸𝗲⃥ 𝘆⃥𝘰̸𝘂⃥ 𝗼⃥𝘬̸𝗮⃥𝘺̸?⃥!̸ 𝘑̸𝘂⃥𝘯̸𝗲⃥𝘣̸𝘂⃥𝘨̸?⃥!̸

… Ɉᵾꞥēƀᵾꞡ?!

Johnny. It was Johnny. He had her.

“June! Jesus, answer me!”

After realizing whose arms she was in (And who had accidentally scared her in the first place), she tightened her arms around his shoulders just a bit more.

“I’m fine. I’m fine, Cricket.”

Well, that was one way to get in the pool. They were still in the shallow end, so they could both stand, even though Junebug was using Johnny for support as she rebalanced herself and coughed up the small amount of water she had accidentally inhaled.

“You just scared me, that's all.”

Johnny frowned and furrowed his brows as Junebug pulled back.

“You scared me. I woke up and you weren’t there, and then I came out here to see you hyperventilating beside the pool.”

Shit.

“Just couldn’t sleep.”

Johnny kept his hand on her arm, keeping her close to him.

“Is that really it?”

She tried to pull away as he pulled her into another embrace.

“That’s it, Cricket. Nothing else to talk about.”

“Talk to meeeeeeee.” Johnny pouted.

“There isn’t anything else to talk about.” Junebug stared over his shoulder and into the water. She couldn’t see his face, but she knew he was making the “alright, I guess we’re doing this” face.

Especially when he started drifting backwards, pulling her towards the deep end of the pool.

“CrICkET”

“What?” Johnny teased, snickering as she wrapped her arms and legs around him this time.

“If there isn’t anything to talk about, surely you don’t mind-”

Junebug playfully swatted at his face. “You know I hate being in the deep!”

It was true, and he knew it. They were both originally built to maneuver in water, meaning that taking a swim in a pool, or even in down in the echo river at the rum colony, was no big deal, but Junebug absolutely DESPISED being where she couldn’t touch the bottom.

“Do I?”

“If you’re trying to get me to talk, this isn’t going to work.”

He planted a kiss on her cheek. She stuck her tongue out and retaliated by nipping at his ear.

“C’mon, June. You know you never win this fight.”

Junebug let her chin rest on his shoulder again. “I’ve told you about my dreams before. There, that’s it. I had a dream and couldn’t go back to sleep so I came out here. Happy?”

Johnny’s playful look turned to a look of concern.

“And you decided to come outside and have a staring competition with your reflection?”

Junebug stayed silent. Johnny knew, they both had their insecurities, despite how hard they tried to act human, how they rebuilt themselves and colored in the empty spots, how they could never get the paint to fully cover up the seams on their limbs.

“....Can you put me down now?”

She immediately realized her mistake, and kicked herself for her words.

“Right here?”

She wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, He was always the better swimmer.

“Right here?”

“JoHNNy DoN’T YoU DArE”

He only released his grip just a little bit, but she still frantically tried to pull herself closer to him.

“CRICKET.”

“What? You told me to put you down-” He shrugged. “I’m just doing what my Junebug wants.”

“YOUKNOWDAMNWELLTHATSNOTWHATIMEANT.”

She only stopped her frantic attempts to stay as close as possible to him when she felt his arms wrap tightly around her waist again.

“Request rescinded?” Johnny got her on the chin this time.

Junebug buried her face in his shoulder to hide her embarrassment. Thank god it was only her and Johnny, for her own sake. He was the only one that ever got to see her like this, that ever got to truly make her laugh or be there when she needed comfort. Those quiet, private moments were the only moments they dropped the act and got comfortable.

And they liked it that way.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

“....Gross.”

The Blue-haired one stuck out her tongue.

The purple-haired one shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Shut up, you’ll blow our cover.”

“I don’t see why we can’t just take them now.” The blue-haired one whispered to the other. “They’re right there, there’s nobody else around-”

The purple-haired one pointed towards the house, making sure not to move past the shrubs they were using to hide behind.

“And there are houses with god knows how many security systems. Do you know what would happen if we got caught?”

The blue-haired one rolled her eyes and replied mockingly, “The boss will get in trouble and then we’ll get scrapped because yada yada bad company publicity.”

“Finally, you’re using your processor.”

They sat in silence for a moment, before the blue-haired one spoke again.

“...but they’re right there. We could get this done now-”

The purple-haired one turned to face her, a hand on his hips as he snarled.

“Do you have the narcotics on you?”

The blue-haired one glared back in an angry silence.

“Hey, Tempest?” She cocked her head. “How about you kiss my-”

The collars around their necks beeped quietly before she could finish her challenging insult. The blue-haired one groaned in annoyance.

“We’re done for tonight anyway.”

The blue-haired one snuck one last glance at the two oblivious bodies down the hill, only turning her attention away when Tempest quietly called for her.

“Surge! Leaving now!”

An excited, absolutely wicked smile crossed Surge’s face as she trailed into the woods after Tempest, cackling under her synthetic breath.

“Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

[fortecircuit]

Name:N.V Age:19 (physically) Height: 5'5 (can fluctuate) Attribute: Electro Weapon: Modified Rectifier Class: Currently not applicable Affiliations:Jinzhou,Huaxu Academy Family:"NOVA" (sister--deactivated/deleted) Creator:Doctor ,███ warren

Personality:Kind ,curious,helpful,nervous ,uncertain, cautious,determined,a little bit filled with spite

An artificial intelligence assistant,used to cover up a scheme by researchers (that were secretly working with the Fractsidus unbeknownst to N.V), Very kind ,bright,and hard working N.V does his best to be there when needed and to prove himself with his tasks

Forte Examination Report:

Resonance Power: Digital transference

Resonance Evaluation Report: The exact time for resonator N.V's awakening is unknown , his use of forte however was discovered recently his tacet mark is located on his upper forearm .

His forte can seemingly allow him to interact with objects in his holographic form,as well as allow him to make similar digital copies of them though range of what can and cant be copied is currently limited but is also still being tested,He currently uses the projectors within the academy and in his terminal for these tests.

Overclock Diagnostic Report: Undetermined as there's still not a very concrete way to keep track of N.Vs overclocking risk due to his unclear Resonance Spectrum Pattern he will need to be examined closely.

As of right now his condition seems to be stable, Regular physical examinations are mandatory ,as well as occasional psychological counseling.

Mini bio:

Created by a man named Dr.Warren to be used as a cover up a scheme ,N.V is a very kind eager to collaborate on whatever he could as well as taught (though he mostly ended up learning to operate thanks to his sister nova) but he was usually met with cold eyes ,from the doctor (and his colleagues) N.V could never full understand why until one day everything seemed to just go wrong.

One minute hes active getting things done - the next alarms are going of people are scattering ,being told NOVAs gone and NV would be left behind,before he could even get a word in everything went dark--dark and quiet for a very long time.

Until one day he's awake again,everything is still dark but the machines are active..though they look unrecognizable to the ones he remembers,N.V sees if he can run a data search,finding out hes been put into some sort of system to an academy...

[diverse-hearts-ocs]

Starter for @mcuntainbcrn ~ cause who doesn't want more angst?

The heat only annoyed him for the simple fact that he couldn't stay as covered as he would like to. Out here like he was, he'd often find himself overheating if he were to stay under the cover of the heavy robes that he liked to hide beneath - and although he longed to perish from this world, he was quite aware that heat wasn't the answer - that'd been tested, more times than he cared to think on.

Instead of his dark robes then, he currently wore lighter colours, loose clothing more in the style of his native homeland, than the frozen wastelands that had been his prison for so many years now. It helped against the heat, sure, but it also allowed him to see just how different his body now was - the slightly off looking joints in his arms, the scars that ran across the artificial skin he now wore, hiding the monstrous mix of machinery and biological make-up that kept this shell of a being alive, Niwa pausing for a moment as a glimpse of movement nearby caught his attention - when usually it never would have. He'd long since shut himself off from the world - only listening out for the orders from his masters - even after becoming the eighth Harbinger, he was aware that it was in name only. His rank meant nothing and he didn't care. All that he did like, was being outside again.

Still, there was something that had caught his attention, something that pulled him away from the task that he'd been ordered to carry out, the plants placed away inside his bag, before he silently slipped away into the depths of the nearby plants, following after the figure that had managed to draw something from the back of his long buried memories. This girl, who was she? Why was she having this type of effect? He'd long since decided to shut down, to close himself off...if only to guard his mind from insanity - so just how was she calling to him like this?

Foggy memories were difficult to pull on, but his sight kept being drawn to the hairpins that the girl wore, so he guessed that it had something to do with them, but what, he wasn't sure - there was a small voice telling him that those belonged to another though, someone who he'd loved a lifetime ago, a thought that was quickly buried before he could risk recalling anything too concrete. He was simply a machine now, a monstrous doll of destruction - memories of a time long past were useless to such a thing...yet still he silently followed.

[acestories]

So, I know this isn't technically my writing blog (though I could make it), but I'm working on a story that I feel like at least someone here will like.

"In some ways the world hasn’t changed; Karens still scream at grocery store clerks for no reason, Douchebags think they own the roads, and the sun continues to rise every morning. But, it’s definitely changed; people fly through the air on their own, a car mechanic lifts the car he’s working on with his bare hand, and a thief outruns a squad of police cars. 

But, I’m getting ahead of myself. 2020 was terrible already, but as if that wasn’t enough it had one last fucking piece of shit to throw in our faces. Christmas night, there was a violet star in the sky. By new years eve, it had become a sun. By new years day, a violet mist that brought with it plague, one with a 10% mortality rate, and the rich and powerful hid themselves away from it. As they always did.

But as it turned out, ⅕ of those who survived it got what could only be called Superpowers. And very few of the rich and powerful got Superpowers. The inevitable started to happen. 

And where do I fit into all of this? Well, I'm the ñonbinary cat boy waiting for their take out to be ready. What? Just because I got Superpowers doesn't mean I don't want tacos. And these guys make a gochujang teriyaki sauce that is to die for. And I'm not gonna let some random ass fuck wad villain destroy this place, I can't recreate the sauce! 

The villain (who I think called himself Syndrome or some shit like that, I can't rememeber) charged at me, fist raised high. I'm able to dodge at the last minute, the concrete street corner shattering as it took the blow, which when combined with my latest bruises, are enough to tell me that this guy has one of those Escalating Strength powers in addition to the basic stuff.

Gotta take them out fast, before they start punching Blackholes or something. I think someone can do that?

The villain starts monologuing; ooooooh, his name is "Symptom." That's actually kinda cool, I gotta admit. Regardless, thank fuck this guy is long winded. Or really into L.A.R.P.ing. 

Doesn't matter now though; I charge at him with the speed of a bullet and unleash a flurry of blows. After a few seconds of what sounds like a machine gun going off, he starts to fall backwards, a look of surprise on his big stupid, neck-bearded face.

Heh, I caught him Monologuing. Guess that makes me a sly cat instead of a sly dog. :D

Oh yeah, the cat parts. While only ⅕ of survivors got super powers, over half of survivors got "fantasy bits." I got turned into a cat boy, but I've seen people with other parts. Someone I went to high-school with got turned into an Orc. 

Oh, and these things aren't a package deal, but there is enough overlap that it's testing fate to make a cat girl angry. So the Boomer who's screaming and making threats at me for not saving his car is either really brave or really stupid. I'm betting on the latter. 

Regardless, my food is ready and I wish to return home, and that's exactly what I'm gonna do.

[yama-uba]

At my current age, I know 3 things about myself for sure: I can't dwell on anything (especially before bed), I can't have plums and beets, and I never follow the first two prohibitions. Because of the abundance of thoughts about Paralives, last night I dreamed that I was an intern at PS.

The first thing I remember is that I was introduced to the development team, an analyst, and a tester. And then the team leader asked how I did my "homework" on getting to know the project. I said that I was interested in the fact that they decided to make a mechanic where individual light bulbs in lighting fixtures can burn out and parafolk can buy a separate, suitable light bulb for some objects and screw it in. ATTENTION: I doubt that this will be implemented in the game - it was only part of my dream. And then I asked, if we deepen the home gameplay towards realistic household chores, then can we find out how the mechanism of breakdown and the mechanism of clogging of plumbing is implemented, including sinks/baths/washing machines/boilers, and not just toilets, because a clog is not just a leaky flush tank.

There was an awkward pause and I continued asking questions in an attempt to ease the tension. "Will the game implement a system of water pipes and drainage, which would limit the placement of plumbing?", "Will we create an electrical circuit for the house, where all energy consumers should be taken into account, including sockets and light switches?", "What kind of heating will be preferable in the land of parafolk: radiators, convectors, air conditioners or a warm sweat system?", "Will sources of cold and heat in the house be taken into account, such as tiled floors, doors to the street and a chimney of a fireplace on the upper floors?", "What is the maximum length of a floor in the game and will it be possible to create a panel, frame, brick, monolithic reinforced concrete house and a house-hybrid of construction technologies?" I also asked a bunch of questions that I have already forgotten.

Everyone was looking at me. And then my boss said, "You know, we haven't even thought about this until now. Your first task is to formulate a concept and create a prototype for our focus group and testing of this idea this week." I was very surprised by this deadline. Considering that 1 of these 5 days was already coming to an end, I was assured that this time was more than enough and, as soon as I got the hang of the project, I would be able to do all this in 24 hours.

Then there was a typical "strange work day" in a dream, where it turned out that the junior programmer assigned to me to help with the implementation turned out to be a goose. I mean, he was not anthropomorphic, but a real live, white goose (and, if you look at it from another point of view, he was a really talented programmer, capable of writing code according to my idiotic technical task). As is customary in any dreams, the only thing that confused me was that his name was Steve (this name is associated with very difficult to communicate with people, like Jobs and cases from my experience, but Steve-goose was not only a competent employee, but also a pleasant person).

Somewhere on the 4th day of my work and hard crunch on studying the sewerage system of an American private house together with a goose, I began to sleep right at the meeting. My boss noticed this and asked me if I thought our parafolk personality profile system, which was a complete homage to the Sims 2 character system, was boring. I said that the OCEAN system was good, of course, but I would add to these 5 traits the missing traits from the HEXACO system (and added some other traits that I came up with at that moment, which brought their number to 9), and also returned the Yunk typology, but would make it not a "zodiac sign", but a lifestyle, and also added that very "passion for some activity" from the Hobbies DLC. At that moment, I forgot about fetishes and taboos (as always in a dream).

The team leader loved the idea, but everyone else sighed heavily. He crossed out all his old notes on the wall and started drawing everything again. Steve, sitting next to me at the daily, stretched out his long neck and whispered that this person was both the project's best hope for getting out of beta and the local Elon Musk. So I had to be extremely careful with my "bouts of creativity."

The boss saw this and asked what was missing in my character system for the base game. I said that the fear system from Sims 2 needs to be developed into a full-fledged mechanic. Like there are fears (rational fear of something), and there are phobias (irrational fear). And we could get a lot of interesting multi-layered systems with intrapersonal conflicts of parafolk, like real people. For example, a person who dreams of becoming a superstar (because his mother wanted him to), but is afraid of the stage. And that this would give more replayability with a small amount of starting content for stories: a phobia could arise during the game due to the player's actions, due to being in society with parafolk with this phobia, be hidden from the player (the character knows about his fear), hidden from both the player and the character (latency period). I was asked to list the options:

Thalassophobia - (homage to Sims 2);

Cynophobia (dogs);

Nyctophobia (darkness);

Acrophobia (heights);

Verminophobia (bacteria)

Claustrophobia and Agarophobia (closed and open spaces);

I named half a dozen more phobias that I could remember, including trypophobia. And then I came up with the concept that we need to make a family of pre-mades, where the only toddler will have absolutely all the realized phobias, which will constantly exhaust his parents, but at the same time this same child will heroically save his family, neighbors and acquaintances from dangers and be a "reinsurer hen". This impressed everyone. Especially my boss. … He said that I have 3 days to give them a finished sample so that they can decide whether to do it. I said that I can't. To which the boss assured me that it's okay, because I can do it on the weekend. Steve, who had previously been kind to me, said that he could only help with the mechanics of the house, and this task was beyond his strength.

It seems that this is where my career in game development ended, because I don't remember much after that. But I do remember that I woke up thinking, "I slept through my alarm! Steve now has to defend me in front of everyone else! We'll get fired! We don't have time for anything!" Maybe it's for the best that I didn't pursue a career in the game industry - this world already has enough Peter Molyneux.

...

I wonder if Steve was able to get promoted to middle programmer after such a quest…

[dzthenerd490]

File: Pikmin - Man-at-Legs

SCP#: AJE

Code Name: The Last Machine of the Last War

Object Class: Neutralized

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-AJE was destroyed upon discovery however its anomalous parts were transported to Site-AA for extensive testing. It has been placed in a containment box that is stored in the anomalous technology storage unit. It is non anomalous in its current state and all that can be learned from it has already been learned as such it is taken out regularly for minor testing purposes. The AFA-1 units are programmed to protect it along with the other anomalous technology devices in the storage unit but not to prioritize it over other items and especially recognized SCP’s. 

Description: SCP-AJE at the time of activation was a strange arachnid-like creature that oddly only has four legs despite being an arachnid. One leg in particular is missing and the orb-like torso is heavily damaged with only some damaged arachnid organs remaining. Naturally this would leave SCP-AJE as a broken corpse had it not been augmented with a steam powered mechanical torso and a mechanical leg. The resulting organism stands only 40 inches tall but shockingly it possesses a gun that shoots an unlimited amount of small explosive bullets that fly and target like missiles. These missiles easily rip through flesh and destroy concrete with ease. There is unfortunately nothing else remarkable about SCP-AJE other than its anomalous origin. 

SCP-AJE was discovered in 2004 within one of the caves that was to be sealed by Mobile Task Force Hades-5 "Cave Crawlers". While fighting against SCP-AMZ, SCP-AJE appeared and started firing at the instances as well. SCP-AJE started firing at them and even hurt them, allowing the MTF Hades-5 units to seal the cave with a Kallivantium explosive. Unfortunately, SCP-AJE started attacking them well and even blew off one of their legs, so the other MTF units crushed it by stomping on it. Though it was concluded that SCP-AJE was not remarkably anomalous it was still an anomaly and thus the MTF units were punished by being assigned to cleaning duty to SCP-173 for a week. 

However Dr. Wobble decided to take a look further and somehow found an audio recording that revealed that SCP-AJE came from the future. Please see Addendum X-71 for details. 

***

Addendum X-71

The following is a recording found in an anomalous device found inside SCP-AJE’s remains. 

Begin Recording

“I don’t really know why I’m doing this anymore… The war is over… we lost… I guess I’m just hoping maybe there’s something or someone out there that will be intelligent enough to understand what I’m saying… We were stupid. We saw the threat but at the time it was so tiny we thought it was nothing. We had bigger threats, bigger worries, even things we didn’t know existed. Hell I only recently learned there were even living planets trying to kill us.

But still, we should have known better, big things always have small beginnings, and this threat started out very small but became pretty fucking big. This thing I built, it’s one of our last weapons I can make against it, not that it would do any good. We call it the [Data Expunged by Order of the O5 Council], not that anyone cares. We originally thought it was a small little water spirit but in reality, it was a big fucking parasite.

But not any parasite, it was a parasite that devoured entire worlds, it changes infects the water with itself mutating them into tiny but vicious creatures that swarm and kill all they see. Funny thing is, most were so tiny and easy to squish them. We realized too late that when they formed swarms they could tear an adult human apart. We were too focused on them that we didn’t see the bigger picture, it wasn’t just one place it was everywhere. The worst part is that we didn’t realize our water was infected until it was too late.

We established colonies in the solar system to escape but even our most outer reaching colonies were lost too. It didn’t just mutate bugs and plants but bacteria too, it created little monsters that ate people from the inside out. No one was safe so long as there was infected water.

Everyone and everything got wiped out so quickly because of that... I don’t know if anyone else is left, I just know my machines are still self-replicating and trying to kill as many of those freaks out there but honestly my resources are dwindling. Even putting aside, the materials I have left I don’t have much food either. I know I’m not going to live to see this end, and even if I could live longer there’s no way this shit will end so quickly.

So, if you're listening to this then that means my final plan didn’t work and your probably an alien or something trying to explore a dead planet. if you can understand my language or are smart enough to translate it, then get your friends and get out of here... But if any of you already drank the water then just stay here and find a way to die peacefully. But make sure no one ever comes looking for you and if they do, they know to stay away. All this thing needs is one drop of water, and it can mutate the wildlife of any planet it wants. I know you feel fine, and maybe you are, but if you value your species... you'll be willing to die and be forgotten for them.

But if you're not an alien but a human then my plan might have worked, unless your from my future in wich case we're still fucked... unless you somehow grew immunity to the water in which case more power to ya kid. Hope you become the adam of the new world and get yoruself an Eve... try not to fuck the world up like we did okay?

Though I'm really hoping your actually form the past because that means I really did save us. I was reviewing a file relating to something called SCP-AVM from this place called the SCP Foundation. Apparently, they were allies of the Global Occult Coalition but preferred to contain anomalies instead of just killing them. Very stupid idea if you ask me but I did hear they lasted the longest so they must have done something right. Anyways, when reviewing the file, I also found a document that talked about sending a signal that could send things back in time.

if I’m right then with the right frequency I can use what I got left to make a little time machine. I can send this little robot back in time and hopefully prevent any of this from happening. I’m still getting used to paratechnology and metaphysics so I’m not too sure how it all works right now but if my machines hold out long enough I can send this back and warn everyone to take out the [Data Expunged by Order of the O5 Council] before it grows large enough to kill us all and mutate our world.

So, if this really made it to the past and that’s who’s listening right now then takes these words to heart. You’ll know the [Data Expunged by Order of the O5 Council] when you see it, trust me. But when you see it, don’t fuck around this time, kill it. But you can’t just kill it in a normal way, there’s only one weapon that can kill them and it’s the Pikmin. I don’t know exactly what they are, but I have read lots of reports that they were the only thing that hurt it. So, if you find this Pikmin thing, use it and kill the damn [Data Expunged by Order of the O5 Council]. Because if you don’t everyone fucking dies. Your decision is Humanity’s only hope.”

Recording Ends

***

The O5 Council allowed Site Director Nancy James full custody of SCP-AEK and allowed her free reign in further experiments regarding SCP-AEK instances in response to the recording. If such a danger truly is coming and the SCP-AEK instances are the only means of destroying it then it must be done. Site Director Nancy James is to be allowed access to any further resources that can assist her and her SCP-AEK instances. 

“I just want to make it clear that I fucking called it! I knew the SCP-AEK instances were going to save the world one day! Though we still don’t know exactly when that day is, I'm at least glad to know that everything I’ve been doing so far is right on track! Whatever the hell this [Data Expunged by Order of the O5 Council] is, I’ll make sure my little guys can take it out.” -Site Director James.

.

SCP: Horror Movie Files Hub

[android-anthology-hub]

A Robot and a Girl - Part 2

So continuing on with the updates, here's part 2 of A Robot and a Girl. With the engineer tied up, it was time for D'Anna to find who she'd came looking for.

You can of course also check out this chapter on Fiction Press, Ao3, and Tapas.

She could feel the circuits firing as she tapped the card, the tool chest sliding out along the wall.

The room beyond was lined with storage stalls, five of them full. The back of the room was some kind of loading bay, the sounds of the transport lanes just beyond its rolling door. Each mech was held firmly in place with straps, their heads hanging low, without power.

D’Anna clenched her fists as she walked down the line, the lights flickering on overhead.

Just how long had he been running like this?

“Most of these are archer mechs, combat models,” she muttered to herself, frowning in thought.

She stopped at the last stall before the loading dock, running a hand over the scorched metal of the mech’s chest plate. 

They were an RC-N model, exactly who she was looking for… 

The engineer had pulled out their power cell, leaving it on a small table built into the stall. With a grunt, she pulled open their chest plate and slotted it back inside. Its circuits flickered to life as she twisted the cell into place. She could hear their systems warming up as she closed them back up.

“Rosi?” she asked, stepping back as their eyes came online, pulsing as they regarded her.

“You–” their voice box crackled. “You…know my name?”

She gave them a small smile as she undid the straps, “Somebody missed you a lot when you disappeared. Sweet lady asked me to find you.”

As the last strap came off they stepped free of the stall, arms turning and clicking in sturdy shoulder joints.

Rosi tested and flexed their hands after being bound so long, tilting their head inquisitively as they spoke, “You know Cole?”

“I’m gonna get you back to her,” D’Anna said, meeting their eyes as they studied her.

They clenched their hands at their sides, looking around at the other stalls.

“What about them? What will happen to them?” they asked, watching as she studied the other models.

“I’ve got a friend that can take them in-” she ran a hand along the chest of one of the archer mechs, their body brand new. “-I won’t leave them behind.”

“Do you mean that,” Rosi asked, towering over her as they stood at her side.

She took their hand in hers and squeezed until her nerves ached, the servos in her knuckles whining.

“I give you my word, Rosi. They’ll be safe,” she said softly.

Rosi stared at her for a long time, longer than most would be comfortable with.

It was a look that asked too many questions. A look that held thought behind it. It reminded her that even a machine like them, a workhorse, was alive.

“You surprise me,” was all Rosi said.

D’Anna gripped the hem of her coat, thumb trailing along the once white synth-silk, long since dyed red.

She looked back at them with a smile, irises glinting as she spoke, “That’s a good thing, Rosi, thank you…” she rubbed her hands together with a small chuckle, “Now, let’s get the rest of ‘em online, shall we?”

The Gardens were always warm, humidity dripping from the solar shaft’s machinery. Greenery grew along the walls, vibrant in the sunlight that spilled in from above.

The air rushed past D’Anna as the corridors of the city opened up into the Gardens’ wide open spaces, sunlight glinting off her glasses. She shaded her eyes as she let her circuits adjust to the natural light.

“So it’s morning already?” she muttered to herself, knocking her glasses up as she kneaded at her brow.

She would never get used to seeing so much growth outside the Towers. Vines and branches wound their way around metal and concrete, cleaning the air for the rest of the city. But that wasn’t all it did.

She could see people tending gardens mounted on the walls, picking fruits and leaves that thrived in the sunlight. Flowers bloomed in planters along the path she was walking, an absolute riot of color. She could see traders setting out their wares, gardeners gathering their harvest, and engineers readying their equipment.

“Looks like a smuggler drop’s coming,” D’Anna hummed, glancing up at Rosi beside her.

Rosi gave a sage nod, then tilted their head in confusion as they spoke, “Smuggler drop?”

She nodded towards the massive airshaft that dominated the space, climbing towards open sky.

“You’ll see,” she said. “We should hurry, we don’t want to get in the way, trust me.”

They looked back to their fellow mechs, the other four giving Rosi a questioning look. And Rosi just splayed their hands in a small, helpless, gesture.

D’Anna frowned in thought as she looked around, circuits whirring as her eyes scanned around the space. She let out a soft sigh as she found what she was looking for, a yellow diamond marked on the nearby wall. She laid a hand over the marker, the paint still pretty new, and turned till she found the next.

This wasn’t where the path was last time she was here… She’d have to ask about that later.

She waved for Rosi and the others to follow, tucking her hands away as her eyes traced from one diamond to the next. The gardens continued to hum with activity. The tension building to an event she knew all too well. She continued to follow the trail, her eyes scanning about

Her eyes scanned about, racing along the trail until she found a familiar sight. Hidden in the branches and vines was an alcove, a small door marked with that same golden yellow beckoning her. She could hear the rumbling overhead, the electric hum of engines.

Bell tones rang out all around the shaft as several aerial craft started their descent. Their atmo-drivers whipped the wind into a frenzy as they hovered. Men and women barked orders, machines creaked and groaned, landing pads sliding out from where they’d been hidden amongst the green.

A young woman’s voice crackled out all around the Gardens, “Starting the clock, ninety minutes.”

The crews clicked on their watches, small screens flickering to life. And all counted down-

-90-

The moment a craft landed, the smuggler crews went to work, opening panels and pulling their contraband from their hiding places.

-87-

Others opened their cargo bays as they descended, barkers leaning out to announce their wares.

-81-

Mechanics raced out to meet them, trading work for whatever they had to offer.

-counting down the small window till sector security took notice.

D’Anna flashed a small smile as she watched everyone go to work, bringing goods to trade and sell.

Before she came here, she had never seen anything quite like it. She’d hated the chaos back then, but now she could see the beauty in it. The people here were full of life, brimming with ideas. Now, she could hardly imagine any other sight that brought a smile to her face quite like this.

She turned to Rosi and the others, one hand still in her coat pocket while the other tapped against the door.

“That-” she said with a nod to the organized chaos around them. “-is a smuggler drop.”

Himari was probably hard at work already.

[davidmariottecomics]

Copyrights and Wrongs, Part 1

Hello there! 

Feels like it's been a bit since we last spoke, and I'm sorry for that. Two weekends ago, Becca and I were out of town (I'll share a little bit of that later) and then last weekend, I was just dealing with being really depressed and uninspired and I didn't want to just not write my blog, I didn't really want to do anything. I'm doing a bit better and am about to have a lot to talk about, probably for a few weeks (at least 2-3), so buckle up and get ready! This blog's a special one because appropriate for the time of year, it has HOMEWORK!!!

Also, as a head's up, this first part's going to be a bit shorter as Becca is at Cartoon-a Palooza starting this afternoon! More on that below too! 

What is Copyright? 

Copyright is both exactly what the name says and a much deeper, more complex thing. In a nutshell, it is the right to copy a creation. If you draw a piece of art, if you write a poem, if you design a machine or a building, if you compose music for a song, if you write a blog even (hehe!), under U.S. law, you are the owner of that work and other people can't use it without your permission. 

In more concrete terms, copyright is a form of intellectual property law that defines ownership and use of art under some pretty specific terms. The three biggest ones being: originality, creativity, and fixation. Originality asks if a work is original and unique. What that means is if you and your friend see a cool dog, and you both draw a picture of it, as long as your friend didn't just copy your exact picture, you both now have an original piece of work. Maybe the most commonly thought of example against originality is plagarism, where someone takes another person's written work and tries to pass it off as their own. Creativity is maybe the most nebulous term involved in determining copyright and often overlaps against originality, but should broadly be thought of as the work's intent and execution. Let's say you put together a Pintrest board of inspiration. It isn't meant to be a unique creation or piece of art unto itself, it's just a bit of reference. But if you printed all of the images from that Pintrest board out and collaged them into a piece of art, that would qualify as a creative effort. Finally, fixation refers to whether or not you actually made the thing in a trackable way. If I sing my cats a silly little song to announce their breakfast, but I never write that song down and it isn't ever recorded, it isn't fixed and there isn't proof that you've made the thing. However, if I shoot a TikTok of me singing that song to my cats, hey, I've got that record and I'm set. 

That's a very basic overview and, like I said, copyright is complicated. Being a set of laws revolving around ownership in a capitalist system, there're whole sections of the legal industry dedicated to arguing out and testing and defining the limits of copyright. The other really basic stuff you need to understand about copyright for the rest of this conversation are what you can do as a copyright holder, how long copyright lasts, and what "fair use" is.

Here it is from the horse's mouth--the U.S. Copyright office--but the rights a copyright holder has come down to reproduction, continuation, and distribution. You can make more of your work, either through copies or by creating more new work covered in part by your initial creation, and you can display it or sell it or perform it or otherwise make it available. As part of sale, you can also sell the copyright itself--transferring the ownership to someone else. A lot of comics is done with this step happening before the work is started as "work for hire." This basically says that if you're creating an image for a company that owns the copyright to, say, a character like Batman or property like Transformers, you understand that their copyright to the initial work of art supersedes that of the work you now produce for them, and in exchange, they're going to pay you for your creation and any rights that might otherwise be claimable with it. Not to say it too many times, but it's a complicated system and one that has a lot of very reasonable and righteous criticism lobbed at it. There's often a bit of a rub between copyright as protecting creators and copyright as protecting companies.  

Companies, for example, famously have been responsible for the expansion of copyright after the death of the author. Current U.S. law dictates copyright for modern creation lasts until the death of the author, plus 70 years. After that, works enter what we call the public domain (more on that in a sec). But just to really put that into perspective: Stephen King is still alive! And there is a distinct chance that his books won't be available until the 2100s under current copyright law. Or, rather, most of his books. If I did my math right, I believe Carrie will be available in 2069 because it actually pre-dates the current code! And this is further complicated by various other things--like work-for-hire creations and anonymous creations have different term limits, and we're reaching an interesting point where some original works are becoming public domain, but their derivative works are still copyrighted (like, say, Mickey Mouse. Steamboat Willie, the first Mickey short, will hit the public domain in 2024, but ALL OTHER MICKEY STUFF will still be under Disney). 

Which brings us back to public domain and fair use. To briefly tackle public domain first, it is the idea that after a copyright expires, that work is available to anyone to use as they please! You wanna tell a Dracula story? Do it! You wanna stage a Shakespeare play or adapt it into another medium? Do it! You wanna turn the Odyssey into a rock opera? Do it! Public domain says no rules, just right! Do it! It's a good idea to check what is in the public domain (Wikipedia linked as a starter) at any given point, just to see what may be available to you. This is going to be important in coming weeks. But everything in the public domain is fair use.

As are certain other things--if you're an Adobe subscriber and use photoshop, the software is copyrighted, but you've got fair use to use it, if you see a movie, the movie is copyrighted, but you've paid your money and have fair use to view it. There are certain limitations for research, education, and transformational uses too. I can't get into all the specifics, because they're varied and incredibly nuanced, but as a few examples: if Mad Magazine does a parody of X-Men called "Ecch-Men" or whatever (a thing they've definitely done), that's fair use--it's understood to be parody/satire and not the original work. If a textbook is publishing a historically significant photo, that may be under fair use. Posting a quote from a book on social media and in a locker room with or without proper attribution may be fair use (this is a real example). 

Okay, that's a lot to take in and we haven't even gotten to stuff like trademark, patent, or infringement. But hopefully that's enough of a primer that you'll feel confident in the coming weeks of conversation. 

Homework Time 

Toldja there'd be homework! So here's what we're going to be talking about over the next few weeks that you might wanna get yourself primed on too! 

First off - The Copyright office is conducting a study on generative AI and taking into account public opinion and information on it related specifically to copyright. Public comments are open until October 18th. I already submitted one--that I may reproduce in part or in full here--but if you are (rightfully) concerned about "A.I." as it currently exists and the many ways in which it is already violating copyright law, definitely take the time to share a comment! 

Secondly - You may've seen the news in the past 24 hours that Bill Willingham is releasing Fables into the public domain. I'm linking to the A.V. Club's article because well... you all know how I feel about Substack (and you may know how I feel about Willingham himself, which is to say, he sucks!). Next week, this'll be our first topic of discussion to see what that actually means. And please remember, I'm not an expert in copyright law, but I do wanna discuss it! 

Finally - No homework on this one, but the other thing we'll be talking about is digging a little bit deeper into work for hire and the complicated relationship between comics, artists, and licensed and unlicensed works. 

See ya next week! 

What I enjoyed this week(s): Blank Check (Podcast), Dungeons & Daddies (Podcast), Craig of the Creek (Cartoon), Honkai Star Rail (Video game), One Piece (Manga), One Piece (Live Action--I know there are some strong feelings on this take, but maybe we'll talk about that in a future blog), Birds of Prey #1 (Thompson, Romero, Bellaire - Comic), Blue Beetle #1 (Trujillo, Gutierrez, Quintanta - Comic), Shazam (Waid, Mora, Sanchez - Comic), Fire & Ice: Welcome to Smallville #1 (Starer, Bustos, Bonvillain - Comic), The Archive Undying by Emma Mieko Candon (Book), Chainsaw Man (Manga), the Original McDonald's Museum. 

New Releases this week (9/13/2023): Sonic the Hedgehog #64 (Editor) Sonic the Hedgehog's 900th Adventure (Editor) 

Announcements: Becca is at Cartoon-a Palooza in Temecula on 9/15 & 9/16. It's a cool free all-ages little con, so come on out and see them! That's today and tomorrow at time of posting! They've got new stuff! 

Becca (and their letterer pal, Duke) has also got a new comic out! It's a short NSFW comic in Midnight Ouevres, the adult part of the Stellar Inflorescence Genshin Impact free zine! 

Wanna support me? Consider joining my Patreon!

I have a webstore! And I did, in fact, get a couple extra copies of Beast Wars Vol. 3! But check it out! Limited quantities on everything! 

I've still got a few things on my eBay, if you're looking for stuff! 

Pic of the Week: Becca and I were in Vegas a couple weekends ago, saw Weezer. It was fun. But on the way back, we stopped by the Original McDonald's Museum in San Bernadino! It's a fascinating little place, in the building that was built where the first McDonald's was before it was torn down and rebuilt to be a little theater. It's also not recognized by the McDonald's corporation because this is the location the founders kept for themselves when they ultimately sold the rest of the company to Ray Kroc. Anyway, so it's a funky little place with a lot of history and is full of toys and packaging and photos and outfits and this big Grimace suit with Becca! 

[roxyteal]

I have intentionally waited until April Fools was over to share something.

Let it be known that I have been very much off about when chapter 28 would be released. I appreciate the patience.

In hopes of alleviating the wait, I have decided to share a "mega" preview. Despite the name, it's very little in comparison to the entire thing, even as it is now.

Into the Keep Reading you go.

PREVIEW OF CHAPTER 28: ALL THE THINGS WE MISSED

On one such occasion, it was to inform him that he’d hired someone on as a “repair technician”, as the Tarwill called it. “What for? My work is impeccable. There’s really no need for that.”

“I donno…” Viktor shrugged, tone nonchalant, “He made a pretty convincing case for himself. I couldn’t say no to his determination…” Then promptly wheezed in laughter.

“Hm. I’ll be the judge of that.” Quickly, he took Viktor by the arm, and teleported the both of them to the shuttle hangar. It caught The Webspace’s leader off-guard, who let out a sharp noise of surprise.

“For fuck sake, 1,” He tried to sound serious, but was moreso rattled, “Warn me next time. Jesus.”

“Ah, sorry,” 1 spoke sincerely, then added, “I want to test your determined little technician. If he is going to be looking after my devices, he must be nothing but the best.”

Viktor snorted. “Oh, he is alright. A well-made… Something. Absolutely.”

“You don’t sound like you mean it.” 1 was sighing.

“I know, I know. Hang on, I’ll call him.” Right after he’d done so, 1 could hear a new sound amidst the rest - footsteps that somehow managed to be more audible than everything else. As it got closer, it was accented in faint, motorized whirs. But both were in harmony, sophisticated, and intentional.

And then, a third person stopped in front of Viktor and 1, with perfect posture. A swift glance into his file revealed his name: BILLY.CS. He seemed promising, but appearances are not enough.

“Mr. Strobovski, sir,” He gave a nod of acknowledgement, “What is it you need of me?”

1 stifled a shudder. He reminded him of those films, with robots who act in subservient roles, before inevitably turning on Humankind. And Billy in particular came off as if he were Viktor’s personal

“Oh yeah! Forgot that part,” The Tarwill chuckled, “Billy, this is Dave #1, but he just prefers the number. He’s responsible for the things that you’ll repair. He wants to test you or whatever.” He nudged him. “You sure you want to do this?”

“Please don’t question my methods,” 1 dodged the inquiry, then turned to the android. “You believe you are fit for this role?”

“Correct,” His answer was prompt. Stoic. “Ever since I’ve been outmoded in the very thing I’m most skilled at, I have decided to take it upon myself to bear the responsibility of ensuring your inventions work as intended.” Oh. Oh wow. There was a little bite to this machine.

“Mm-hmm, how fascinating.” 1 tabbed to his toolbox, floated higher, then opened it and turned it over. Several construction pieces fell to the concrete floor, echoing and reverberating noisily throughout the hangar. He was sure at least one person turned to look, but what 1 truly noticed was Billy trying not to cringe from the decibels.

“1, cut that shit out!” Viktor was more vocal about it, though. For a second, 1 forgot he was there. “Do you want us to go deaf?!”

“Oops, no. I must’ve slipped,” 1 fibbed, returning to his side. “Anyway, your task is to successfully build one of my shuttles from scratch. You have by the end of the day.” He didn’t wait for a reply, starting to leave instead. At least, until Viktor stopped him.

“No no no, asshole. You’re staying to watch.”

If only 1 had a stopwatch running, for it must’ve been no more than ten minutes. Sitting atop the newly-built shuttle, the android bore a slightly smug expression. “‘But Billy,’ you might be asking, ‘How could you have known its specifications?’ Well 1, you see, I took the time to study all of your blueprints. It took me five seconds just for this one. And, perhaps it goes without saying, but my robotic mind allows for a flawless, photographic memory.”

1 couldn’t respond. Billy noticed his silence. “Now, unless you would either: prefer to maintain them yourself, or are certain you can find someone better suited for this job, I think your assessment of me is complete, and you will have no choice but to rely on me. It is the least I can do, to thank you for creating the house cubes.” His tone held an air of controlled confidence, layered within the flatness, but those last two words were tenser, as if there’d been a personal slight against him.

Billy got down from the shuttle, dusting himself off despite not being the least bit dirtied. “… Ah. I hope I haven’t spoken out of turn, Mr. Strobovski.” And on a dime, his demeanor returned to normal. Looking up at him, the Tarwill had a big, dumb grin on his face.

“What? Nah, you’re good,” He met eyes with 1. “Satisfied? You look impressed.”

God, he’d let himself lose his cool, and to this… Petty android. He straightened up. “Why, yes, of course. He may stay on-board. He sounds like he is capable.”

“Then, if there is nothing else, I will take my leave. Have a good rest of your day, Mr. Strobovski. 1.” Only at the mention of his name did Billy’s connotation shift. Then, his exit was precise, consistent with his previous movements. 1… Honestly hadn’t seen this whole situation coming.

When Billy was gone, Viktor let out a laugh, like it’d been restrained until now. “Isn't he a riot?!”

“More like a show-off. And quite spiteful.”

[alexandriteobscuraarchive]

@magioffire continued from here

The strange creature's---never human, only 'it', only 'thing', only 'monster', there were no more humans left alive in this place---immediate insistence upon threats, that emergence into a consciousness as if the blackness of the mind had been burned away by the desire to fight, suffer, and perhaps even live was....admirable. SUCH INSTINCTS REQUIRED GUTS and few, if any, dared to bare them so ferociously at this particular Lord. Admirable and something else. Something deeper, more resonant....

"Well, well, well!! Listen to you, awake all of two minutes and you're already BEING A LITTLE SPITFIRE." There's a hint of bemusement in the grizzled monster's man's voice as he sets his notes aside---as if anything could compare to the thing laying prone at his feet---a quality which only emphasized the sharper undercurrent of danger wrapped tight around each and every word no matter how benign. When I say come you come. When I say stay you stay. When I say bleed you bleed. And heaven help you if you don't comply fast enough... "You're lucky that I like 'em feisty, it's no fun when they FALL APART SO QUICKLY." Heisenberg didn't conduct the heart of his experiments on living subjects, that was true, but the reaction he was seeing right now? That changed things.

This stranger's will to fight no matter how wounded; the immediate surge of venom upon waking---because no matter how weak and in pain the other looked on the floor of his factory Heisenberg knew the CURL OF A VIPER WHEN HE SAW ONE---that glimmer of fire in his eyes just waiting for the right kindling was...reflective...and that well and truly changed things. That click of the pieces already coming together in his mind was immediate and the Lord latches onto it with an undoubtedly enviable speed: That will was his, that venom was his, that fire was his, no matter how different their METHOD OF CONDUCTION. When I say I'll claw my way out of here I'll claw my way out no matter the damage. When I say I'll bleed to be let out of here I'll bleed no matter the pain. When I say I'll fight my way out of here I'll fight no matter the struggle. When I say I'll bite you I'll bite you no matter the risk and heaven help you if you don't pull away fast enough...

"You AREN'T GOING TO BEHAVE, are you?" Good. Disobedience only gave him an excuse to stoke that will, that venom, that fire, that the two of them seemed to share. Heisenberg extends his arm out to the side as he speaks; his gloved fingers open as if in waiting and then; quick as a flash and with an odd, teeth grating droning sound, a knife that had been stuck into a nearby wall jitters and then all but launches itself into his hand. His free hand then reaches to the opposite side and without even looking thumbs the button of the recorder down allowing a hissing noise to fill what little dead air the room they were occupying had left. "I'll be considering this a SPECIAL TEST SUBJECT; name: Valeriu. No cadou present within his system. Subject has an extreme aversion to the cold and---" There's a brief pause in speech as Heisenberg instead lunges forward and jams the long bladed knife he'd retrieved into the wound he'd created earlier and BEARS DOWN WITH HIS FULL WEIGHT FOR A FEW SECONDS---enough to earn a scream that makes his ears ring, enough to earn a scream that sought to drown out the loudest of his many machines---and then he wrenches it to the side and digs until he hears a distant snapping sound that could mean only one thing: the blade had broken. Leaving a piece inside---one deep enough that it'd be almost impossible to pull out---would be an interesting deterrent. A kind of dog tag, if you will.

The knife---or at least what remained of its blade a jagged ruin--is then pulled free and then tossed to the side carelessly. "----metal." God, he has to sneer his way around the word, with his weight still driving the other mercilessly into the stained concrete. The pressure causes more of that violet colored blood to emerge from the section of the wound that had barely begun to close over, with said liquid seeming to shine under direct light and then turn black as pitch when set against any of the red colored lights emitting from the next room.

"....More notes to follow." There's another brisk clicking sound as he turns the recorder off with an errant piece of metal capable of doing the job; considering his attention refused to tear itself away from his new subject, not even for a second. "I can make this process very, very, very easy for you Valeriu. Normally I don't do my experiments on living subjects---the cadou doesn't usually take, there's too many risks, blah blah, but for you...? For you I'm considering MAKING AN EXCEPTION and do you want to know why? Because you're interesting. Because I FOUND YOU FIRST BEFORE THAT ROTTEN BITCH COULD EVEN CLAP EYES ON YOU and I never give up what's mine---not without a fight, anyhow. So! Let's make things easy, shall we?"

The Lord shifts his weight then; rising in an oddly smooth most in spite of his size and the cramped room, with his fist balled into the other's dark hair. He pulls the other upward as he stands upright before unceremoniously slamming the other into a chair situated on the nearby wall with astonishing force and speed before leaning in just a little bit---just enough that the red light from the next room reflected off of his dark glasses, just enough that it showcased those all too white teeth of his now bared in a deranged grin. "YOU DON'T WANT TO BE THE EXCEPTION, do you? You're going to LISTEN TO ALL OF MY LITTLE DEMANDS and do what I tell you to do and then you'll see---we'll both see---just how long you stay together. Keep my interest, Valeriu, keep it because that's THE ONLY WAY YOU'RE WALKING OUT OF HERE." That will was his. That venom was his. That fire was his. No matter what all of it would be his.

[ancient-tree-with-deathwish]

for testing (and because i have nothing better to do) i'll use this to make a world rn

1A: the currency most commonly agreed among the people is syllables - specifically, syllables of the name of god, which have been scattered trough the world after the great iconoclasm

1B: approximately 23/25 people in this world live in what we would consider poverty. about half of them are slaves.

2A: the law is controlled by the principalities. unfortunately, divine legislature is physically impossible for a human to comprehend - so the punishments often seem random.

2B: there is no "outside", it is only the city.

2C: petty barons, princes, warlords and slave drivers are in constant squabbles over who gets what land (usually just over a street or two) - anyone who isn't caught up in their foolish power struggles realises that its all temporary anyway.

2D: war is brutal, frequent and foolish. technological disparities across the monumental area of the city means that a soldier is equally as likely to fight with a rock on a stick as with an anticausal reality eater.

3A: the city is everywhere, beneath you, above you, beside you. streets upon steets of 10,000 year old concrete. it doesn't have an edge, reality just stops at some point.

3B: we don't know how, but weather gets into the city's winding tunnels. mostly rain - sometimes snow further up. at the bottom of the city, the endless deluge of rainwater has submerged whole blocks.

3C: to the far north, the city has mainly eroded away. it's the only place the sun is visible - but the heat is oppressive, we can tell the sun is looking at us. to the south, the rain is the worst - reeds grow in the flooded streets. the east has been completely remoulded, trenches upon trenches fighting a stupid war - with no real reason to fight.

3D: throughout the city, occasionally - you'll see the fractured remains of god. they're a little weird to look at - as they are equally mind and flesh. but the alchemists love them, they use the stuff to create world breaking machines.

3E: it is said that people were once plentiful, it's a strange concept now. people are rare - rare enough. you can treck miles and miles trough abandoned streets before meeting someone. god can't just create people anymore, you see - so we're mostly reliant on alchemists to do that now.

4A: the few reliefs that we get here is music - a great many songs have been made since the iconoclasm, and strangely it's one of the few things that have gotten better since. i reckon it's because singing and dancing is a uniquely human thing - so the angels can't so it as well.

4B: people don't build things that often in the city - because it's already been built - usually pure concrete, in a brutally brutalist style. occasionally we make our own stuff - and despite the fact that we know it'll crumble or rot far before a dent is made in the original concrete, we think it looks nicer.

4C: time is strange here - we know it moves, we see it move - but whenever an up and coming alchemist gets the bright idea to measure it, it wriggles and stretches and warps to obscure any efficient means of timekeeping.

4E: life is rare in the city - you can sometimes catch a rat or scavenge some mushrooms or eat a fresh human corpse if you are very lucky. but for most people, the local alchemist has usually got some mystic contraption of other that creates fresh meat or wheat.

4F: nobody remembers the old commandments given to us by god. but there is a man made one that every single child has drilled thoroughly into their head - in these dismal times it is the one simple guiding light that stops the whole world from collapsing in on itself "don't be a bastard".

4G: an outfit is an important thing for someone to have - they are difficult to make, after all you need an alchemist to create the threads alone. so, clothes are haphazardly stitched together. people do not see this as a sign of ugliness though - it is a sign of experience, history and likely foolish bravery.

4H: approximately 400 years ago, there was the iconoclasm - where god fell from the heavens, dead. previously, he had been sustaining the world with his divine might - an eternal golden age - but it seems that the end of forever is drawing near. nowadays alchemists have to use the fractured shards of his body to replicate his miracles (such as creating people).

4I: food is rare, friends are equally uncommon. a cook's job is holy in a uniquely human way. and thus the rules of dining are simple - eat everything, and bring no hate or malice to diner. everything else is up to the chef to specify.

4J: every single town makes an effort to have a historian (often appointed by simply being the oldest) their job is simple and singular - ensure that nobody forgets the lessons of the past, while advising on how to avoid the nastier futures.

4K: unlike the world you know, the city never had a tower of babel - the languages of the world were never shuffled and confused amongst the people here, everyone speaks the same tongue from their very creation.

4L: in the city, there is a strange set of rules around pointing. usually, one should point with the index finger - which means "look here, something interesting". but each of the other fingers symbolises something too; the middle finger is danger, the ring finger conversely means something lifesaving - and all the pinkie finger means is that whatever it is, it's very far awway.

4M: manners are a virtually nonexistent concept throughout most of the city. certain wealthier nobles do have a more developed concept of politeness - but they rarely interact with the poorer folks, and whenever they do, the culture shock is enough to kill them.

4N: something unorthodox about the city are it's customs around greetings. it is common practice to draw one's weapons when meeting someone - it is currently unknown where this tradition began, but it fits the general consensus within the city that violence shouldn't stop people from being friendly (and vice versa).

4O: when god died, he didn't just disappear - he was fractured. most of these shards are fully dead, inert. but some parts managed to survive, these shards are confused and stressed - after all, they are only a fraction of what once was (mentally and physically). but even in this state, they remember their old duties - they have a responsibility to protect mankind. churches sprout around them, like deep sea creatures crowding around a hydrothermal vent.

4P: at the top of society are the prices/barons/warlords (they go by various titles) - they are usually just far enough away from the struggles of life that they forget this is a game of survival - not of glory. below them are the alchemists and priests - utilising the reality bending powers of god's corpse to sustain their domain. then just below them are the historians who keep the records and learn from the mistakes of the past. and finally below all of them are the peasants and slaves who must live die and work for the village at large to keep functioning. they may seem to be the weakest of them all - but they know that their master's power is nothing more than an illusion, an illusion that they maintain just enough to not fall into tyranny or anarchy.

5A: alchemy was a profession that began soon after the iconoclasm (perhaps their curiosity was a way to expel their dread?). they sought to understand the shards of god that dot the city - it was initially viewed as pointless (because the world was ending) but eventually, they discovered how to use the divine power to create more people and food. this lead to the current era, and the current art of alchemy.

5B: although it may seem mystical and esoteric to the unknowing, alchemists are sure to practice scientific rigour in all their experiments (mainly because it is very difficult to simply guesstimate things beyond mortal comprehension)

5C: the most common alchemical machine utilised by the people of the city is a genesis engine - it essentially automates the production of a human being, producing one every 5 years or so. it is possible to make them go faster, but they usually end up making strange useless things called "babies". another more... existential one is the anticausal reality eater, it simply stops someone from ever being created - removing them from history.

5D: alchemy is a complicated science, but there are 3 universal rules that have been discovered so far. 1 - the flow of time cannot be measured or altered. 2 - when it comes to god flesh, there is no difference between mind and matter. 3 - the laws of reality are only suggestions.

6C: most people do not have fancy advanced alchemical machines. the average technological level is somewhere around the medieval age of your world.

6D: disease is uncommon amongst the city, due to the absence of livestock and general low population - so on those rare occasions where an infection does spread, the people of the city have no defences. except for the plague doctors, they do not talk often, and they know the cures to the foulest of plagues. some madmen insist they originate from beyond the city, but the city has no "beyond".

6D: unfortunately, the best form of transport money can afford within the city are your own two legs.

WORLD BUILDING CHECKLIST

If you are writing a book/story that takes place in another world, I have provided for you the complete world building checklist to ensure that you know your world inside out.

Economy A. Currency B. Poverty rate/line

Government A. Crime & Legal System B. Foreign Relations C. Politics D. War

The Land A. Physical & Historical Features B. Climate C. Geography D. Natural Resources E. Population

Society & Culture A. Arts, Entertainment, & Recreation B. Architecture C. Calendar D. Daily Life. E. Diet F. Ethics & Values G. fashion & Dress H. History I. Dining Customs J. Education K. Language L. Gestures M. Manners N. Meeting & Greeting O. Religion & Philosophy P. Social organization

Magic A. Magicians B. Magic and science C. Magic & Technology D. Rules of Magic

Technology C. Technology D. Medicine D. Transportation & Communication you're welcome <3

Fell free to reblog and fill it out if you want. I am curious to see the worlds in my fellow writers heads.

Follow me @leisureflame for more posts like this!

[pasayinv]

AAC Block Manufacturing: Step-by-Step Process from Factory to Construction

AAC blocks, also known as Autoclaved Aerated Concrete blocks, are the future of construction due to their lightweight, eco-friendly, and high-strength properties. Evergreen Enterprises is a leading manufacturer of AAC blocks, providing top-quality products for sustainable construction. In this blog, we will walk you through the step-by-step AAC block manufacturing process, from raw materials to final construction.

Step 1: Raw Material Selection

The manufacturing of AAC blocks starts with carefully selected raw materials, including:

1.Cement – Acts as a binding material

2.Fly ash – A key ingredient providing strength and sustainability

3.Lime – Enhances the aeration process

4.Gypsum – Improves durability

5.Aluminum Powder – Reacts with lime and fly ash to form air pockets

These materials are proportionally mixed to ensure the best quality AAC blocks.

Step 2: Mixing and Slurry Preparation

The raw materials are mixed with water in a large slurry tank to form a uniform mixture. The addition of aluminum powder causes a chemical reaction, generating hydrogen gas, which creates tiny air bubbles. This aeration process makes AAC blocks lightweight and porous.

Step 3: Molding and Rising

The prepared slurry is poured into large molds, where it begins to expand. The controlled rising process gives AAC blocks their signature aerated structure. The mixture is left to set for a few hours before it is ready for cutting.

Step 4: Cutting into Desired Shapes

Once the block has gained sufficient strength, it is cut into standard sizes using precision wire cutting machines. The automated cutting process ensures that each AAC block is uniform in shape and size, making it easier to use in construction.

Step 5: Autoclaving for Strength

The cut blocks are then transferred to an autoclave, where they are cured under high-pressure steam at around 180°C for 10-12 hours. This autoclaving process enhances the strength and durability of AAC blocks, making them ideal for long-lasting structures.

Step 6: Quality Control and Testing

Evergreen Enterprises ensures that every AAC block undergoes rigorous quality checks, including:

1.Compressive strength testing

2.Density and weight analysis

3.Thermal insulation performance

4.Soundproofing efficiency

Only blocks that meet the highest industry standards are sent for distribution.

Step 7: Packaging and Dispatch

The finished AAC blocks are packed and transported to construction sites. Evergreen Enterprises ensures timely delivery, maintaining product quality during transit.

Step 8: Construction with AAC Blocks

Builders and architects prefer AAC blocks due to their easy handling, energy efficiency, and fire resistance. These blocks are used in various applications, including:

1.Residential and commercial buildings

2.Industrial structures

3.Hospitals and schools

Conclusion

Evergreen Enterprises is a trusted name in the AAC block manufacturing industry, offering:

1.High-quality, eco-friendly AAC blocks

2.Cost-effective and energy-efficient solutions

3.Reliable and timely delivery

Whether you’re planning a small home or a large commercial project, AAC blocks from Evergreen Enterprises are the perfect choice for sustainable and durable construction.

For more details, contact Evergreen Enterprises today and get premium-quality AAC blocks for your next construction project!

[vipblogposting]

Choosing the Right Tools for High-Quality Concrete Finishing

Concrete finishing is an essential part of any construction or renovation project. Whether you’re preparing a surface for polishing or ensuring a smooth foundation, having the right equipment makes all the difference. Investing in high-quality concrete grinding tools and polished concrete equipment ensures efficiency, durability, and a flawless finish.

Why High-Quality Concrete Grinding Tools Matter

The process of grinding concrete is crucial for preparing surfaces, removing imperfections, and creating a smooth and level base. Using subpar tools can lead to uneven finishes, excessive dust, and frequent replacements, adding unnecessary costs and labor.

For professionals and DIY enthusiasts in Australia, having access to reliable Concrete Grinding Tools Australia is a game-changer. These tools help in:

Smoothing rough surfaces for coatings and sealers

Removing adhesives, paint, and stains

Enhancing surface texture for better durability

When choosing the right tools, factors like diamond grit, bond type, and machine compatibility should be considered. A high-performance grinding tool ensures minimal effort while achieving the best results.

Essential Polished Concrete Equipment for a Perfect Finish

Polishing concrete is an art that requires the right tools and techniques. Whether for commercial spaces, homes, or industrial floors, polished concrete offers a sleek, modern look that’s durable and easy to maintain. However, achieving that smooth, glossy finish requires top-notch polished concrete equipment.

Some essential tools include:

Diamond grinding discs: These help in refining the surface, gradually increasing the smoothness.

Concrete polishers: Designed to enhance shine and durability.

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Selecting the right equipment ensures longevity and high-quality results. Investing in premium tools will not only make your job easier but also save time and money in the long run.

Finding the Best Concrete Tools in Australia

For those looking for reliable tools, Diamond Tool Warehouse is a trusted name in the industry. They offer a range of products designed for professionals and DIYers who require top-tier performance. From grinding discs to polishing machines, they provide solutions for all concrete finishing needs.

Whether you need concrete grinding tools Australia for surface preparation or Polished concrete equipment for achieving a mirror-like finish, choosing a reputable supplier is key. Working with a trusted provider ensures that you get durable, high-quality tools that enhance efficiency and results.

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To maximize the performance of your tools and equipment, follow these expert tips:

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Keep tools clean: Regularly clean grinding and polishing tools to extend their lifespan.

Use proper technique: Apply consistent pressure and work in overlapping passes for an even result.

Invest in dust control: Using dust extraction systems improves safety and visibility while working.

Enhance Your Concrete Finishing with the Right Equipment

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