#caustic corp

[twilightarcade]

books

#notwordswordstag #caustic corp #that iris dude. tbh any pronouns but I tend to lean on he/it #these are getting done super mega inconsistently I just had this sketch and took this as an excuse to finish it #other one (ahse) is a goofy experimental piece thats an excuse to draw with a focus on backgrounds and also going to get procracinated on #till like. One Day. The Day which I get 50 things done #when that will be I am not certain #otherother one (wilarod) is also getting done............... #I wouldn’t say anything n be mysterious or whatever crap but it was too stupid. the books in the background say something #idk yk. reading my excessive tags bonus #if it was translated wrong that would be pretty sad and you should beat me to death about it. Btw. #there's nothing that's not visible unless you count the partially covered ones #I think I had something else to say but I forgot </3 #pretend I said something revolutionary here.. ok?

[byenycfm]

Kang-Dae Jackson || 29 || #901 || Big Matthew || Closed

Personality:

a dog , a brute , too smart to be so caustic. there’s always a sarcastic bite of a reply on his tongue. there’s always a fight in his bones. he’s calmed down a lot now that he’s an adult , boot camp beat a lot of the need to gnash his teeth at the world out of him. it’s less reflexive , but anyone with a brain can see his always figuratively gnawing at the bit that’s holding his jaws apart , keeping him from clenching so tight he breaks his own teeth to spite his face. when he was younger it was a loud tone colored with curses & bruised knuckles because he preferred to do the talking with his fists. now that he’s older & forced to mature , it’s constant pinched eyebrows & a grating drawl that’s somehow simultaneously uncaring & pissed off. untrusting & suspicious of those around him. he prefers to keep to himself & is a healthy combination of his military training & his base crass disposition. he struggles to make substantial connections because of this inherent distrust , but as far as he’s concerned , it’s what’s kept him alive through his high profile work & now this apocalyptic outbreak. all of that being said , he’s intelligent , he’s realistic , he gets shit done. he can think through a problem or a plan , & he can execute flawlessly because being angry at the world doesn’t make unable to function without exploding - not that he doesn’t like to explode - he just now has an understanding that it shouldn’t be the automatic answer to all of life’s problems. when someone is able to push through the nearly instinctual way he bites & barks , they find a man who is endlessly devoted to them. someone who would bend over backwards & burn down what’s left of the world just because they said they needed the light to see & keep warm. that’s the thing to know about kang - he does it all the way , or he ignores it entirely ; there’s no middle ground & he’s never half-assed a thing in his life. the worst person to have against you , & the best person to have standing next to you. he’s a dog , through & through.

Biography:

growing up in the texas suburbs of carrolton did kang-dae jackson a lot of favors. never had a hand-me-down , got the antique ‘64 mustang shelby on his 16th birthday because he’d kept his grades up. one could look at his track record in school & say that maybe the privilege gave him too many favors - he was held back two grades in elementary school on grounds of not being mature enough to be promoted , he bullied his best friend relentlessly all through middle school. he frustrated the hell out of his mother & school teachers & admins because he was obviously smart , his grades reflected that ; but his delinquent file & in school suspension report folder was nearly as thick as all the tests his mother kept that had that shiny , red ‘A+’ at the top.

he calmed down more when he hit high school. he was already professionally shitty to almost everyone he came into contact with , & puberty actually helped him balance out a little bit in his last years of lower education. instead of outright bullying his best friend ( because he had a giant crush on him ) , he was more protective & an awkward but supportive actual friend to him. instead of punching the people who pissed them off , he decimated them with his words instead , which still landed him in detention , but he was seen as much less of a volatile problem & more of an occasional hazard. not that the private boy’s prep school he went to appreciated his behavior on any level , which is why when the military recruiters came by his senior year , they all but shoved him their way - telling that marine corps salesman ‘have we got the perfect boy for you!’. when kang mocked the surprise on his face at the reserve pitch , the uniformed gentleman knew he’d found a winner. graduation came & went quickly , & kang’s mother was equal parts sad & relieved to help her son pack her bags to be shipped off to san diego for boot camp.

boot camp was the ( literal ) kick to the teeth that kang needed to finally understand that being so automatically abrasive as a response to every piece of stimuli in his life was not the way to go. he learned respect , he learned to wait & watch , he learned that there was merit & power in biting his tongue. some people couldn’t handle the extremes , some people were damaged from the experience , but kang was one of the few that really took to the training that the military had to offer. unaware , he was watched by his superiors from day one. it wasn’t often that someone with his test scores also had his disposition ; they knew if he could shape out & fill out , he would be a force to recon with. & by the time basic training was over & they were ready to pick an MOS. . . they had no idea how correct they were. before he could fill out his paperwork to make his own selection , he was approached by the blacksuits & asked about his family , his connections , any & every thing he’d ever done that might have a paper trail. at first he didn’t understand the run down , but then it became clear that he was being vetted for secruity clearence , they wanted him to go special ops. he was never asked , he was never given another option , & at first it had pissed him off , jaw ticking next to his ear - but he fell into the training so effortlessly , passed every exam without flaws & consistently showed top scores , that he learned to put a little faith in the powers that be. maybe if the right ones were watching , it wasn’t so bad to go with the flow.

from there , everything always happened so quickly. he was dragged from one place to another , more shinies added to his chest , more badges sewn into his uniforms. . . seldom getting the opportunity to go home & see his mom or his friends back home. he quickly became one of the most trusted marines to do high - level security duty , black suits & corded devices in his ears as he transported senators & presidents & foreign liaisons. he got to travel the world & see some cool people & see some cool places , but he became nameless , faceless , forgettable. he enjoyed the work at first , but as the years dragged on , he liked it less & less. he missed his home. he missed his mom , he missed his best friend. but duty was duty & he’d sold away his freedom to the military so he was left with no choice.

until the outbreak. he’d all but been thrown on a private jet back to the states. they knew of the outbreak before the media did , & he was able to cross the border back in without a hitch. they shipped him straight to new york city , there was a team from the cdc that was having an issue controlling the environment enough to do their work , & it was his job to keep the crawlers off them so they could do their potential world - saving work. his anxieties had been with his mom back home , but they’d assured him nothing had reached as far as texas yet. she was aware of the situation because of the news , & he demanded & cussed until he got a phone call to make sure she was safe before he stepped of the plane. thoughts steady on home , on the people from what used to be his life. . . 

just to step off the plane & see a green mop of hair that he used to shove down. those pretty curls that he grew to think were so adorable , above freckles that dusted tan checks , above a mouth that was twisted in concentration as he leaned over a giant portable suit-case computer that was bright & green against his glasses. the object of his life-long obsession , his best friend that he thought after so frequently over the last several years , right before his eyes , being the subject he was supposed to protect. the boy he regretted bullying once he had vision enough to pull his head out of his ass. funny how things worked , huh ?

if things happened quickly before , now they were speeding by kang in a manner he could barely keep up with. training kicked in & he moved automatically , bullet after bullet between the eyes of any crawler he could snipe , charged with protection and saving ammunition & supplies. the team outside of sev himself was small , & a few of them got injured , a few of them kicked it , hell a few of them even ran in a selfish attempt to save their hides. but not sev , never sev. focused on the goal , so focused that when the muttering about ‘not being able to do enough , or see enough from here ’ got louder, kang was hell-bent on doing whatever he could to see his vision through , even if it meant deserting his post. & then like the universe was just as hell-bent on delivering sev to what he needed , their camp was over-run & the team was dispersed , forced to separate. kang kept to the scientists heels , rifle in one hand , field knife in the other until they reached a beacon of light called the wexley.

the occupants readily let them in , seemingly thankful for another capable set of hands. they’d quickly find that kang’s loyalty was already totally tied up & spoken for. . . 

Pre Outbreak Occupation: USMC Special Ops Previous Zombie Experience: very up close & personal as he protected a base camp at the edge of the island before literally fighting his way into the wexler. Martial Status: Single Children:  N/A Residence: Loft #901 Years residing at The Wexley: 0 Connections: 

Seven Du - Ensured that Sev made it safely to the Wexley. Currently rooming with them as they’re unsure they can trust any of the Wexley’s residents.

#chara #closed #floor9 #jackson

[pictor-occidens]

Infantry squad of the 1st Platoon, 1st Company of the Armageddon Steel Legion 476th regiment, the Void Dogs. Tithed to the Astra Militarum offworld forces to fight in the vast expanse of the Imperium Nihilus, the Void Dogs have spent years fighting in the barren expanses and under the caustic rain of the Adanac Reach's hive forges.

Often tasked with holding actions and mechanized assaults under the command of Grand Marshal Artorius of the Black Templars, the Void Dogs have suffered a great many casualties over the course of the Marshal's Crusade, and have only sporadically been reinforced by local forge-fanes and planetary defense corps.

+++THOUGHT FOR THE DAY+++ ~ A coward always seeks compromise ~

#warhammer #warhammer 40k #adanac reach crusade #astra militarum #imperial guard #armageddon steel legion

[pridepoisoned]

SAVAGE SHAKEDOWN STYLE! (P:LA ANCESTOR VERSE)

VERSE TAGS: PLA VERSE., (v: ceres evergreen)

SUMMARY: I’ve officially decided that Jupiter doesn’t have ancestor representation in Arceus (Melli doesn’t count), so I’m going to do it myself. Ceres was born in the unforgiving Alabaster Icelands, quickly learning about adaptability and survival in the midst of the ruthless climate. Throughout Ceres’s childhood, members of the Pearl Clan tried their hardest to establish a settlement on the ice, though the brutal conditions often destroyed their civilization efforts. During a particularly nasty blizzard, Ceres was separated from her people while out foraging, forced to live off the land until a member of the newly-formed Galaxy Team stumbled across her impromptu campsite. In recognition of her survival skills and strength, Ceres was assigned a role in the Security Corps, given her first Pokemon (a Sneasel) and taken back to Jubilife Village.   

However, Ceres wasn’t used to settling down or following orders, bristling under Kamado’s harsh oversight and Zisu’s focus-based training exercises. During one fateful night, she struck out by herself again...and ran into the Miss Fortune sisters, fellow outcasts who desired more from the growing region. After a classic battle first, talk later, Ceres joined the unlawful (thrice-defeated) bandits, adding several thieving tactics to her repertoire over time. Adapting the pseudonym ‘Cat,’ she now provides additional force and much-needed survivalist know-how to the squad.

However, even though she’s part of a group that takes what it wants, Ceres usually wanders around Hisui as a solo act, vulturing campsites, terrorizing traveling merchants, and selling off stolen valuables (even Pokemon.) With all of these unethical endeavors, Ceres has flipped an impressive profit with dirty money, though she can’t seem to settle down. Her drive, her selfish hunger for more--much like her descendants--seems to be insatiable.   

KEY HEADCANONS

Ceres lost her right eye in an encounter with an Alpha Beartic. While she lacks vision on that side, her senses have been supercharged from Zisu’s training and a near-lifetime spent in the Hisuian wilderness. 

Although technically born in Pearl Clan territory, Ceres feels no special allegiance towards either side (or the deities that they worship.)

While she is very skilled in hand-to-hand and Pokemon combat, Ceres willingly fights dirty to gain an advantage, often using sneak attacks (to ambush lone travelers) and Sneasler’s poison (to overpower prey.)

If you come up on the short end of an encounter with Ceres, prepare to pay up with cash, goods, and/or your Pokemon. She’s a shakedown artist, after all.

Ceres is fascinated by Pokemon, the rarer the better. While she does sell off nearly all of her captures (in secret, to willing buyers), she keeps a sharp lookout for new species to add to her mental collection.

Due to her desertion from the Security Corps, Ceres is not allowed to step foot in Jubilife Village. However, she has many ‘clients’ who either meet her outside the gates or secretly in the dead of night.   

Ceres is less eloquent than her descendant, but she still knows how to dig deep and put plenty of caustic bite behind her words.

Sneasler (Liss) is her right-hand Pokemon, though Ceres’s Overqwil (Lila) provides additional power and easy transport across water (watch out for those spikes!)

#(GOOD MORNING!!) #(this verse wasnt gonna happen and then it just did LOL) #(will probably rb this in the eve but i finally have some time to just Sit today hahah) #(will probably post a call sometime soon for everyone!) #(the miss fortune angle is underrepped in here so have a vagabond) #(v: ceres evergreen)

[diethrice]

SHANNON WILLIAMS - info dump

bull-headed, over-educated, virginian lady. has garnered a professional and private reputation as being both intensely meticulous and somewhat caustic, though generally well-meaning.

former mentee of richard voss, the founder of voss corp. a biomedical company. a bond built on verbal sparring, the pair have an incredibly close and tumultuous relationship, more closely resembling that of father and daughter.

hematopathologist granted incredibly rare early access into voss corp to study the supposed miracle-like properties of a synthetic blood manufactured by the company.

overconsumption of said blood causes rapid and violent mutation, the likes of which are often euthanized at the first stirrings of symptoms to maintain a level of secrecy.

shannon is attacked fairly early on into her time there, but awakes to find herself miraculously healed, having been fed the blood.

she is not fully aware of the larger impacts of the blood until much much later.

general summary : shannon was offered the rare opportunity to study voss's early innovations in synthetic blood. during her time working alongside the doctors at vc, she is attacked by what she'd later be able it identify as one of the testers, left to fester under observation. she would eventually kill those, within voss, too far gone as an act of mercy and richard voss. ( main verse would follow her time with vc. later verses, after the death of richard voss, follow shannone attempt to reroute the future of the company she'd inherited. )

additional note : the strain shannon was treated with is significantly less volatile, producing less extreme mutations but also slower results. this was purely an act of favoritism and would become a recurring source of conflict between shannon and richard.

HEAVILY inspired by bloodborn.e's church of heal.ing but also:

#i think this psd is pychehelic #+ INFO. #i also have a general supernatural au in which shan is just a vampire hunter who happens to keep her vamp'd dad in a barn on their property #she's not *pro* vamp as a whole but she isn't okay with the idea of killing something for the simple sin of being alive

[roccioletti]

Il corpo caustico.

Specchio, corpo, sagomatore

Dinky seguipersona.

Nessuna postproduzione degli scatti.

Performance, 2024.

The caustic body.

Mirror, body, contourer

Dinky follow-up-person.

No post-production of the shots.

Performance, 2024.

Le corps caustique.

Miroir, corps, façonneur

Dinky sur-le-dos.

Pas de post-production des photos.

Performance, 2024.

Rossella Ferrero, Andrea Roccioletti

www.roccioletti.com

#contemporaryart #performance

#art #contemporaryart #performance #artwork #artists on tumblr

[verumking]

“And why, pray tell, should I make it easy?'

⚔️ *:･ﾟ✧┆royal & fantasy romance prompts. ❪ accepting! ❫

Arguably a greater war than with Gigas Corp's militia, was the relentless battle with Serenity's stubbornness. There wasn't a sunless day where the sovereign had heeded Yozora's warnings, instead choosing to gallivant around the rapidly destabilising streets of Tokyo-- be his domain or hers.

It was times like these, when the Verum Rex doubted Serenity's commitment to returning their worlds as they were. The roseate queen dared to encroach his space, both challenging and teasing his authority with mere proximity alone. Whetted tongue mocking the very notion of cooperation.

Titanium spine stiffened, heterochromatic gaze caustic upon her seraphic features. Why should she make it easy? ❛  Because the alternative is making this increasingly difficult, for both of us.  ❜ Yozora snarled, maw locked and bared before the matriarch. Their lips being inches apart proved no distraction to the draconian king. ❛  And I have little patience for whatever game you think this is.  ❜

@rosahope

#rosahope #⚔️ *:･ﾟ✧┆he was the monster you created. ❪ replies ❫ #⚔️ *:･ﾟ✧┆deus ex machina; god from the machine. ❪ vs: verum rex | main ❫ #( :wistful: ) #⚔️ *:･ﾟ✧┆paradise entwined; moon sovereign & death divine. ❪ rs: rosahope ❫

[chemanalystdata]

Sodium Silicate Market | Global Industry Size, Share, Analysis Report, 2035 | ChemAnalyst

 

According to ChemAnalyst report, “Sodium Silicate Market Analysis: Plant Capacity, Production, Operating Efficiency, Demand & Supply, Type, End-User Industries, Sales Channel, Regional Demand, Company Share, Foreign Trade, 2015-2035”, The Sodium Silicate market is likely to experience a significant increase by reaching 14.5 million tonnes in 2035, at an expected CAGR of 3.71% during the forecast period. The increasing demand for Sodium Silicate from Precipitated Silica, Detergents, Paper Production, Titanium White, Ceramic Materials, and other end-use industries, is expected to boost the demand for Sodium Silicate market in the coming years.

Sodium Silicate or waterglass is prepared industrially by when silica (quartz sand), caustic soda, and water are treated with hot steam in a reactor. This compound is readily soluble in water and displays properties like stability at high temperature, binding properties, resistance to acidic medium and basic medium. The applications include detergents, paper making, drilling fluids, soaps, refractory cement, zeolites, adhesives, mineral processing, and more. Further it is used as a corrosion inhibitor and useful in various industries.

Moreover, across the globe, the expansion of the Sodium Silicate market is primarily driven to produce Precipitated Silica. Precipitated Silica have various applications like paints, varnish, coatings, adhesives, soaps, adhesives, and others. Moreover, Sodium silicate also tends to have applications in the Paper Industry as well. It is frequently used as an adhesive to bond paper boards and cardboard, as well as a stabiliser for pulp bleaching and an additive for de-inkling recycled paper. Thus, it is a commercially significant chemical for recycling paper and this industry to swell the Sodium Silicate in the forecast period.

Read Full Report Here: https://www.chemanalyst.com/industry-report/sodium-silicate-market-703

The Sodium Silicate market is segmented based on type, end-use, sales channel, and region. The market is segmented on type: Based on type, the Sodium Silicate market is segregated into Liquid and Dry Solid. Liquid type currently dominates the global Sodium Silicate market and expects to dominate the market in the coming years.

Based on end-uses, the Sodium Silicate market is segregated into Precipitated Silica, Detergents, Paper Production, Titanium White, Ceramic Materials, and others. The Precipitated Silica industry is the dominating the Sodium Silicate market with the demand of approximately 37% in 2021. It will most likely stay the biggest industry during the forecast period due to growing demand of sealants in future. Furthermore, Detergents and Paper Production Industry are also the prominent consumers of the Sodium Silicate market.

Asia Pacific dominates the global Sodium Silicate market, consuming about with a demand of approximately 49% of the global million tonnes of Sodium Silicate among all other regions. In construction of infrastructure, sodium silicate is used as a binder, concrete refractories, and concrete strengthening to provide the structures more strength. As a result, during the projected period, infrastructure development in developing countries like India and China will drive growth in the global Sodium Silicate market. Based on production, USA is leading across the globe. In 2021, the Sodium Silicate production by companies situated in USA produced more than 35% of the global Sodium Silicate production.

Request Sample Report: Sodium Silicate Market Analysis

 “Sodium Silicate Market Analysis: Plant Capacity, Production, Operating Efficiency, Demand & Supply, Type, End-User Industries, Sales Channel, Regional Demand, Company Share, Foreign Trade, 2015-2035”, the significant players functional in the Sodium Silicate market include PQ Corp., Occidental Petroleum Corporation-Oxy (Diamond Shamrock), CIECH Vitrosilicon S.A., DuPont de Nemours, Qingdao Dongyue Sodium Silicate Co., Ltd., Kiran Global Chems Limited, Wecan Industrial Corporation, and others.

“The rapidly increasing demand for precipitated silica and paper is expected to boost the Sodium Silicate market in the forecast period until 2035. Consistently growing demand for Sodium Silicate, for pulp bleaching and de-inkling paper implies its significance in paper making and paper recycling. Furthermore, its employment for preparation of precipitated silica which is further employed for making adhesives for usage in the construction industry is anticipated to further Global Sodium Silicate market expansion in the coming years “Said Mr. Karan Chechi, Research Director with TechSci Research, a research-based management consulting firm promoting ChemAnalyst worldwide.

About Us: 

ChemAnalyst is a subsidiary of Techsci Research, which was established in 2008, and has been providing exceptional management consulting to its clients across the globe for over a decade now. For the past four years, ChemAnalyst has been a prominent provider of Chemical commodity prices in more than 15 countries. We are a team of more than 100 Chemical Analysts who are committed to provide in-depth market insights and real-time price movement for 300+ chemical and petrochemical products. ChemAnalyst has reverberated as a preferred pricing supplier among Procurement managers and Strategy professionals worldwide. On our platform, we provide an algorithm-based subscription where users can track and compare years of historical data and prices based on grades and incoterms (CIF, CFR, FOB, & EX-Works) in just one go.

The ChemAnalyst team also assists clients with Market Analysis for over 1200 chemicals including assessing demand & supply gaps, locating verified suppliers, choosing whether to trade or manufacture, developing Procurement Strategies, monitoring imports and exports of Chemicals, and much more. The users will not only be able to analyze historical data for past years but will also get to inspect detailed forecasts for the upcoming years. With access to local field teams, the company provides high-quality, reliable market analysis data for more than 40 countries.

ChemAnalyst is your one-stop solution for all data-related needs. We at ChemAnalyst are dedicated to accommodate all of our world-class clients with their data and insights needs via our comprehensive online platform.

Contact Us:

ChemAnalyst

B-44 Sector-57 Noida,

National Capital Region

Tel: [phone]

Mob: [phone]

Email: [email protected]

Website: https://www.chemanalyst.com/

#Sodium Silicate Market

[writeintrees]

NaNoWriMo day 25

67,937 words

I’m adding as I edit, slowly but surely.

Moth sat and pulled their legs up onto the chair with them. The room smelled of sweat and anticipation.

Ari put the footage onto the screens on the middle of the war room table. Moth’s mom ground her teeth. Moth still didn’t know what they were looking at.

“Clones,” Ari whispered.

The ground swooped out from under them for the second time that day. Clones? No, people weren’t legally allowed to clone even themselves. There were all these legal restrictions and it was banned under some ethical law for the entirety of Petra.

“You don’t seem surprised,” Ari said to their mom.

“Tuin Corp has done it before. I’d just hoped they’d learned their lesson.”

“You knew?” Moth said caustically.

“Darling, let’s get into this later,” she said in a tone that usually allowed for no argument.

They weren’t going to just shut up and keep calm. Not when there was the biggest instance of Tuin breaking the law and she kept that from them.

“No. I think you’re going to explain now, in front of everyone.” They tapped their finger forcefully onto the table, then looked around at the other shocked gazes around the room.

#writeblr #writing #milo speaks #milo writes #nano 2022 #nanowrimo

[twilightarcade]

more yoinking them out of situations…..

#notwordswordstag #caustic corp #watch tumblr compress the hell out of THIS ONE #this is literally all I’ve done all day. I am the sleepiest girlie alive #HUGE shout out to unnamed friend who looked at it for me ily <3 (they will never see this) #you may be wondering if they’re dating or something! I don’t know! #realistically they probably wouldn’t have time for that. But like. Theoretically. #there’s a few little things in here but one thing I will say is that their bracelets (obviously cut off because. Logic.) say each others na #name. for funzies #mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm ya

[arcticstarexplorationcorp]

More Proof Sequoia May Have >50ct Diamonds According to Arctic Star Reports and Nitrogen-Free Diamonds

50 percent of the 12 >0.3mm diamonds recovered from the Sequoia kimberlite complex in 2021 are nitrogen-free type IIa diamonds, according to analysis.

This finding supports other lines of evidence, including the diamond size distribution and diamond descriptions, suggesting this kimberlite complex has the potential to contain diamonds weighing more than 50 carats (all described as clear white).

More drilling definition is being done, which will help with future bulk sample plans that aim to recover more than 1500ct of commercial stones. May 17th, 2022 British Columbia, Vancouver Arctic Star Exploration Corp. ("Arctic Star" or the "Company") (TSXV: ADD) (Frankfurt: 82A2) (WKN: A2DFY5) (OTC: ASDZF) is happy to announce that it has received the findings of a diamond type study based on twelve >0.3mm diameter diamonds that were recovered by caustic fusion analysis of the Sequoia Kimberlite in 2021, on its Diagras diamond property

Fourier Transform Infrared ("FTIR") Spectrometry was used to study the diamonds at the Saskatchewan Research Council Diamond laboratory in Saskatoon (an ISO/IEC 1705 Standard lab). The concentration and status of nitrogen aggregation in the diamonds are assessed using this kind of spectrometry. On the basis of the presence or absence of nitrogen impurities, diamonds are broadly classified into two types (I and II), and these types are further split into subtypes depending on the arrangement of nitrogen atoms (isolated or aggregated) and the existence of boron impurities.

According to the findings, 33% Type IaA and 17% Type IaB diamonds, 50% of the diamonds are nitrogen-free Type IIa diamonds. See Figure 1 for a pie graph illustrating the outcomes. This is in contrast to the estimated global distribution, where Type IaA diamonds predominate (96%), while Type IIa diamonds barely account for 2%.

Figure 1 shows the distribution of several diamond varieties found in Sequoia Kimberlite Caustic Fusion on the left and their estimated global distribution on the right.

Letseng-la-Terae (Letseng Mine) in the Kingdom of Lesotho and Karowe in Botswana are two of the few operating diamond mines that consistently produce Type IIa diamonds. Letseng is a modest grade (1.5-3 cpht) kimberlite, while Karowe is about (15 cpht), but both are very economic deposits since they are the most common source of big, high-value Type IIa diamonds. These kinds of diamonds are also thought to be present in the Koloa pipe, a component of the Ekati mining complex, which is located 34 kilometres west of the Sequoia kimberlite complex.

No nitrogen or boron impurities can be found in type IIa diamonds, which are typically top white colours (D, E, F, or G) or brownish hues. There are a lot of Type IIa pink and brownish-pink diamonds as well. The normal crystal structure of type IIa diamonds is anhedral, and they can have a variety of elongated, deformed, or irregular morphologies. All ten of the largest known rough diamonds recovered globally, ranging in size from the 726 carat Jonker to the 3,106 carat Cullinan, are Type IIa diamonds, which make up a major percentage of high-value, top-color, huge specialties (greater than 10.8 carats). Intriguingly, inclusion analyses reveal that the vast majority of these big stones originated from very deep layers.

Results of a study of the indicator minerals retrieved from Sequoia, which were examined and evaluated by Chuck Fipke, were made public by Arctic Star on September 9th, 2021. The >50ct big Type IIa diamonds from Leteseng, Karowe, and Ekati are coupled with unusually abundant deeply sourced indicator minerals ($DI indicators). Thus, this research anticipated the existence of Type IIa diamonds, which the FTIR has since validated.

"The presence of a significant proportion of Type IIa diamonds in the Sequoia kimberlite complex caustic fusion samples is another line of evidence of the potential to host plus 50ct, high value diamonds, backed up by the collaborative indicator chemistry and the relatively coarse, low gradient diamond size distribution," says Buddy Doyle, vice president of exploration. Since most kimberlites have a mix with a significant percentage of boart, it is odd that SRC describes all the diamonds as clean and white.

"Arctic Star is actively drilling the Sequoia kimberlite to outline its size and shape and acquire more diamonds via caustic fusion to further constrain the grade," Buddy Doyle stated. "Current advice places the grade at between 20cpht and 70cpht. The work done this year's diamonds will also be subjected to FTIR analysis. The knowledge acquired will enable the creation of a bulk sample >1500 carats, which might be retrieved in early 2023. We will be able to calculate the average value per carat, which is crucial for comprehending the economic value of this complex, after we receive the diamonds from the huge sample.

These references, which served as the basis for this news release, are pointed out to the reader.

The "Type" categorization system of diamonds and its significance in gemology, by Breeding, C.M. and Shigley, J.E. Pages 96–111 of Gems & Gemology Vol. 45 No. 2

The Very Deep Origin of the World's Biggest Diamonds, Smith, E.M., Shirey, S.B., and Wang, 2017. Pages 389–403 of Gems & Gemology Vol. 53 No. 4

https://www.gia.edu/gems-gemology/winter-2017-worlds-biggest-diamonds

Suitable Individual

Buddy Doyle, AUSIMM, a geologist with more than 35 years of experience in diamond exploration, finding, and appraisal, is the Qualified Person for this news release. a person who qualifies as such within the terms of National Instrument 43-101.

Regarding Arctic Star

In the abundant Lac De Gras kimberlite area, which is home to two multibillion dollar kimberlite mining complexes, Arctic Star is primarily a diamond explorer and has just found 5 new kimberlites there. On its Timantti property in Kuusamo, Finland, the company also holds a 958Ha Exploration permit that contains a number of diamond-bearing kimberlites. Arctic Star has granted GGL diamonds the opportunity to work on the Stein diamond property in Nunavut once the Covid restrictions are lifted. The business keeps searching for suitable diamond possibilities overseas.

ON BEHALF OF THE ARCTIC STAR EXPLORATION CORP. BOARD OF DIRECTORS.

[phone] [email protected] Patrick Power, President & CEO

The sufficiency or correctness of this announcement are not guaranteed by the TSX Venture Exchange or its Regulation Services Provider (as that term is defined in the TSX Venture Exchange's rules).

[chemianiemieckadodomu]

Wash Chemicals

Using the right mix of soaps, waxes and detergents paves the way to effective car washes. Any unauthorized or unauthentic chemicals on your car may damage its look forever. It's always advisable to use brands and companies that have a proven track record and have a booming car wash business.

Chemicals used in a car wash business include waxes and sealants, polishes, glazes, shampoos, tire and vinyl dressings, body compounds, foamers and soaps. Each manufacturer comes up with new and innovative combinations of chemicals for higher efficiency in car wash bays.

It is important to choose compounds that best suit most types of vehicles. There are heavy-duty, medium-duty and ultra-light compounds. Starting with a light compound and then gradually going over to heavy-duty compounds is recommended for people washing their own cars themselves.

ChemQuest is a major manufacturer of car wash chemicals; they have a complete line-up of products for every car wash need. Their soap-based chemicals include presoaks for friction car washes, tire cleaning chemicals for touch-free car washes and foam conditioners for both. The products for after-wash, such as polishes, waxes and drying agents for touch-free and friction car washes, are also made and marketed by ChemQuest. Know more here chemia niemiecka do domu

Warsaw Chemicals also have an array of car wash chemicals including floor and windshield cleaners. Blue Moon, the car wash liquid from Warsaw chemicals, for example, is a concentrated high-foaming detergent that can be used for both hand and automatic car wash systems.

Anti-rust chemicals are an important part of car washing. Kaady Chemical Corp. has a wide range of non-acidic, phosphate-free and non-caustic products that ensure a rust-free long life for a car. TWB Tire, Wheel, and Body cleaner from this company is a cost-effective product, the use of which will get a car clean without the help of any other chemicals.

[girlsofcomics]

Bleez

-Real name: Bleez

-A.k.a.: The angel of the red lanterns, the raging angel, red angel, red-wing, The Red Lantern

-Publisher: DC Comics

-Type: Alien  

-Afilliations: Red Lantern Corps, Emerald Warriors, New Guardians

-Powers: Expels acid, animating, caustic effect, power suit, energy projection, energy constructs, flight,heart replacement, mirages creation, ring duplication, temperature control, electro magnetic scanning, wormhole creation, high resistance to telepathy, spacial awareness, wings.

#character #bleez #the angel of the red lanterns #the raging angel #red angel #red-wing #the red lantern #DC comics #dc girls #DC. #alie #red lantern corps #emerald warriors #new guardians #expels acid #animating #caustic effect #power suit #energy projection #energy constructs #flight #heart replacement #mirages creation #ring duplication #temperature control #electro magnetic scanning #wormhole creation #high resistant to telepathy #spacial awareness #wi

[cerastes]

Among many things in Darknight’s Memoir, I love how the themes, and their effect on the cast, get touched upon in a manner that isn’t entirely explicit but isn’t as crystal clear as you’d expect.

For example, at one point, W was entirely willing to blow herself up to take out the enemy. She didn’t particularly want to, but she was going to do it if it came to it and if she had no other way out. When Ines understandably asks her “are you serious?”, W simply answers “well, if there’s no other way out of this, a kill is a kill, right?”. Contrast this with her attitude later, where her demeanor is as playful and caustic as we’ve come to expect from her, but her decisions, however, her courses of action, change entirely. No more thrill-seeking by riding the Catastrophe’s wind, no more gambles, no more unnecessary risks, she’s come to put a value on her own life beyond being a mercenary in the endless war game of the Kazdel barrenlands, she’s got a mission, something she less needs to accomplish and more that she wants to accomplish.

And that’s an important narrative thread in Darknight’s Memoir: To want. Sarkaz mercenaries, by and large, fight for the next paycheck more than anything, to get by, a client that pays is a good enough client. W herself initially came to Hoederer with the intent on killing him and claiming the bounty on his head. Seeing her prey firsthand and noticing she can’t kill him, she joins him instead. And that’s just natural: Why take on a foe that will likely injure you irreparably or even kill you? Better join up, and go for bigger fish. There’s literally no stakes in that fight. There’s nothing beyond the paycheck, but that also means there’s nothing except the paycheck: You can take it, but you can also leave it. The longer lived Sarkaz know when to take and when to live.

W, at this point, Wanted Nothing. Just being able to go through the motions, through whatever fights came next, was good enough. One of the first scenes we are treated to involves W throwing a team of her own mercenary corps under the bus to make it out alive. As a reader, our first reaction most likely is “wow, what a bastard”, but then you see Hoederer and Ines’ reaction, and it’s simply “oh, yeah, that happens”. It’s completely normal. That just happens in Kazdel and among Sarkaz, it’s the norm. That’s not to say it isn’t appalling, but in the context of Kazdel, that’s just another day in the job.

There’s no Want. Or technically speaking, there’s a very superficial, utilitarian, soulless Want: The next day, the next paycheck, the next meal, the next fight. Who cares about whatever the trillion of ‘noble’ Sarkaz clans are fighting for or peddle? They have their flags and their sigils and their plastic speeches, but they are all the same: The same warriors, the same traitors, the same devils. Whichever pays you, it’s all the same.

That changes when W meets Theresa. The full breadth of their dynamic is not explored in Darknights’ Memoir, but it’s made very clear that seeing the King of Kazdel, the sovereign of all Sarkaz, the noblest of nobles herself, Theresa, hunched over clumsily trying to fix a janky door, had an effect on W. Well, that, and their subsequent dialogue. Theresa was likely the first Sarkaz W met that wasn’t at least romancing a few ways to kill her, that simply wanted to know her name, and a little more about her. To us, Theresa showed the barest of cordialities with a kind demeanor, but to W, it was likely something that sent her brain into a blue screen of death state. She took an interest in Theresa, unlike she ever did with any other Sarkaz, or noble, or even any other person, and she observed her and served her.

And that there is when a pivotal change occurs: Want.

There is now Want. W No Longer Wants Nothing. She wants to see Theresa interact with others, she wants to see her alone, she wants to see how she does this and that, she wants to see her ideals through, she wants to actually believe in what she has to offer, because for the first time, it’s not a paycheck on the other side of the table that’s motivating her, it’s being able to see someone sincerely working towards a noble goal without ulterior motives and without betrayal, someone who actually believes what she preaches. Not long before this particular cutscene, Hoerderer mentions having killed someone that was trying to assassinate him, a guy he knew and that called him his friend, that even said he’d love for him to marry his daughter. This is the Sarkaz Normal. Literally everything is meaningless to the Sarkaz, even camaradeire. Not on Babel, not on that landship. W might as well have seen paradise in Babel, and in Theresa, a Messiah.

And, see, this is what I love about Darknights’ Memoirs: W doesn’t suddenly turn soft. W doesn’t do a 180. W supports the lofty goals of Theresa in the ways she knows, no doubt dyed by Theresa’s colors, but nonetheless using the skills and temperament that comes natural to her. W was born and nurtured by the battlefield, it’d make no sense for her to suddenly discard all of it, but the colors of Theresa are evident from this point on, even after Theresa’s passing.

W never becomes any less ruthless to her enemies, but there’s clearly a change to the melody of her percussive explosives. It’s no longer about the next battlefield, it’s no longer about the next paycheck, no, every move, from there on, has one clear objective: Kill Theresis, for having Theresa killed.

Now, revenge is nice and cold, but there’s a difference in how she’s going about this: As Hoederer mentions he wants out of this sordid lifestyle, W’s first reaction is to lament the loss of a capable hand, but to otherwise tell him that, if he’s getting out, he might as well Take This Specific Route She Knows Is Safest. It’s not the first farewell she’s given her blessing to: In this very conversation, Hoederer muses that W’s turned soft for letting Flamebringer leave without repercussions. While W’s Sarkaz ended up directly killing Scout’s team, Ines herself outright says to Scout that W didn’t have the heart to kill her old Babel ally (and this is an important distinction: Remember that W is loyal to Babel, not Rhodes Island), with W likely half counting on The Ghost of Babel to be able to make it out with his considerable skills (although if we recall what Scout had to say in Operational Intelligence, he seems to have been pretty aware he was going to die one way or another, and accepted this; his lack of regrets make more sense when you consider he IS the reason why RI was able to rescue Doctor at all, thanks to his deal with W so she’d let Rhodes Island pass). W, at this point of Want, is at that point where she’s not losing any sleep if she has to off someone so her cover in Reunion is believable and isn’t blown, but if she can avoid killing RI Operators, she’ll try and take that road (such as her not killing Adnachiel). Obviously, it’s not exactly the most altruistic or heroic of attitudes, but it’s about as good as it gets for, again, someone who used to believe that using her own teammates as cannon fodder to cover her retreat was perfectly normal and expected, even.

Recall the talk Ines and Hoerderer had about flags. Hoerderer says he’d rather forget about their flag, because it’s an empty symbol, and there’s no real flag for him to believe for... Instead, he believes in the flagpole: You could take that to be a very pure representation of Kazdel as a concept, as this eternal, meaningless warzone, where meaningless people wage meaningless conflict for meaningless rewards, create meaningless bonds and ultimately die a meaningless death: The very same man that throws his arm around you, calls you his friend, and tells you to marry his daughter will take a contract on your head the next day. It’s just the flagpole. It’s meaningless. It holds nothing but useless air. A flagpole with no flag is representative of something that has no meaning and no essence, a lone flagpole is exactly that: An ode to being devoid of, bereft of what should be there, but isn’t.

In many ways, as you may have noticed, Hoederer is meant to be a foil to W, and this is no exception: W has a flag, and again, it’s extremely telling that W’s affiliation as an Operator is not Rhodes Island or Kazdel, it’s Babel.

If we can consider Kazdel to mean more than just a physical location, if we can consider Kazdel to represent that meaningless, cruel, harsh style of life and way of death, then so we can consider Babel to be more than simply “Rhodes Island before Rhodes Island”, we can consider Babel to mean the ideology of Theresa, that style of life and way of death, full of meaning, with a clear objective, with a rocky path well worth the bloody trek.

If whenever Hoederer talks about about wanting to “leave Kazdel” as wanting to leave this sordid lifestyle behind once and for all, then thus, W being a part of Babel, despite her contact with Rhodes Island’s Kal’tsit, despite her undercover status as Theresis’ representative of the Sarkaz in Reunion, despite all affiliations, then that means something. And it’s changed her to some degree, sure, but the important change here is not W as a person, but rather, what W chooses to do with what she is and what she can do, successfully breaking out of the endless cycle of meaningless, vapid warfare, participating in it only in order to eventually crush it. Whereas W initially joined Hoederer because she saw herself outgunned, W is actively going against Theresis, even if she is more outgunned than ever, because now she has something she Wants. She could very easily submit to Theresis, but that’s what the past, Want-less W would do, not the current W, driven by Babel.

Because maybe, that’s all that the Sarkaz needed: Not something to believe, because words are cheap and nobles have those a dime a dozen, but someone to believe in. And not just anybody, but someone that can actually promise you more than a meaningless battle the next three weeks, and then deliver with their actions.

Maybe all they need is to Want.

Because sometimes, many times, Wanting is what breaks the stagnant cycle, but do not underestimate how easy it is to forget to Want... Or to never have learned to Want, in the case of the Sarkaz.

#arknights #operator w

[ecrivant]

a castle and the devil within | reiner braun

(reiner braun x reader)

the night of the ambush on utgard castle; the air, pregnant with the impeding deaths of his comrades.  reiner, plagued by guilt, ruminates on the idea of loss and culpability, and with you shares a moment that will undoubtedly come to haunt him.

a.n. – canon divergent in assuming the warriors knew of zeke’s plan to attack the castle.  

word count: 3.5k

The group moved in the swathe of night like some serpentine unity towards an unknown.  The moon, incandescent and looming high above the earth, enfolded the terrain in a ghostly haze which of all it touched made apparitions. In the air, a disconcerting quietude, silent all but for Equus footfalls dampened by sogged pasture and sniveling muzzles and the cracks and pops of low-burning torches.  The topography, undulating, and from it emerged towering palisades of spruce which sectioned the land and curtailed the interminable and verdant hills.  Clouds, by lunar glow illuminated and resembling exhalations in cold air arrested, roved the sky and overhung land so primeval Nyx herself present for its creation. Nocturne was refuge from the diurnal beasts who within them harbored a taste for humanity, but the cerement of pitch did little to lessen the unrest among the riders—in this world, serenity, erroneous.  

At the horizonal marge of sky and land laid twin towers seemingly erected from the earth itself. Spires traced in moonlight.  As the group rode forward, exhausted and pace lagging, drawing with their path the outline of the sloping land and leaving a trail of muddled footmarks in their wake, the castle entire materialized. Surrounding the towers, a crumbling stone bulwark, at once a product of precise masonry now by worldly destruction ruined—the fortress’ impotent aegis.  This manmade edifice so alien in its surroundings, as if a misplaced afterthought meant for another milieu but forgotten and left for this bucolic landscape.

The group, looking strange and scarcely manlike, finally was before this decrepit palace—its courtyard, barricaded on three sides, was rife with debris, and vegetation grew over and between the laid stones which once formed the yard’s floor.  The horses staggered on the unevenness.  Each rider, form sore and tender, dismounted and tied their horses to what he or she could find and uncomfortably shifted between feet, readapting to bipedalism all but forgotten in the wake of such journeying.  In this momentary recuperation, his eyes drifted to you—in no worse shape than the rest of the group, situated towards the back of their shapeless unit.  Your back to him, slouched as if incurring an immense weight, and shoulders rolling beneath clothes.  

Within the castle, a campfire, amber alight.  Pitch dispelled as if a demon exorcised.  Deep shadows in visages’ creases, casted in the fiery glow.  The group here indistinguishable from fatigued miscreants of past and future.

He knew outside Zeke haunted the landscape, both specter and wraith, poised to strike.  He knew this verily, just as he knew you rested, a stride away, in wary repose.  His guilt, corrosive.  You may die tonight, and he, delirious and consumed by misguided pathos, could only wait for this terrible inevitability.  And perhaps one day he would make peace with his complicity in it and see your death as one of many needed to secure Eldian posterity, but he at this moment knew better. He knew your death would in fact eviscerate him, and he knew he would never be absolved, and for it he knew, upon his own final moments, he would be driven to perdition under the weight of his transgressions against you.

Your face, with delicacy, painted in light and complexion made orange by fire’s illumination.  Aura beguiling, no less so than the first encounter. If, in your voice, the proposition to forsake his life’s purpose was made to him, he would fain relinquish it.  And he would invariably sacrifice his life in exchange for yours, though perhaps not in the noble light the act was so habitually painted—it was not a gesture of loving sacrifice but rather the embodiment of an abject selfishness by which he was possessed.  He knew he would not be able to bear the burden of your death, regardless of whether or not by his hand delivered, and would rather himself meet this inevitable and fatal eternity than ever live to see your end.

These terrible and penetrative thoughts of demise—a ghastly, mental seepage—were debilitating.  He, as a warrior, as a member of the Survey Corps, was so well-acquainted with death yet had never acclimated to it and knew the last death to which he would bear witness would be no less harrowing than the first.  And as he uncomfortably ruminated on these thoughts, he came to realize he, his presence, his mission, was the scent of death which hung over his comrades, the one which they so desperately tried to evade.  Perhaps it was some unarticulated curse which followed inheritors of the titans. As misfortune and pain had fallen on his predecessors—the same who now inhabited him as ghostly memories and feelings—these miseries now fell on him, as if he was not a blank slate but rather a prewritten history destined to recount and repeat itself.  Did he have any choice in what he had done or come to be?  Or was the first inheritor as culpable as he in the terrible fates he wrote for those around him?

Even with his stoic form, highly controlled and for years constructed, he could not assuage the tremor in his hands or the accumulating bile which at once burned his stomach and throat.

He thought at one point he had distanced himself from you—an act of self-preservation—but you, aura infectious and penetrative, always remained.  There in presence and in spirit, beside him always as if a phantasmal servant.  

Beside him you rose and waited for a moment then moved to ascend the stairs of the tower in which the group found shelter.  Someone called out for you, voice indistinguishable in the muted silence; a call less words articulated and more akin to a spectral exhalation of a once-present form.  Your voice in response, a quiet assurance of your safety—you simply needed a moment alone. Yet against your wishes, he erected himself and moved to accompany you, informing you of his presence rather than asking permission.  

“My knight in shining armor.”  

Voice coy.  A slight smile.  

Yet, over him, horror settled, and he, overcome by unspeakable sickness, fought against the bile which threatened to spill forth.  His knees trembled, and the stairs swayed and moved below him, and within him burgeoned a caustic remorse which eroded his conscience, creating from once plane morality a chasmic and unnavigable wasteland.  In this moment, he wished he had returned to Marley after Marcel’s death. For his titan, and his responsibility and mission and resolve, would have been inherited by another—his entire being reduced to pitiable memories in the mind of his successor.  And he would never have come to know you, or your strong resolve, or your aching concern, or your voice, velveteen, the sumptuous way you articulated his name.  Or your laugh which swept past him with airy carelessness and within him bred a distant and warm and melancholic feeling, like a far-removed recollection, a memory of déjà vu.  Or your quiet and unassuming history once marked by genial tranquility which was so violently uprooted by his own actions.  

He stumbled as his body anticipated a stair which was not there.  Your grip on his arm, strong, steadying.  His eyes met yours, and in your gaze, that stupidly sincere concern, and in his, unspoken gratitude.  At the top of the tower, contained in the interstice between the outside overlook and the end of the staircase, you seated yourself against the wall and he, beside you. He tried not to think of Annie or Bertolt or Zeke or Marley or his mother who within him placed her hope entire, and instead focused on the way you smelled of campfire and cold air, and the way, among the silence, the sound of your breathing stilled his heart. With a vacant mind, he simply sat and tried to match his breath to yours.

Still trembling, he inched his hand along the stone floor until he found your touch, and he twined his fingers with yours, and aside from a slight and barely-there hesitation, you did not react.  Your hand cold and his clammy, and in teenage and involuntary reaction, he felt embarrassed.

The last time he desired you so blatantly came in ambush.  He could not recall the situation, or even the moment before or after, but you were together, and in movement you had drifted past him, and as his eyes followed your hallowed form, the idea of kissing you abruptly and wholly engulfed him. He often yearned for you under the shroud of night or in the aurora of dawn, in response to a smile or a laugh, in the wake of a day spent together or a moment exchanged, but never after such inaction.  He had supposed it made sense: for a space, moment, to become consecrated, you merely had to occupy it, and perhaps the moments where he did not crave you, though few in number, did not truly exist and were instead simply obfuscated by your very presence.  

He rued each and every time previous he had not set aside his fear and held you.  This touch, for the first time, in such a chaste and quiet way, and perhaps on the eve of your demise, felt vile.  Your shared intimacy, perverse.  

But the constricting grip of your hand on his, tightened and loosened as a tide ebbs and flows in conjoined action, brought him back from his negative ruminations.  As if you sensed his need to be grounded.

And the look of your face in the barely-there starlight was enough for him to press his lips to yours, a loving movement made shy by hesitance.  The kiss, ephemeral and dissolving in the night as suddenly as it came to be.  He pulled away, face hot at your nonreaction, but you followed his mouth as if now linked and did not let him go.  Is this what it felt like to be wanted, needed?  In a second, you returned to your seated position and he to his, resting in silence as if previous exchange forgotten.  Or, perhaps, never having existed.  He suddenly saw your mutilated corpse before him and could no longer luxuriate in the aftermath of this intimacy exchanged, the grip on his hand and the closeness of your shoulder and his own breathlessness and palpitations now feeling like heresy.  

He felt in the air your hesitation, the quietude preceding the break of a storm, before you spoke, words uttered in tone eerie as if invoked then manifested from the night itself:

“Do you trust me, Reiner?”

In few moments was he struck as speechless as this.  His implicit answer was one of affirmation—he knew amply of how you so presently and continually heeded him—yet he, dazed and aphonic, spoke not.  Perhaps fearful of a forthcoming dialogue in which you would state your misplaced trust on him conferred.  He preemptively contemned you for saying such things, though it was scorn quickly and rightly turned on himself.  You trusted him under the same pretenses he did you, and no reassurances, no matter how constant, could convince him he did not for you experience true and attested concern.  It was not a matter of you falling for his acutely maintained artifice but rather one where he had, simply and unequivocally, fallen for you.  

Your gaze bore into him. Patiently waiting for his answer and seemingly unfazed by his hesitance.  He swallowed and shook his head yes and spoke to substantiate this claim:

“Of course I do.”

You nodded your head as if satisfied and looked up to the ceiling in musing and spoke again after a shared and pregnant pause:

“I trust you.  More than anything.”

You began another phrase, but it trailed off, lost in the night’s permeant sombre.  

And he did not hear it, instead intent on edifice around him crumbling, and conscience, crushing and destructive, under which he collapsed, and ire which burned him like flame, and dread which gored him and spilled forth his viscera, black and befouled from deceit.  Intent on his blood now bile, and complexion now rotted flesh.  And the eldritch bawl, suffused with ruefulness and agony and lamentation unmatched by even the most repentous sinners, which nigh spewed from his gut but instead caught in his throat in a choked sob.  And intent on the manner in which he violently ripped away from you, suddenly and acutely aware of the way his hand twined in yours was the quintessence of sinful hypocrisy—what one should be made to embrace the sadistic numen who in its hands held his or her ultimate fate?  And intent on the countless bodies of victims, past and future, coalescing in a single, fleshed mass of sanguine gore and tortured and malformed faces whose expressions more resembled demons than humans, each and all prostrate before him, supine in some perverted reverence like an agonous congregation in worship.  

“I feel you bear my burdens for me.”

Spoken with a quiet and slumberous quality, as if your first words after waking.  His mind prayed for your silence, a wish, unarticulated, as he could only hold his head in his hands and rock forward and back with mouth open in a wordless scream.  And the emotions with which he was suddenly inundated did not result in tears, and instead he sat beside you, breathing hard and in shock and doing nothing, as if struck dumb.  Your hand on his shoulder, a touch which in it held such comfort and concern, which he cowered under and tore away from as if beast threatened and made prey.  And upon this reaction, the space seemed too small and your presence, repugnant.  The crucifix proffered before the devil.  

He himself, cursed, and now he cursed you.

The trapdoor above, wood weathered and water-logged and laying heavy and flush against the stone ceiling, burst open with a tempest gale’s force, and one of the veterans plummeted from the tower’s crown towards the floor and paid no mind to your pair and instead rushed down the stairs and called for the rest of the group.  And just as suddenly as he had fallen under the yoke of his own fervor, he repressed all thought and set his jaw and ascended the final steps of the tower to emerge in the night.  You beside him.  

From above, the terrain a banished landscape.  The trees which once towered towards firmament’s ceiling now sat in small and sparse clusters littered over the land’s spanning hummocks.  And the moon, now at arc’s crest, bewashed the purgatory below in that same haze from before, the one which made all things wraithlike and seemingly ephemeral.  And within that courtyard on three sides barricaded by the crumbling bulwark and rife with lapidarius debris and vegetation made bluish by the night which encroached upon the yard’s stone foundation posed dozens of those unclad leviathans, climbing over architectural remains or coming forth from arboreal cells or clawing at the tower’s base with hands all but human and much more vehement. Monstrous and aberrant pilgrims converging on their infernal holy land.  

Knowledge of Zeke’s intentions made the sight no less grim.  

In the moments before the veterans descended upon the beasts below in instinctual response, they were struck still, shock and fear in their eyes clear.  And for some reason wholly unknown to him, the reaction, so involuntary and raw and basally human, impressed upon his mind and burrowed deep within him. His body shuddering.  The nightmarish air, pregnant with the threat of impending carnage, and in it, unspoken fear.  

Under blade the brutes fell silently and with their impacts shook the earth.  Even with the dexterous hands with which the veterans fought, the tower’s entrance—a large and wooden and rotting door—was breached.  Authoritative calls, tinged with desperation and fear and sounding more like cries, ordered the group’s remainder to secure the edifice.  To fight to their final breath.  

He could not bring himself to look at you, yet he still felt your presence, the air around you leaden and viscous and suffused with dread.  

As he ran down the stairs, leading the charge to secure the entrance breached, he pondered his intentions. Atypical of his carefully crafted persona, and perhaps his true self, to waver in the face of danger and at the chance to protect his friends, or rather those who he had acutely deceived and convinced of his friendship, he resolved that his actions were integral to the role of Reiner—the protective and stoic hero who, out of fraternal love, laid down his life for those around him.  A role with which he had no qualms assuming.  Even if it was one through Paradisian Eldian’s eyes seen—he cared more about the perception than those who perceived him.  But as he heard your voice with unprecedented fear call out, his name from your mouth a desperate invocation, all notions preconceived wiped away.  He did not fight for the longevity of his own ego, nor even for Marley, or Bertolt or Annie or his mother, home in Liberio.  In this moment, he fought for you.

Upon reaching the staircase’s base, and beyond the open door, he found himself before a titan with stretched grin and ravenous gaze, all humanity absent.  In torchlight, the beast’s grimace, devilish.  And he slammed the door and threw against it his weight entire and called out an indecipherable—perhaps an order, perhaps a cry for help—to the ones descending the stairs behind him.  A sudden plosion of splintering wood beside his head, and through the hole created shot a fleshy and steaming appendage, furiously and blindly reaching for him.  He felt shame as he realized he had already consigned to dying, and in the seconds before this infernal arm enveloped him, he thought of Marcel.  And of Marcel’s scream—his final and desperate expression of abject fear—halted at its climax and then punctuated by the ferric and sour smell of fresh blood and the sound of bone crushed and brains liquified.  

No, he was not to die here.

His movements, automated—his body, propelled away from the door and brushing against the arm which all but had him; Bertolt beside him and pushing a spear into the goliath; his form responding to a warning call, diving out of the path of the unloaded canon which flew down the stairs and as a bludgeon crushed the titan.  

His consciousness divorced from corporeal form, only united again as the agony of teeth sinking into his arm suffused him with an unknowable pain.  He was made sick thinking this was the feeling which marked Marcel’s final moments.

—

Trembling hands struggling with makeshift gauze.  Punctuating, shaky breaths.  Though you tried to hide it, eyes focused on dressing his wounds in silence, he could see you were thoroughly harrowed by the moments prior.  While he was plagued by thoughts of your death, were you by his? As much as it would cause you great suffering, he would still rather die before you—in his selfishness, he would rather have you alive and obliterated by grief than he.  He was reluctant to believe true love was this selfish. Though, when one says they would die for their lover, is it a product of selflessness or self-preservation in the face of grief?  Perhaps in a world different from this one, selflessness possible.  

You finished your work on his arm and sat back.  He looked at you for the first time since you last spoke and found he could barely hold your gaze.

“I promise that if I die, I will be with you. Always. Just look for me.”

Were these his words or yours?  There was no distinction in this place, voices and bodies and human and beast all made one primeval unity in this cold dark.

He wished for you to hold him.  

And when this wish remained unanswered, and the group was called to the towers peak again, and he quickly and silently ascended the stairs next to you, he became aware of a painful and agonous truth: he would never know your touch again, nor he did not deserve it, for the hours and days that followed held admittance of his duplicity; a look in your eyes which so clearly reflected how he violated you; between you, an establishment of mistrust and enmity.  And he would perhaps know your touch again, but it was touch imbued with lethal intent, hateful, your vitriol unspoken but not absent, as you, with all your resolve, tried to wholly annihilate him.  

And yet, in an ironic turn where you, in your hands, suddenly held his fate in a way not dissimilar to the way he did yours, he still wished for his own death to come first, for he would not and could not resolve to live a life devoid of you.

—

ah hi there!  was this one week’s worth of work?  perhaps no.  but i hope everyone enjoyed it regardless!  thank you so much for reading and thank you to the anon who sent in a request for this fic!  i loved your idea, and i hope you enjoyed the piece!  

all the recent support means the world, and feedback and all that is always so appreciated.  have many requests on the way, so look forward to more stuff coming soon!  

request: ok so there's this scenario that's been itching my brain in the wrong place 😭😭 reiner and reader in the castle ruins? before the armored titan reveal? possibly the reader "confesses" to reiner by saying that out of everyone in the corps they trust him the most. and later on he just... does that. spare me some angst please

masterlist

taglist: @flam3bird, @sakusas-whore

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot #snk #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan imagine #aot imagines #aot x reader #reiner braun #reiner braun x reader #reiner braun x you #reiner braun imagine #reiner x reader #writing!

[ohthatsviolet]

Over & Under

Miroctane Week - Day 4 - Family 

[This fic is set in my Miroctane Dads universe]

Octavio stood there, tapping his foot against the metal flooring, the sound of paper and tape being torn apart around him, making him pick at the skin on his folded arms more aggressively. He would have returned to his room before this had all started if it wasn’t for Elliott. The trickster was standing next to him not-so-subtly bouncing on the balls of his feet, exuding anxious energy while he waited to see if he would be handed an envelope or parcel from the box that was sitting on the common room’s coffee table. It felt like they’d been living on the dropship for years, though it had only been a couple of weeks, their commitment to the Games’ newest season being favoured by the Syndicate over their comfort. It seemed like some of the Legends’ families and friends had felt the same, having sent letters and tokens of affection to their loved ones to open during their time apart.

Octavio knew he wasn’t going to get anything. Some of the other Legends were in similar situations to him, either lacking family completely or lacking some who cared. Wattson and Horizon sat by each other on one of the couches, the latter looking somewhat withdrawn while the younger scientist was curious about her friend's gifts and notes.

Octavio couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the elaborately decorated card Ajay received from her parents, a generic ‘we’re so proud’ message written in someone else’s handwriting, that was quickly discarded in favour of an envelope with the Frontier Corps stamp on the front. Rampart received a box from her parents that no one was allowed to look inside. Bloodhound received a letter from the people of their village. Gibraltar was more than happy to show off the pictures of his niece inside his envelope. Loba cooed but quickly returned her attention to her phone. Crypto returned to his room empty handed. Bangalore and Caustic hadn’t shown up at all. Elliott was finally handed an envelope that was addressed to him and breathed a sigh of relief, before nodding to Octavio and they both retired to his room.

“Mom’s wishing you well. She hopes you’re okay,” Elliott said, placing the letter down on the bed and looking towards his partner. Octavio momentarily paused his assault on his cuticles to meet Elliott’s eye and nodded silently, before dropping his gaze again. “Tav? You okay?” “I’m fine,” the runner muttered, not taking his eyes off his fingers. “This whole thing is just…dumb. People can message or call whenever they want. It’s not like we’re off the grid.” “I know, but…Sometimes it’s nice to have something physical when you’re away from home,” Elliott said softly, shuffling up along the bed and settling himself beside Octavio, sliding a hand over his stomach. “I’m sorry. I get that this is rough for you with everything that’s happened with your dad and stuff.” “It’s whatever. He was always an ass-hat. Now everyone here knows it too. He even wears a stupid ass-hat so everyone knows what a stupid ass-hat he is,” Octavio replied, turning his face to mumble into his partner’s shoulder. “I don’t even care. Family is overrated.”

- Ten years later -

It almost felt like taking a breath of fresh air as he drove through the gateway, the car rolling to a steady stop around the back of the house. He hauled himself out of the car, along with the heavy duffle bag filled with a fortnight's worth of used clothing and gear. He crossed the sandy yard with haste, the midday sun warming his back the same way placing his hand on the door handle warmed his heart; it felt so good to be home.

“Guess who’s hoooome!” Octavio called out, pushing in the backdoor and dumping his bag from his shoulder. He walked into the kitchen slowly, expecting to be rushed with hugs or at least a response to his arrival, but was met with a pure, eerie silence. He deposited his keys onto the counter as he passed through the kitchen, a bad feeling beginning to settle in his stomach. Had they gone out? Had Elliott forgotten he was due to arrive home today? “Hello? Elliott? Kids?”

He was startled as soon as he went through the archway into the living room and felt a light thud to his side as arms wrapped around his waist and he looked down into a mass of brown, curly hair. “Bamboozled! You got bamboozled, Papá!” Abigail giggled, beginning to bounce on her toes. “We hid on you! Did we trick you?” Octavio breathed a sigh of relief and ruffled her hair, before crouching down in front of her. “You sure did, chica.” “Ba-woozle! Ba-woozle!” Ghalen chimed in, toddling towards his father and was scooped up into his arms. “It was Abi’s idea, so don’t blame me,” Elliott chuckled, joining the hug and placing a kiss on his husband’s cheek. “We missed you, buuuut…still couldn’t resist the prank. Heh. Sorry.”

Abigail and Ghalen refused to go to bed that night, eager to spend what remained of the day with their Papá. Neither of them made it through the movie they all huddled on the couch to watch, after Elliott had prepared and they’d all devoured  a ‘welcome home’ dinner. Octavio was glad not only for his husband’s efforts, but to finally have some decent food, after being cooped up on ships for what felt like forever.

He tried not to focus too much on the Games, though he was sure Elliott would quiz him all about it later. For now, he just wanted to enjoy being home. Abigail was slumped against his side, after squeezing herself between himself and Elliott while Ghalen snoozed against his chest. Elliott wasn’t doing much better than his children, his droopy eyes struggling to stay open until they fell closed completely. Octavio shook his head fondly. They’d only made it through approximately half of the movie. Some things never change.

Family. The one thing he never thought he’d ever really have, unsure he ever fully understood the concept of it or what it was supposed to mean. The only thing that terrified him in life was the moment he’d been handed a small bundle swaddled in a blanket for the first time. It scared him more than any stunt ever had. But now he wouldn’t change it for anything. After years of exploring, fighting and defying the odds, he’d finally found the one place he truly belonged. And that was right here; with them. Family had never been overrated, he’d just never been part of the right one, and the one he and Elliott had made together was absolutely perfect.

#Apex Legends #Miroctane #Miroctane Week