#and also losing medical coverage

[amlovelies]

Love how the media and government are all like hey don't drive or leave your house during this storm its dangerous but no businesses are closing or changing hours so like you still have to go to work which is the main reason people are on the roads and travel

[palms-upturned]

I can’t even keep up with the Al Jazeera live coverage of Gaza fast enough to highlight specific bulletins. Every single report is so damning. I’m going to try to compile a timeline of bulletins regarding the attacks on Al Shifa and other hospitals tomorrow, but please, please if you haven’t, read through yesterday/today’s live pages. The hospitals are surrounded by Israeli tanks and snipers. Anyone who moves too much inside the buildings or who try to flee on foot are being shot and killed. Buildings in the medical complexes are being bombarded and catching fire. Power has run out and two babies at Al Shifa have already died because of the incubators losing power. ICU and dialysis patients are also going to die at this rate. Most if not all other hospitals are in the same situation. People are already dying just because the doctors can’t get to them to treat them. And those dead bodies can’t be kept in the morgues anymore because there is no refrigeration. They’re going to have to be buried in mass graves on hospital grounds. And the survivors will have to cope with hunger, dehydration, poor sanitation, disease outbreaks, lack of medical care/supplies, and the continued bombardments. Salah al-Din street is getting bombed. Rafah is getting bombed. There is literally no safe place for anyone to go. Israel is not going to stop either until the Gaza Strip is emptied, or somebody fucking stops them.

[alchemocha]

Emergancy medical costs.

Some of you may have seen that I have opened a commission sale for the summer, my wife and I are trying to raise money for some emergency medical coverage… they are losing vision rapidly in one eye due to their neuro disease, and need dental surgery.

Although right now the eyesight lost is much more pressing. My commissions will remain open! And they’re on sale so you can get some nice art for pretty cheap.

But, I’m also going to be posting my kofi donation link if anyone is able or willing to donate to and share this. It’s very scary right now and we’re doing all we can to prevent them from losing their sight entirely, so anything would help. Thank you.

[orion-nottson]

the comet did not reply | tfp!megatron x reader

A/N: my dualities of man: megatron smut and megatron angst 💀 this one’s literally crazy insane among us balls tbh so please proceed with caution if you choose to read!!! heed the warnings!

also, megatron probs comes across as a lil ooc in this, considering the ~premise~ i establish in the story (you’ll understand if you read it 😈) but for realsies i really really did try to keep him in-character/in-line with how he’d act/react in this scenario!! 😭

title is inspired by a line from and also with you by natalie shapero.

summary: you’re old, weary, and it’s hard to fight a war when you feel like you’re losing. and the mech you once loved love leads the other side.

content: 18+ ONLY, minors DNI, DARK, cybertronian!reader, gn!reader, suicidal ideation, past relationship, break up, lovers to enemies, referenced infidelity, war, violence, injury, major character death, no happy ending

word count: 4,925

~ * ~ * ~

~ * ~ * ~

Wherever you are on Earth, it’s raining. Again. It’s the fourth mission in a row that it’s been raining. The warm water patters rhythmically on your armor, wetting your wiring and gathering in seams and joints. Shifting on your peds, the grass and soil beneath sink in that strange, soft way that you’re still not quite adjusted to. Organic planets are peculiar and always will be.

Back on Cybertron, “rain” wasn’t composed of water, but of highly corrosive, abrasive acids that could eat away at a Cybertronian’s frame if they chose to stand in it for too long. Which never happened, because most ‘bots had the common sense (and innate fear) to run for cover once city-state alarms were sounded.

Once, when you were barely out of your protoform, you had gotten sprayed with the “rain” and it left shallow, yet surprisingly painful, grooves on your back struts.

Lifting a servo, you watch Earth’s tiny, harmless beads of nothing more than oxygen, hydrogen, and occasionally elements such as nitrogen and sodium, collect at the divots and seams of your palm or drip off the points of your digits. Mesmerizing little pearls, leaving shimmering trails, careless and directionless.

“Ratchet, I am at location. It seems undisturbed, but if I don’t report back in a breem, I may require assistance.” You say across the comm, still watching the rain make rivers of you. After a beat, the old medic replies with a gruff and secretly worried, “Affirmative”. Then you disconnect the line and it’s silent— save for the rain— once again.

Scanning your surroundings, you take note of your location at the base of a sloping mountain to your left, the break in the forest right before it, and the expanse of wilderness all around you. You’d have better coverage with the trees, so you stick to the treeline, quietly marveling at how, despite your towering height, they are still taller than you. 

In the air, the droplets mess with your sensors— not nearly as bad as falling snow does— and the reduced accuracy in spatial awareness and cloaking raises your guard. If you had a partner with you (especially Smokescreen or Bumblebee), you’d be doubly cautious for them, but this is an increasingly more common instance where a member of Team Prime is sent alone for a mission.

If you were truthful, you didn’t mind it. Silence was becoming more and more a treasure to you, and you’d admit you began to almost frantically seek it out. It was too hard now to be... around others. Being present, having to act as if nothing is so fundamentally wrong, pretending for the morale of the team— It makes you want to crash your own drives so hard it takes a week for them to reboot.

Yes, isolation is easy, it’s kinder. Being alone with your thoughts is easier than being in a room full of people— All talking, all watching— where you have to squash them deep down, down where each terrible, horrible thought festers in the circuitry of your processors like a virus. It pains you to no end that you can never tell anyone this, but this is war frag it— Who isn’t suffering?

A heavy, nebulous weight settles in your spark like an all-consuming void, where it started aching vorns ago and seems to have grown only larger. System diagnostics find little physically wrong, usually just slightly elevated Energon circulation, so you know it’s all psychological. The thought doesn’t help. 

Being so lost in your helm made you forget your purpose here, a living-metal titan amongst trees beneath a steady rainstorm. The Energon locator in your servo bleeps rhythmically, faster when you angle it towards the mountain. That’s where a deposit probably is, though that means there may be Decepticons as well.

A passing thought of requesting back-up crosses your mind, and you dismiss it— Along with Optimus’ inevitable disappointed reprimand should you get into trouble— faster than an optic blink. You’d be able to hold your own against Vehicon drones.

And it is a tremendous effort to ask for help; You don’t speak that language anymore. Haven’t for eons. Especially not from Optimus, whose optics are always sad when he looks at you.

At least it’s raining. In the short time you’ve been on Earth, you learned to like the rain.

~ * ~ * ~

At the far side of the mountain from where you emerge from the forest, the rock opens into a jagged cave entrance. Crouching behind an outcrop of stone, you survey the open area and see no immediate signs of Decepticon activity. Waiting a few clicks, listening to the soft rain, you stand up and hastily cross the small distance to the cave. Hiding at the mouth of it, you peek past the edge.

Dark, damp, and most importantly lifeless, the cave looks like it hasn’t been touched in some time. You check the locator as you step inside, a blip on the screen confirming Energon a little ways in. The light of the device illuminates the cave walls, though with your specialized optics, the darkness doesn’t negatively affect your vision.

As you walk, the cave tunnels seemingly endlessly, winding occasionally but steadily declining as you find yourself going deeper and deeper into the Earth. Eventually, the layers of sediment will afflict the range of your communications, and you’d have to turn back. Or continue and be cut off. 

You weigh your options. Your pedsteps don’t stop.

A break in the tunnel reveals a more open area, where a cave fractures into multiple systems of shafts that stretch in all directions. Stalagmites sporadically rise from the ground, uneven and glistening with calcium deposits. The Energon locator pings, telling you that there is a deposit somewhere beneath the clusters of mineral ore.

Somewhere, cave water drips from the ceiling and lands with soft plinks! into puddles scattered across the wet rock ground. It’s not perfectly rhythmic like the rain on the surface, but you suppose it’ll do.

plink!

You count to three, audials straining to listen.

plink!

Two this time. You shudder.

plink!

Four. It is so quiet down here, you think, I want it to be quiet forever.

plink!

In a barbaric shift in volume level, the tell-tale sound of a groundbridge crackling to life behind you sets you immediately on edge. You whip around, making short work of the three Vehicons that appear from the swirl of light, getting them each with a blaster shot. Respite wouldn’t follow, as the large, foreboding frame of the Decepticon Lord himself strides from the groundbridge just as it flourishes into nothingness behind him.

In the sheer darkness, Megatron looks like a living shadow, no light reflecting off his silver armor except the slimmest amount from the glow of your optics and weapons. His optics shine menacingly, bright enough to bathe the nearest rocky formations in red. It wouldn’t be something that any other ‘bot would catch— barring Optimus— but the brief flicker of genuine surprise that crossed them is almost too much for you to handle. He hasn’t been this close to you in vorns.

Briefly, the sight of him conjures another vision in your processor— One of being within the gloomy underbelly of the Pits of Kaon, of being introduced to a determined, yet kind, gladiator, of his optics aflame, twin stars in the dark—

— Then, the last time you saw him up close: A gladiator scorned, storming from the Council in Iacon that just renamed Orion Optimus Prime, the silver mech filling with dark, dark resolve—

You return to reality almost painfully, ignoring the deep, throbbing hurt in your chassis— An internal diagnostic check reveals nothing physical. The mech that stands before you looks similar to the one you knew eons ago, but this mech is changed. His faceplates have hardened. He’s darker, more violent. Similar, but different.

It’s a sobering thought to realize you’ve become much the same.

“Megatron.” His name passes your dermas harshly, like saying it was sharp and jagged enough to tear up your intake. You slowly lift your still-smoldering blasters, flipping one to your sword instead. Megatron takes up an untroubled demeanor, lifting an optic brow in a grand display of supposed boredom. His true intentions are divulged by the cruel glint in his red optics. On guard, you adopt an offensive stance, bristling.

He says your name like it’s meant to please you, like nothing ever happened between the two of you, and it makes you feel sick to your fuel tanks. Why did it come to this, you beg yourself and find no answer, seeing again that kind-sparked gladiator of Kaon, but now a warlord stands before you. Nonchalantly, Megatron regards his slain soldiers and dismal, claustrophobic surroundings then speaks, “It has been quite some time since our paths last crossed so... intimately.”

“Keep that word from your mouth.” You snap without thought, too blinded by the rage and hurt and regret to act reasonably. Memories become insinuated, memories you once found fond that now you can’t look back upon without flinching. It breaks your spark, makes the void grow larger, but you box them away and hide them in that deep, dark place to rust.

When Megatron’s sword slides from his armor with a clean hiss, you realize you are pitifully, utterly alone. Dread creeps in through the same cracks as guilt does.

“Are you truly so quick to discard our history?” The silver mech asks, dermas twitching up into a smirk that brandishes his pointed denta. It’s a visceral feeling to see familiar features you once loved bastardized, to see the softer parts of him sharpened enough to harm. Barely contained shudders threaten to disarm you as your processor is unforgiving in letting you forget.

I remember so much, you beg, Allow me to not, just this once.

“I washed my servos of you eons ago.” You lie breathily, as you remember the phantom touch of his servos tender and warm against your armor. Places where he once held you burn, fires igniting all across your frame like tiny volcanoes of sparkache and sorrow.

“A shame. You once promised yourself to me.” Megatron drawls, and the glint in his red optics is cruel as the familiar tickling at your spark, a sensation that was once new and curious and that you both tested on each other, rouses awake like an old god from their eons-long slumber, shaking off the dust of vorns of dormancy and misuse. The connection is near instantaneous, near overwhelming, as you feel him enter your spark. Megatron’s sudden emotions of righteous fury and long-withheld grief are unwelcome visitors to your processors.

He is reopening your sparkbond. 

And as a weapon against you.

“How dare you.” You seethe, coolant tears gathering at the edges of your optics, your spark aching in your chassis. Megatron no doubt senses your turmoil, but your servos quiver so hard you feel no satisfaction from the knowing wince that crosses his faceplates. Bonds go two ways after all.

Then:

/No— How dare you./ Megatron sends the scathing message across the bond, his gravelly voice ringing somehow in your spark and not your audials. It has you gasping, blinking back tears, the burn of his voice branding rather than comforting. It’s been so long since you’ve heard him in this way.

“Do not act as though you are blameless.” Megatron snarls, and all the bond chants is Betrayal! Betrayal! Betrayal! as it throbs with his vengeance and pain. The accusation is hefty enough to shake you from your self-loathing and pity so that those ugly feelings get replaced by anger, which is easier than all of them. Rage hot beneath your chassis, you make sure to flood the bond with it.

“Betrayal? You don’t know the meaning of the word.” You hiss, the word’s mention wanting to make you laugh and weep, “We were not the ones that turned the revolution into tyranny! We didn’t cause Cybertron to die—”

“We! Precisely that!” Megatron exclaims angrily, and the words conjure images of Optimus Prime, of what your estranged conjunx believes you to have done with the Prime— flashes of curious, black servos, foreign dermas upon your own, promises made under guilty moonlight and secrecy— and your spark sinks deep, deep into your fuel tanks. Optics blown wide, you barely manage a horrified, “I never.”

/Have you?/ Distrust, cynicism, vexation.

“Pray tell, why else would you choose him over me?” Megatron jeers harshly, and it hurts to see the pain written across his faceplates as clear as a sunny day.

“Because I didn’t know who you had become!” You cry, gesturing vaguely as terrible memories start to resurface from the deep, dark place you ensnared them in, memories of Megatron after Optimus gained his title, of a glowering mech taking up arms under the name of the Old Guild, the birth of the Decepticons.

There were so many nights of fighting, of arguments that eventually forced you to make the terrible, spark-breaking decision to walk away from your conjunx as all that you fought for collapsed.

/And into the awaiting arms of Optimus Prime./ Bitterness. Contempt.

“NO!” You howl like some wounded Earthen animal, and you never used to be a violent person, yet here you are, charging with a sword drawn at your own sparkmate. A battle cry tears out of you like a demon let free, and you lunge at Megatron swinging your sword, the blade clashing against his with a metallic bang. A litter of sparks fly off the collision, more when your swords drag against one another, and you slide back defensively as you avoid a slash from him. Megatron sneers as his blade meets air, but gloats when his fist collides with your side.

You fly back, the shriek escaping your dermas abruptly stopping when you hit the stone wall. Pain receptors flare, a system diagnostic finding nothing severe enough that you’d worry. Just as you collect yourself, you dodge Megatron’s blade and he’d thrust it with enough impact that it imbedded itself in the rocks. As he struggles to free his arm, you swing your fist at his helm, connecting with his jaw, causing him to stumble on his peds.

This has the unfortunate side effect of dislodging his blade, and the silver mech wastes no time in charging you again. He roars, his hefty blade colliding with yours so intensely it sends shockwaves up your arm. You grunt, losing your footing, fully understanding now just how competent a gladiator Megatron was, and just how strong Optimus is to be able to best him.

“You know you are no match for me.” Megatron says as if he’s heard all of your thoughts— Which he probably has, in a sense. You glare at him and while your helm says I know, I don’t plan on winning, your mouth retorts headily, “You’ve never been one to be fair regardless.”

Swords clash, a kick is attempted, a fist is swung, you sail back hard against the wall— Again. Stone crumbles and falls around you, rocks bouncing off your armor and leaving knicks in your paint. Before you can stand, Megatron seizes your neck cables with surprising speed, and your groan warbles in your intake as he squeezes your vocal processors.

Pain flares as the silver mech heaves you to your peds by your neck, clawed digits digging into Energon lines at the base of your helm. Megatron is beaming widely as your gaze locks onto his, anger wild and crazed in his blazing optics. Your servos fly to his arm— At impact, your frame automatically disarmed— digits gripping at unforgiving silver armor. Your bond weeps in pain and terror, Megatron fights to meet it with indifference and coldness.

“Do not speak to me about fairness. It never existed on Cybertron, and it certainly doesn’t exist now.” The silver tyrant drops you like you’ve repulsed him, your peds nearly giving out as you manage to steady yourself. He has half the mind to look as though he’d strike you again, but he doesn’t. At Megatron’s side, his sword shivers, and with a twang! it retracts back into subspace like he wanted to keep it out and his body refused him.

“I cannot kill you.” He says after a beat of silence, while you barely manage to keep your footing, leaning heavily against the stone all around you. 

“Our— The bond won’t allow it.” You reply dryly, not looking at your conjunx, delicately touching your now-aching neck cables. The metal beneath is warm with pain, but not unbearable. 

“Then we find ourselves at an impasse.” Megatron’s stare bores holes straight to your spark.

“So we do.” You shrug, as if you could relinquish yourself of his gaze.

Megatron laughs then, humorlessly and clipped. His stare is a low glower, the type of piercing and forbidding better suited for a wicked animal than the mech you loved— love. His bond cackles cruelly at the word.

“Tell me why. After all that we experienced, all our trials and tribulations, all our toils and triumphs—” Megatron stalks like a pacing lion, then pauses so abruptly it gives you whiplash, “Why did you abandon me?”

— You see a gladiator beneath your window, your friend Orion Pax at his side, the two of them smiling grins that make you equal parts nervous and dauntless, Megatronus saying, Come with me, friend, we have a plan.—

“I already told you! I watched you change into something darker before my optics, become consumed, become… become…” Your mind frantically grasps for words and none fit, and you are rendered speechless and wordless again until, with horror, you ask, “How can you not see what you’ve become?”

Megatron does not answer, not verbally nor over the bond, and it’s then you truly have to come to terms with your reality and reconcile the past. 

“I thought you had love for me. I now know that I was deceived.” 

There was a time you loved Megatron— More than anything in the universe, when you both were far younger, more naïve, and things were different. Not better, obviously. You had met at the catalyst to the Revolution, when the unease and righteous anger of the under class imploded and burst the caste bubble. But it had been simpler: Long days of debating politicians, business magnates, nobles, and other close-minded bureaucrats, and even longer nights of replanning, reorganizing, and desperately invigorating your supporters when ideas of reform met deaf audials.

There were also rare moments when Megatronus and you lost yourselves in the quiet, tender aspects of a blossoming relationship. Progress has never been linear nor consistent, so throughout the early parts of the rebellion, when things were generally hopeless, it was easy to grow close for comfort.

Megatronus was intelligent, engaging, and charismatic. His drive to end the decrepit caste system on Cybertron showed you parts of him that were empathetic, angry, and even scared. He was also a mighty gladiator, so when he admitted his fears to you, it was beyond meaningful. You were given access to that heavily guarded spark of his, allowed to see the sensitive mech hidden within, the one that later proposed sparkbonding to you.

And you suppose Optimus loved Megatron too, and his fault is that he still does too much for him to let go. He may have all the wisdom of the Ancients, all the knowledge of the Primes, but he still has Orion Pax’s stupid, unshakable hope.

“Stop it.” Megatron says out loud, and you come to the realization he’s been sensing your melancholic nostalgia across your now open bond— And that you’ve begun to cry, coolant tears drawing rivers down your faceplates. He glares at you, servos flexing into tight fists and relaxing shakily. Air hisses from his vents as he shifts his armor plating in discomfort. He hates remembering just as much as you do. Hates seeing you weep.

“I did love you, Megatron. I believe I still do.” Your confession is quiet, and you must be an idiot too to still hang onto your love for your conjunx after all these eons of war, after everything he’s done. The difference between Optimus and yourself is that it isn’t hope that keeps you tethered to Megatron, but some intangible, senseless whatever that ties you to the idea of Megatron, the dream that your beloved Megatronus may one day return to you.

/I am still him. I have only just bettered him./

/No. My Megatronus died eons ago. You are an imposter possessing his body./

/You do not really believe that, do you?/

Shame brings your shaking servos up to your faceplates, hiding your tears behind them. Your processor fights to separate the image of Megatron from Megatronus and Megatronus from Megatron. The sound in your audials is like rushing water, faintly accompanied by a series of dull echoes, like rubble falling and falling...

“I lost you the moment you engraved that accursed symbol onto your chassis.” You bemoan, looking past your digits and at Megatron, at the sharp angles and harsh stare of the insignia on his chassis. You just missing the plume of dust that stems out from one of the caverns.

“I could say the same of yours.” Megatron replies bitterly, and he goes to say more, interrupted by the ground trembling, as if the Earth is grieving alongside you. For not the first time, you curse the Unmaker’s name for infecting poor, empathetic Mother Nature.

“Are you so jealous?!” You shriek, vocal processors high and shrill against the cacophony of noise in your audials, in your helm. Megatron regroups quickly, straightening his back struts and setting his broad shoulders, the perfect image of lordly crushing contempt.

“I did not intend on becoming so!” Megatron roars, the curl of his derma pulling his faceplates into an ugly, ugly snarl, “I was not destined for it! But you and Orion made sure that it became my fate.”

“Your own hubris made your fate.” You moan dolefully, anguished, stepping back as Megatron steps forward. You’re not sure if it’s the chaos of the situation or your pain that warps your perception, that makes the whole damned cave shake, but you’re not sure of anything anymore. Despair rolls off you in waves, and Megatron recoils from it, his bond slinking away like a cybercat back into the shadows that birthed it.

“Stop it.” Megatron hisses again, but you barely hear it over the sound of your own systems screaming at you, alerts informing you of an imminent drive crash, realizing too little too late that the stress, sparkache, anger, grief, and guilt of millennia has caught up to you. 

Megatron, despite blocking his bond, is hit with lashes of painful signals like a whip, his servos going to clutch his helm. Your spark is suffering, he opened the bond and now feels it too.

/STOP IT./

You do not.

Then there’s a grand and catastrophic sound of caves collapsing, of walls crumbling all around you, of the stony floor opening like the maw of a mountain god, and you fall.

Everything goes black and silent and still.

~ * ~ * ~

With a groggy start, your processors boot up and the immediate wave of white hot, steel sharp pain that hits you almost sends you into damage-induced stasis. Injury reports and survival statistics blare red and angry in your vision, alerting you to the widespread, lethal wounds you incurred in the sudden rockslide.

“You are awake.” Megatron speaks from... somewhere, and suddenly he is above you, and you are laying half propped-up by his lap. You aren’t sure how you got here, an unconscious diagnostic reveals that it’s been six Earth hours that you’ve been offline. The void in your chassis grows cold, your spark twisting with dread and confusion and...

There is a tell-tale sensation of Energon... leaving your body, pooling beneath you, slick and hot against your frame. Realization cuts swift and sharp through the haze. Experience tells you this isn’t a good sign.

“Did you pull me from...” The correct words escape you, your processor too busy sorting through the alarmed pain receptors, too busy with trying to operate properly as major Energon systems in your leg struts and abdomen give weak warnings. You realize that they shut down with extraordinary distress. 

“Yes.” Megatron’s reply is too soft, sounds far far away. He looks down at you— /When had I laid down again? / You’ve been in my arms for a breem./— and there’s something like pity in his optics, but it’s less sympathetic and more guilty. Coolant tears, that you hadn’t even registered clouded your optics, roll down the sides of your faceplates.

/You’re injured. I have nothing to help you./ Comfort, anguish, regret.

/I know. It’s okay./ Thankfulness, sorrow, forgiveness.

Your mind must be going— You recall the most random thing.

“Do you... remember when we... visited the Crystal City?” It’s harder to speak now, each word is forced out your dermas like your mouth is holding them hostage. Your glossa feels heavy— Strange, really, because the rest of you feels lighter than air...

“Yes.” Megatron repeats. The rumble of his voice sounds even more distant, like thunder far on the horizon. Wherever you both have ended up— /The depths of Earth./— it gets darker, less focused and more opaque. Megatron becomes an incomprehensible figure, and only his faceplates remain superimposed in your line of tunneling sight.

“It was so beautiful.” You whisper, recalling the spires of crystal diamond, the walls of glimmering mirrors, the streets paved in quartz and prisma-glass. Megatronus takes your servo in his, clawed digits wrap around yours, encasing you in warmth and gleaming silver. You smile a small, sad thing that doesn’t reach your optics. Looking into your conjunx’s, you’re glad to see them as blue as oceans. Then you blink, and they are red. 

“It was.” Megatronus agrees, and although he’s warm and his EM field tickles against yours, your pain receptors cut off abruptly, signifying the start of what approaches.

Death is a commonplace occurrence these days, far more so after the Well of Allsparks went dark and Cybertron fell with it. It’s something every remaining Cybertronian has thought of, Autobot and Decepticon alike, of what can extinguish their spark, of when that invisible force comes to move them.

It’s all whether to fight it, to run from it, or to embrace it. There was a time you thought of returning to the Allspark, becoming one with your Maker once again, with unease and fear. It used to scare you, though now nothing does. You’ve found comfort and gratitude in the belief that you’d see lost loved ones yet again, once you’ve moved out of your frame.

“I loved you. Once.” You say, optics flickering as your body begins to allocate energy to more vital, still hemorrhaging, systems, “I never... lied about that.”

“And I was foolish enough to allow you to. Then and now.” Megatronus leans in and your spark sings as he places a wonderful, tender, sorry kiss on your dermas. His mouth is rougher than it used to be, but less clumsy and more assured. You smile into the kiss, wanting it to never end, so Megatronus lingers.

/You’ve changed. Your dermas have changed./ Delirium, realization.

/As have you. As have yours./ Worry, acceptance.

“I am not frightened by my ending.” You whisper after Megatronus has parted from you, and across your bond you hear And you never have been but Megatronus’ mouth says, “As no good warrior should be.”

His servo tightens its grip, his dermas in a hard line, the bond laments Acceptance.

“I will… see you again.” You say on your last ex-vent, and Megatronus is sure it’s a statement rather than a question.

/When you summon me, I will answer./

And Megatron watches your optics flicker, then not come on again.

~ * ~ * ~

Megatron sits with your body for another breem, taking in the beautiful stillness of you as he feels your spark diminish from his.

He’d always heard that losing a conjunx is beyond painful, that there were cases back on Cybertron wherein those that lost their sparkmates often suffered and died with them. Megatron doesn’t feel that; The severance of your bond with him is agonizingly slow and recedes like a fire dying out, but it doesn’t leave him in pain. You’ve left him empty. Hollow.

Megatron looks at your servo he holds. It fits perfectly in his palm, but now you are cold to the touch. His spark shivers once in his chassis, and now it too feels cold. You are gone. You are not coming back to him, not as anything living— Not as his friend, his conjunx, not even as an enemy.

Megatron invites the anger inside him like a welcome friend, letting it swell up from his peds to his chassis to his mouth where it smolders on his glossa like a curse. Red optics blazing, he tosses his helm back and roars, the way he did when some victories in the Pits meant only that he was still standing, still alive, until the scratch in his vocal processors confirms it.

After digging and clawing himself out of yet another Earthen grave, Megatron breaches the surface to find it is raining. He wastes no time, transforms and flies into the thunder-gray sky, where teardrops of rain slide forlorn and sleek against the silver of his alt mode until he breaks the troposphere, then the stratosphere, and leaves the rain, and you, behind.

~ * ~ * ~

[nothorses]

hey! i need a teensy tiny baby bit of advice that maybe you could help with!!

i’m 17, and i got my name and gender marker legally changed in 2022. aside from how long it takes to change some documents, i’ve been able to scrub my deadname from existence.

BUT!! I have some health issues—that i won’t go into—, meaning that i go to a shit ton of doctors for different reasons. i also have access to my medical records + summaries from each appointment, and all of them say clear as day “female”.

and i genuinely don’t know what to do about it?? like, i’m not even on hormones, but every time i’ve gone to an endocrinologist they put female on my chart?? and it’s just super confusing??

if you could help that would be super cool and great!! if you can’t, also totally cool!! i just thought id ask a trans creator on here who’s been through the whole ringer!!

That could be for a number of reasons, some of which I probably wouldn't know about! My first instinct is to ask your insurance about it: do they still have your gender marker as "F"? Why? Since you say it's across all your healthcare documents, insurance seems like the most likely culprit here.

Mine was resistant to changing my gender marker because I would lose access to coverage for things like pap smears, and I ended up telling them to change it anyway (I was years out from needing another pap smear, and the mismatch of my gender marker through insurance vs. my psychiatrist's office meant insurance wouldn't cover my ADHD meds, which I needed ASAP). Then I contacted the state healthcare authority's office and filed a discrimination complaint. They sided with me. To my knowledge, I should be able to get coverage for any medical procedures a doctor said I need.

I'm in Washington, where the state is pretty good about trans issues- particularly when it comes to healthcare- so that may have been why this worked for me, but it could be worth a shot regardless (there might be a trans ally in the process somewhere who advocates for you, despite overall state disposition). I also have state health insurance, and we have laws here that require the state to cover trans medical needs, so that could also be a factor in why this worked for me. Again, worth a shot, just know there's a chance it goes differently for you.

If it isn't insurance, it's probably your doctor's office(s), in which case you may just need to call them or talk to whoever is at the desk when you next go in. Tell them you've noticed your chart lists you as "female", explain you've had your gender marker legally changed, and ask them if they can change it to match what's on all of your legal records now. If they try to say it's for insurance reasons and it's supposed to be for your benefit, well, you've already talked to your insurance at this point, so you can shoot that excuse down (you may even be able to argue that because your insurance lists you as "male", the mismatch in your doctor's office records actually puts you in jeopardy of losing coverage).

My guess is that it's insurance, but it's probably one or the other. It might take some calls to figure out, but hopefully you're able to figure out what's going on & get it resolved!

Best of luck!!

[winterfergerart]

So I'm gonna make a personal kind of post here. TW for death in the family and my own post-covid symptoms.

Last year my grandfather died. He was the man who raised me, so he was more like a father than a grandfather. As he was getting close to death I was asking my family if there was going to be an inheritance which, I specifically said at the time, I need to know so that I can know what to do about my SSI disability and plan ahead.

People just said I'd get a 'tidy sum' or 'deferred comp' at best. No steady numbers. So without knowing what I'd be getting I had no way to prepare. I think they just thought I was being greedy and wanted to know selfishly. Not that I needed regular medical coverage.

He died without having said anything about being proud of me, but the family found a box of all my pictures growing up in his closet. Other people too, but mostly me, and I didn't know what to do with that because he never really said that he was proud of me or anything.

Because of that his death hit me really hard. Like, the entire span of his slow decline, from the year before to the day he died, I kind of withdrew from a bunch of my friends. Years ago someone put it in my head that wanting help when you're troubled is manipulative so I took it to heart. I pulled away from a bunch of people that made me happy because I didn't want to stress them out with my problems. I pulled back from my hobbies 'cause I didn't trust myself to engage anymore. I was hurting too much.

After he passed, other than a few people, I was all alone.

I received notification concerning my inheritance in December and I filled out the paperwork in early January, specifically requesting that I be given some time to prepare before receiving payments. They didn't listen. So I had to get off SSI, lost my insurance, had to loosely plan to buy some. It's not a lot of money, but it is too much to recieve public assistance.

But I thought, maybe I can do something that makes me less dependent on the government now. I can get married. Maybe I can go back to school. Maybe I can start a small jewelry and miniatures business. Maybe I can invest. Maybe I can start volunteering at domestic violence shelters.

Then two months ago, I caught Covid for the first time in 4 years.

The S.O.? Oh he was fine. It seemed like a bad cold. But me, first it was the fever, and then my lungs deteriorated for two weeks. Doctor round one? "It's a Covid cough, it's expected." Doctor round two? "Yeah, Covid cough can go on for a while. Here's sudafed and cough pills."

It took my blood oxygen to drop into dangerous levels (90%) for anyone to take me seriously. And despite that doctor trying so hard and giving me great meds, I just had a massive relapse and today I'm struggling to breathe again. I'm sitting here crying and coughing up chunks of god knows what. All this being paid out of pocket, because I don't have insurance and no one listened to me. About the inheritance, about the deferred comp, about the insurance, about how badly my lungs were doing post-Covid.

I had been exercising every single day for two years. I was actually starting to lose weight. I was so proud of myself. Now that's all been set back. I was gonna get married. But SSI is holding me in this sort of limbo where I'm not covered but I'm also not free.

I miss my support system. I've loosely tried to reach out but I've not been very good at it because I always sucked at social anyway. I'm sorry that I threw it away while it felt like I could only radiate badness and loss. If any of you are still out there I miss you and I'm sorry I abandoned you. I thought I was doing us both favors and we'd be better off without each other. So I'm throwing it out there that either I'd love to hear from you again, if you're still watching this account, or please just know I'm sorry I let you down.

PS. I don't want money. I just want to see a bright spot again when every time I get ahead I get knocked back.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Rebecca Kheel at Military.com:

The military would not be able to pay for surgeries for transgender troops under the Senate's version of the must-pass annual defense policy bill, legislative text released Monday evening revealed. Transgender military kids could also lose access to hormone therapy, puberty blockers and other medication if the treatment "could result in sterilization" under another provision that was also added to the bill during the Senate Armed Services Committee's closed-door consideration of the measure last month. Inclusion of those amendments, which passed with the support of every committee Republican and independent Sen. Joe Manchin of West Virginia, in the Senate's version of the National Defense Authorization Act, or NDAA, could increase the odds that restrictions on gender-affirmation care for transgender troops and family members become law after the House filled its version of the bill with similar efforts to curtail services for LGBTQ+ troops.

The GOP-led House's efforts to ban coverage of gender-affirmation care for transgender service members garnered considerable attention, but Republicans' successful amendments in the Democratic-controlled Senate Armed Services Committee have so far flown under the radar. While the committee released a summary of its NDAA and staffers briefed reporters on some of its contents last month, there was no mention of the bill including anti-transgender amendments until the bill text and an accompanying report were released Monday night. Transgender troops have faced whiplashing policies for years amid GOP efforts to bar them from serving openly or, short of that, prohibit the Pentagon from covering their health care. After the Obama administration allowed transgender troops to serve openly in 2016, former President Donald Trump reinstated the ban on open transgender service in 2017.

When President Joe Biden took office in 2021, he quickly rescinded Trump's ban. But Republicans have continued to try to pass bills targeting transgender troops, and major conservative voices, including the conservative think tank collaboration known as Project 2025 that hopes to shape a second Trump term if he wins November's presidential election, are calling again for banning transgender troops.

[...] The amendments added to the Senate's NDAA would bar Pentagon funding to "perform or facilitate sex change surgeries," as well as the use of Defense Department facilities for those purposes, according to the bill text. Tricare would also be prohibited from covering "affirming hormone therapy, puberty blockers, and other medical interventions for the treatment of gender dysphoria that could result in sterilization" for beneficiaries under 18.

[...] While both the House and Senate versions of the NDAA now include provisions to restrict transgender health care, anti-LGBTQ+ measures have traditionally been a red line for Democrats, injecting uncertainty into the outcome of negotiations on the final version of the bill that will become law. After the House passed its version of the bill last month, Senate Majority Leader Charles Schumer, D-N.Y., blasted the House bill for being "loaded with anti-LGBTQ, anti-choice, anti-environment, and other divisive amendments guaranteed not to pass the Senate."

What an absolute slap in the face to our trans folk who are serving, planning to serve, or have served in our military by slipping in restrictions on gender-affirming care and funding for them via Tricare.

See Also:

Erin In The Morning: Project 2025 Policy Targeting Trans Service members Passes Dem. Senate Committee

[kuronekonerochan]

The whole fucking world stood by and watched as millions were spent in rescue efforts for half a dozen millionaires with a real countdown clock on their lives a few months ago.

We now witness a countdown clock in the fuel left in the generators of all the hospitals providing medical aid to an entire people while under constant bombings. A countdown to when every injured individual will become a casualty in a slow agonizing way because there will be no medical aid possible and the world does nothing. Nothing at all. If you can't reason with a genocidal state to let in water, food, medicine and fuel for the hospitals to keep running, maybe it's time to do it by force. Blue helmets, whatever is needed to rescue innocent civilians. But not even an economic sanction. The European Union (from where I'm from) is giving carte blanche to ethnic cleansing and genocide, while managing to lose all legitimacy to condemn Russia in the same stead (the part they did right). Having 2 criteria for war crimes makes the EU feel like a joke. We are in a fucking alliance for cooperation and peace and the Head Representative personally goes to Israel to give her support for genocide. I think every decent human being has lost any faith left in politics and politicians over the last few days. Scandals and corruption seem insignificant compared to this.

No, I don't trust our politicians, no they definitely are not representing me.

And they definitely do not work for the people when they agree to exterminate an entire people.

This is Nazism. Ethnic cleansing check. Collective punishment check. Confining millions in a war camp with no way to leave and committing genocide check.

And don't you dare call me antisemitic. I was not the one who chose to compare this to the Holocaust. The atrocities being committed by the Zionist State of Israel are the ones mirroring it. Do we have to wait until the body count is over the million mark to finally start calling it out?

Watching this happen live until there is no power left on the cameras and phones to keep recording what's happening is agonizing. But it feels as if people and politicians mostly are eagerly waiting for the eventual shutdown of coverage to put it all past them and move on as if nothing's happening. People will keep dying in the dark.

What is happening just shattered the fake mask of this "modern civilized world with human rights of 2023". Humans still have no rights apparently and I cannot fathom how people in conflict free zones are comfortable, compliant and complacent to this. How idiotfully jolly it must be to keep thinking that you will never in your lifetime have the tiniest chance of being treated like this in your western corner of the world. I for one can't live in that fantasy anymore. However improbable it seems now, I now know that there's a chance I will someday be denied water, food, medicine and shelter, isolated with no means of escape while missiles (or whatever future horror the warlords conjure) rain down on me and if I get injured there will be no medical aid and I might be left for dead in agony....and I now also now that while this happens free thinking first world democracies might be nodding along or purposefully looking away but none will help.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Will we never see the day the Harkles get what they deserve rumour tracking anon? I'm losing faith and I'm really tired. They are saved from all those scandals that demand their answer just with this one incident. I cannot anymore

I know, anon. It's really frustrating to see them keep getting away with it, almost as if they're constantly rewarded for bad behavior.

Some things that have helped me (bolding for emphasis to break up the giant chunks of text):

Taking breaks. Just walk away from it. A day, a weekend, a week. There isn't a whole lot happening in the BRF to counteract the Sussex shenanigans so Harry and Meghan are dominating the news There are no tiara or glam events. No tours/foreign visits. No projects being announced. 3 out of 7 senior royals are on medical leave and the ones who are working don't generate the same kind of headlines, attention, or coverage. Take a break from all this - maybe do a deep dive into another royal family or read historical books about the BRF (especially ones that pre-date the modern House of Windsor) or non-text books (like Angela Kelly's books or Chris Jackson's photobooks).

Spend time pursuing a creative hobby. I find that doing something creative helps keep my mind from wandering to the Sussexes and the nothingness coming from the BRF too often. Some of my creative pursuits: baking and cooking new recipes, DIY and craft projects (I love going to Goodwill, thrift stores, and architectural salvage places for home decor and furniture. Also, I'm not saying you need to pledge allegiance to Catherine, The Princess of Wales in every aspect of your life, but I'm also not not saying that Kate's Ring is an excellent accent color for an end table), learning how to make craft cocktails (it was a pandemic thing), and organizing decades and decades of family photos.

What I also find a cathartic is fanfiction writing. I've had dreams of being a writer since I was Princess Charlotte's age but listen. I cannot stick to a plot for the life of me, because I always want to know "what happens next." But let me tell you. It is hugely cathartic to write a fanfiction novel where a Meghan-like evil witch gets everything she deserves and a Harry-like tortured prince is redeemed by the pure love of an ordinary American girl (okay, that one was pre-Oprah before we all learned how truly messed up Harry is) or where a revenge fantasy where a Harry-like spoiled brat loses everything when he treats his saintly Kate-like girlfriend abominably and when he tries to win her back, she's fallen in love with a Henry Cavill-like swashbuckling Real Man or where the Harry-and-Meghan-like entitled spoilt prince and his wife try to overthrow the saintly and universally loved heir but the Queen swiftly, immediately, justly, and properly handles them with eviction, termination, and worldwide embarrassment. You can do everything to your characters and you can make them suffer in a way the real Harry and Meghan may never.

Find trashier, more trainwreckier drama to get stuck in. Bravo, anyone? A new season of Vanderpump Rules has just started, Summer House is about to start, and two of the villains from OG Vanderpump Rules (Jax and Kristen) have a spinoff series that's about to launch.

Changing your perspective. There's a famous leadership quote about problem-solving: How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time. In other words, you have to take big things (big problems) one at a time, piece by tiny piece. So yes, the big "elephant" is that the Sussexes look like they have everything - they still have titles, they still have massive million-dollar deals, they've got the Olive Garden, the BRF isn't stopping their PR. But also look at everything they don't have anymore:

They can't use their HRHs.

Their RPOs were taken away.

Their royal charities and patronages were taken away.

Charles isn't paying them as much money, if he's even paying for them.

Everyone is blaming them for hastening Philip's and The Queen's deaths.

They were evicted from Frogmore Cottage.

It took six months for the palace website to add Prince/Princess titles to Archie and Lili but it was instanteous to change George, Charlotte, and Louis to "of Wales."

Charles calls them "Harry and Meghan" or "my other son and his wife."

The family doesn't want to be seen with or around them. Even Eugenie seems to have abandoned ship these days.

William isn't taking Harry's calls.

Lili doesn't have a webpage on the royal website.

Harry's military titles and honors have been revoked. All he has left is the merit-based rank he "earned" as an enlisted soldier. (Which is being generous.)

Their Spotify deal was cancelled early. (Scobie admits this in Endgame.)

No more social media birthday greetings/shout-outs from official royal accounts.

Nothing has come out of Netflix except a whinefest docuseries that no one has taken seriously. Everything they've pitched gets shot down and Meghan isn't getting the talent she wants for her movie.

The only awards they're getting are the ones that they pay for - no Grammys for Spare's audiobook, no Emmys or Golden Globes for their documentaries or the Oprah interview, no Pulitzers or Literary Awards for their books. No Nobel Peace Prize for their recordbreaking humanitarian aid work.

They got the knockoff Kennedys (William got the real ones).

Meghan isn't "in" with A-List Hollywood. The celebrities she's been namedropping haven't had commercial box office hits in at least a decade. She isn't hosting or presenting at award shows.

Meghan isn't getting the lucrative influencer sponsorships and merching she wants, which is why she papwalks in parking lots.

Their foundation is a joke and their philanthropy/giving is increasingly under scrutiny for things that don't make sense.

Their "good deeds" are actually ulterior motives designed for maximum PR and celebrity bandwagons, rather than actually helping underserved communities.

There is actual, open, frequent speculation that their children aren't even real and that has to hurt as a parent.

The British press doesn't take them seriously.

They're a comedy punchline, and not just for satire. The Golden Globes made fun of them. The whole world laughed at them after the "car chase."

Harry's lawsuits aren't going well. He's now trying to relitigate a court finding so he doesn't have to pay his fines.

Elton John isn't flying them anywhere anymore. Oprah and Gayle have cut ties. Ellen DeGeneres seems disinterested. Tyler Perry noped out.

Harry's balding is atrocious. (I mean, really. In the overhead camera angles of The Queen's funeral, his bald spot jumps out at you from a mile away. Not even William's bald head stands out that much.)

They/Archewell bleed staff faster than a flesh wound.

Andrew -- ANDREW! -- still has a royal residence, still has RPOs, still gets papped with members of the royal family, still gets friendly press coverage (on occasion), still gets to wear/use some of his honors (like the RVO at coronation).

Eugenie got to have her own personal social media while Harry and Meghan got a "business" account.

The Sussex wedding was overshadowed by so much drama that still persists to this day (thanks for the Markle v Markle lawsuit, Sam!).

Spare made everyone realize Harry is as bad as Meghan and it's not all on her.

Harry's "Hero Harry"/Queen's Soldier PR persona has been completely and thoroughly shattered. Everyone knows it was just a publicity facade now.

Harry isn't even getting the "William's brother" edit anymore - that's now Mike Tindall.

They were erased from most of the Platinum Jubilee - their only official event was the service of thanksgiving. They didn't even get Trooping - Meghan had to arrange for a pap to take her picture to show us they were at Trooping.

They were erased from the Coronation - Harry got lumped in with the extended family (vs the line of succession, order of precedence, or working royals) and didn't get into any of the official programs, memorabilia, or portraits.

They've been shunned by most of British aristocracy - no invite to the Grosvenor wedding later this year.

No royal christening for Lili, and it's exceedingly more and more likely that the BRF hasn't met her yet.

The British media/press actually shows up and will be the first to defend the BRF against Sussex allegations when it really matters.

There are accusations of stolen valor against Harry because he seems to be supporting American military more than British military.

Harry's African charities, of which he is the figurehead, are in crisis with the discovery of SA and other allegations.

Supposedly Harry's role with BetterUp has been downgraded/demoted.

Invictus Games is going through some serious money issues. There's talk of cutting Harry and Meghan loose because they aren't/can't fundraise, and you know they won't go down swinging.

I'm sure there are more, but my point is that even though it looks like the Sussexes are getting away with things, they really haven't. after all, it's death by a thousand cuts...or eating an elephant piece by tiny piece -- it builds up over time.

Also I just realized that the Kate's Ring paint chip linked up earlier shows it being more of a teal or an inkier blue. It isn't - it's more of a cobalt blue or a royal blue.

[eretzyisrael]

by Michael Rubin

On Jan. 7, an Israeli airstrike killed two Al Jazeera journalists in the Gaza Strip. The Qatar-run news outlet immediately accused Israel of targeting journalists and labeled their death an "assassination."

No serious journalist, diplomat, or human rights activist should give Al Jazeera benefit of the doubt. Terrorists have long used media to amplify reach. Chechen rebels would cancel missions rather than move without cameramen to leverage their attack into effective propaganda.

During the Iraq War, U.S. soldiers became accustomed to seeing Al Jazeera journalists pre-positioned to film booby-traps meant to maim and murder Americans. Legitimate journalists do not know about attacks before they occur; terrorists do.

Al Jazeera has a long history of crossing the journalistic line. Al Jazeera journalist Fahad Yasin, for example, used Qatari cash to propel himself to become Somalia's intelligence chief, a position he used to fund terrorism further.

Were Hamza Wael Dahdouh and Mustafa Thuria, the two Al Jazeera employees Israel killed, illegitimate targets? No. Both were traveling in a vehicle with a terrorist. They were operating a drone to surveil Israeli forces and enable Hamas attacks. To knowingly travel with a terrorist with the purpose of supporting that terrorist forfeits one's immunity, just as medics or school teachers lose their immunity if they transport terrorists or give cover for their operations. If press freedom groups are angry, they should not blame Israel but instead launch lawsuits against Al Jazeera for violating the Geneva Conventions in a manner that imperils all war correspondents.

It is in not only Gaza, however, where Al Jazeera violates the norms and ethics of journalism in pursuit of terrorism, violence, or espionage, but also on Capitol Hill. As Rep. Jack Bergman (R-MI) has pointed out, Congress credentials 136 Al Jazeera "journalists" to enable them into House and Senate galleries and expansive access to senators, members of Congress, and staff. Compare that to the New York Times that credentials only 82 members. The discrepancy in coverage — the New York Times produces far more — suggests that something other than journalism may motivate Al Jazeera.

The danger is multifold. The Justice Department has designated Iran's PressTV, Russia's RT, and Turkey's TRT to be foreign agents. Al Jazeera is no different. They are agents of a foreign power that flirts dangerously with terrorism sponsorship even if the State Department and Pentagon are reticent to designate the emirate formally, often for narrow bureaucratic reasons such as the lavish lifestyle servicemen enjoy in Qatar or access to sheikhdom's strategically superfluous al Udeid Air Base.

Al Jazeera may cynically resist measures to bring its credentialed staff in line with journalistic needs by citing First Amendment protections, nevermind that Qatar does not respect any such privilege domestically, nor does it allow open access to its palaces. That Al Jazeera has violated journalistic ethics by conducting surveillance on alleged opponents of Qatar's pro-Hamas, anti-Israel policies simply underscores it is a network of operatives operating under the cover of journalism.

House Resolution 189, introduced by Bergman, is a commonsense measure that should appeal across the partisan spectrum. It plugs a loophole in which foreign agents can claim press credentials to avoid compliance with the Foreign Agents Registration Act. Perhaps its only flaw is it does not go far enough: All journalists receiving access to roam not only the halls of Congress but also the Pentagon and State Department should undergo background checks, whether they are American citizens or not. In addition, the access foreign journalists receive should be proportional to that which American outlets enjoy in their countries.

Democracies and liberal societies rest upon a basis of rule of law. Too often, illiberal opponents shield themselves behind their opponents' idealism and mirror imaging without subscribing to it. With Hamas, this has meant corruption of protected institutions such as schools and hospitals and treating journalism as a shield for terrorism and espionage.

Al Jazeera may mourn its journalists, but they do not deserve the benefit of the doubt. For too long, Al Jazeera has played the outside world for fools. Enough is enough.

[sadnesslaughs]

The worst thing about dying is talking to HR the next morning.

(A response to a writing prompt)

“With all due respect. I didn’t intentionally miss the meeting. I died yesterday. It was on the news and everything. I even texted our boss after it happened, so he knew I wouldn’t be able to make it into the office.” Garth pleaded, not wanting to lose his comfy office job. It was hard for immortals to find work, mainly because most companies either closed or got suspicious of their employee that had been working there for over a hundred years.

That’s why Amiza was perfect. A large distributor of candy and snacks, the sort of company where the bosses only see you as a statistic on an excel sheet. No one cared if he stayed here for six hundred years, as long as he showed up on time. He also had great job security, knowing that both candy and snacks were goods that would never go out of fashion. It was practically an unsinkable business, and yet he hit a roadblock in his employment. Dying yesterday on his way to work.

“Ah, yes. The ‘death certificate’.” The HR manager, Tom, resisted the urge to use air quotes, instead doing the verbal equivalent of it, giving a snarky rise in his voice as he went over the word. “You would have us believe you died and came back to life? It’s not even Easter and Christ has risen. Splendid.”

“Ah, I’m not a god or anything.” Garth said, a little embarrassed by the comparison. He had gone through a cult stage in the early 1000s, something that most immortals did while they were young. After that weirdness, he never wanted to be referred to as a deity again.

“I was being sarcastic, Mr. Backlor. How do you expect us to believe any of this? People don’t come back to life.”

“What about during open heart surgery?”

Tom sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “In that case, they may sometimes come back. Though, I doubt any medical profession is deeming them dead during the surgery. I also assume they wouldn’t turn up to work a day after being declared dead. I want to believe you, Garth, I really do.” Tom lied, already having the termination email template on his screen. “But, you have to give me more to work with. Why shouldn’t we fire you?”

“Because I’m a great employee.” Garth thought that would be obvious. What other answer was he going to give in this situation?

“You’re a good employee. Not great. Great is reserved for people like myself.” Tom smirked, always happy to fluff his own feathers. The man’s arms crossing against his chest as he leaned into his chair, demonstrating the proper authority that comes with a position like his own.

Garth thought about that. “Didn’t you come to work late last Tuesday?”

That smirk shattered as Tom shifted forward, scowling. “I wasn’t aware I was being monitored by you. For your information, I had a terrible emergency that morning.” Tom wouldn’t say what that emergency was, not wanting to admit he got stuck waiting for fresh hash browns in a drive through.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to offend you. I was just thinking that we’re kind of similar. Everyone makes mistakes.”

Similar? Tom fumed at the comparison, tapping away at his keyboard, writing Garth’s name into the empty boxes on his template. “Now that I think about it. Dying would void your employment contract. You wouldn’t even be able to sue us.”

“You can’t do that! I’m telling you, I died. I was even in the work parking lot when it happened. You can check the footage. Some idiot was speeding through the parking lot and they ran me over.”

Tom stopped typing, pausing. “Our car park?” Now he was nervous. A death at their workplace? One that had gotten news coverage? He sweated, wiping his forehead. “We… have signs around the parking lot telling people to slow down. We also have numerous safe crossing areas. You only have yourself to blame.”

Garth thought about the accident. He didn’t remember seeing any signs or crossings. He didn’t remember seeing much of anything except the hood of a car. “I don’t think there were any. I was in the old bit. The one that leads to the underground elevator.”

“Ah, one moment.” Tom hurriedly emailed Jenny, who organized their safety and upkeep, asking her to let him know if they had placed any signage or crossings on the underground parking level. When Jenny said they were doing that next week, Tom panicked. “Ah, why are we even having this discussion? Of course you’re not fired. We couldn’t fire a person for dying.”

Garth didn’t expect the sudden attitude shift, but was happy to hear he wasn’t on the chopping block. “You mean it? That’s great news. I thought I was a goner.” Garth offered his hand to Tom, who quickly shook it. “Yes. Actually, I think a promotion might be in order. To compensate you for your troubles. A great employee should be rewarded.”

“I thought you said I was only a good employee?”

“I didn’t want to ruin the surprise promotion.”

“That makes sense. I think?” Garth wasn’t born yesterday, so he knew what was going on. Even if he hadn’t intended to sue them, the thought of being sued was enough to deter them from firing him. After all, he didn’t want anyone looking too deeply into this either. It was hard enough trying to convince doctors you magically came back from the dead. You didn’t want lawyers also looking into your strange medical records.

“A ton of sense. Now, why don’t you get back to work? I’ll send the paperwork through for your promotion.”

“That sounds great.” Before Garth left, Tom reached over the desk, tapping his shoulder. “Yes?”

“I also might need you to make an address to whatever news company reported on the accident. Let them know it wasn’t as bad as initially reported. Just so we can sweep this whole mess under the rug,” Tom said, begging him to agree. The sooner they covered this up, the better it would be for them all.

“Sure. Bye Tom.”

“Bye Mr. Backlor.” Tom said, slouching in his chair as the man left. Glad he got that ticking lawsuit bomb out of his office. He just hoped he had diffused it, not wanting his own job to get caught in the blast if it went off.

[1americanconservative]

The rest of Europe needs to follow suit🚨

Breaking :

Iceland is doubling down.

Immigration bill approved by the Minister of Justice

The immigration bill of Minister of Justice Guðrún Hafsteinsdóttir has been approved by Althingi.

Iceland’s Parliament, Alþingi, passed a highly controversial immigration bill last night, bringing a contentious five-year process to a close, RÚV reports.

The newly passed legislation strips asylum seekers of their rights, including access to housing and healthcare, 30 days after their applications have been rejected.

Human rights organisations in Iceland have strongly opposed the bill, including the Red Cross, UNICEF, and Amnesty International.

Government voted unanimously in favour

The bill was passed with 38 votes against 15. All MPs in the three-party coalition government voted in favour of the bill, as well as members of the People’s Party and a deputy MP of the Centre Party. MPs in the Social Democratic Party, Pirate Party, and Reform Party voted against the bill. One amendment to the bill concerning unaccompanied children submitted by the Social-Democratic Alliance was approved. Over twenty other amendments proposed by the Pirate Party were rejected.

“This issue confirms the stance I’ve held for a long time, which is that this government is hostile to refugees,” Pirate Party MP Þórhildur Sunna Ævarsdóttir stated. “This is supposed to send a message, it’s supposed to send the message that people need to leave the country, otherwise they will be put on the street, without support and without access to minimum services.” Protesters opposing the bill gathered outside the parliament building yesterday afternoon, including asylum seekers who will lose their housing and access to services now that the bill has been passed.

Icelandic authorities carried out illegal deportation

Icelandic authorities have faced legal backlash for several recent deportations and actions concerning asylum seekers in the country, including withdrawal of services, an action that the bill has now legalised.

In 2021, the Directorate of Immigration withdrew housing and food allowances from around 20 men who were set to be deported, an action that the Immigration and Asylum Appeals Board later ruled as prohibited.

Last December, the Reykjavík District Court ruled that the deportation of Iraqi refugee Hussein Hussein and his family in November 2022 had no legal basis. Their deportation caused widespread outrage when footage surfaced on social media of authorities forcefully removing Hussein from his wheelchair. The incident also caused controversy as airport authorities attempted to suppress media coverage of the deportations.

Last year, the Icelandic state paid damages to an Albanian asylum seeker who was deported in 2019 in her ninth month of pregnancy, despite having a medical certificate stating that a long flight would be difficult for her.

Criticised by human rights organisations

The first version of the newly passed bill was introduced in Alþingi in 2018 but was not passed at the time. This is at least the fourth version of the bill, which has been criticised by human rights organisations each time it has been introduced.

“This is an attempt by the government to establish a policy that involves significantly constricting refugees, curtailing their human rights, and reducing their possibilities for receiving protection in Iceland,” Activist Sema Erla Serdar of the aid organisation Solaris previously tweeted about the bill. “The bill especially targets children and other people in a particularly vulnerable situation.”

[before-civility]

Taylor swift streaming boycott 13th June, pass it on.

She talks about the genocide or we make her respond in a way she will listen to (money).

Why is it important for her to speak out?

She is the most famous person, arguably, in the world right now. There is a term called soft power, which refers to a country's power not linked to military or political power, but instead its cultural messages. Taylors soft power is huge. Not enough to singlehandedly solve things, but would create huge tidal waves of impact and conversation. Think of how much coverage a single new outfit can have.

What would she say? She's a musician not a politician.

Of course, she's not an expert in politics nor should she pretend to be, but she's got (IMO) one of the greatest PR teams going as well as access to lots of money and power. In the same way I know she isn't an expert in stage design and transport across the world, she can hire the right people. She is also a writer, an artist, and the power of people who can do this is in their craft. It doesnt have to be as radical as Hozier's pre-song speeches or Macklemore's Hinds Hall. It could be decidedly "centrist" and just call for a ceasefire without admiting fault.

Maybe its just too much of a powder keg for her to touch but then, also, how is it ok that she asks for more and more money, power and attention and fame if she will not wield it for justice to say things as basic and simple as "genocide is unacceptable".

Can she not craft a diplomatic message? Elevate other accounts? Even drop a cheeky link? Announce a public donation to medical aid?

And if she cant, because it would jeopardise her power too much, then can I continue to give her that power? Beautiful songs or not.

Its so much pressure on her to be this famous, yes. But then if thats so, make a controversial choice for once. Speak out. Lose a few fans. Is that not better?

If you witness evil and say nothing, at what point do you condone it?

[thedisablednaturalist]

If you need insurance anytime within the next year and are thinking about applying for medicaid, open enrollment on healthcare.gov went live Nov 1st! I would heavily recommend applying asap instead of procrastinating like I did. Your state may also have specific health insurance coverage plans. If you are losing your insurance after December 15th, you will probably apply for special enrollment and can apply if you are within a month of losing your insurance (I applied through special enrollment bc my insurance grace period ends on Nov 16th). Medicaid can take as long as 90 days to approve/deny you. Because I procrastinated I'll probably have to get interim insurance which can be expensive especially if you have high medical costs like me.

[talkethtothehandeth]

Why is everything medical so expensive (aside from the fact they want us dead) like $1.5k to get my lungs tested, $880 for fucking blood work and my endo surgery??? My endo surgery to remove pieces of uterine tissue throughout my abdomen and off of my organs??

People say I’m lucky for being on Medicaid and receiving the bare minimum of SSI aid (I couldn’t live on it at all, I cannot save because of bills) and I am so privileged to even have these services. I am SO thankful that I can get help for free, but I am not receiving adequate care; my body is trying to, quite literally, kill me again.

I am so fucking blessed to have no medical expenses, it is something I will forever be grateful for because I’m probably never going to get off of it. I’ve been on Medicaid since I was 3 when they declared me “legally” disabled (yes, really).

Also the government is so horrible with disabled people. The only reason I have this is because my mom fought for me as a kid so hard just so I could be okay. I appreciate her always and I can’t express it enough, the level of gratitude I have for this.

I would die without having Medicaid, but I cannot get certain aids, I cannot have access to doctors unless they approve it, I cannot have any medication they don’t approve, any braces medicaid pays for fall apart and lose their stability because it stretches too much. I cannot go to doctors outside of my main hospital without a referral and approval. I cannot afford to be sick, that is the biggest problem.

Free healthcare seems like a dream, but it is not. Yes you get coverage, in exchange for only being able to have $2k at any time for any reason, not being able to marry your partner, you cannot choose a doctor on your own or where you need to get treated, you don’t have access to eye or ear care, you cannot get into a dentist because there are such few places that accept it and it is full because everyone is fucking poor which means the waiting lists are so long that by the time you’re able to see a doctor, they send you to a new one since your symptoms got worse and out of their field. There is a reason I’m on Medicaid, and it’s not because I have thousands of dollars in my bank account.

Although it is absolutely a privilege, without financial aid I would die. And I fucking hate that this is a reality for so many people. It makes my blood boil knowing we have enough resources to take better care of people, but the government literally refuses to do anything unless they think you’re bad enough. And when you are bad enough to their standards, it’s a whole other type of price to pay.

Tl;dr: people deserve low cost or free healthcare and it is incomprehensible to me how the American health system can just charge you whatever they want for whatever reason when all you want to do is live

[mariacallous]

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and the American Medical Association sent out separate but similar pleas on Monday for unvaccinated Americans to get vaccinated against the extremely contagious measles virus as vaccination rates have slipped, cases are rising globally and nationally, and the spring-break travel period is beginning.

In the first 12 weeks of 2024, US measles cases have already matched and likely exceeded the case total for all of 2023. According to the CDC, there were 58 measles cases reported from 17 states as of March 14. But media tallies indicate there have been more cases since then, with at least 60 cases now in total, according to CBS News. In 2023, there were 58 cases in 20 states.

"As evident from the confirmed measles cases reported in 17 states so far this year, when individuals are not immunized as a matter of personal preference or misinformation they put themselves and others at risk of disease—including children too young to be vaccinated, cancer patients, and other immunocompromised people," AMA president Jesse Ehrenfeld said Monday in a statement urging vaccination.

The latest data indicates that vaccination rates among US kindergarteners have slipped to 93 percent nationally, below the 95 percent target to prevent the spread of the disease. And vaccine exemptions for non-medical reasons have reached an all-time high.

The CDC released a health advisory on Monday also urging measles vaccination. The CDC drove home the point that unvaccinated Americans are largely responsible for importing the virus, and pockets of unvaccinated children in local communities spread it once it's here. The 58 measles infections that have been reported to the agency so far include cases from seven outbreaks in seven states. Most of the cases are in vaccine-eligible children aged 12 months and older who are unvaccinated. Of the 58 cases, 54 (93 percent) are linked to international travel, and most measles importations are by unvaccinated US residents who travel abroad and bring measles home with them, the CDC flagged.

The situation is likely to worsen as Americans begin spring travel, the CDC suggested. "Many countries, including travel destinations such as Austria, the Philippines, Romania, and the United Kingdom, are experiencing measles outbreaks," the CDC said. "To prevent measles infection and reduce the risk of community transmission from importation, all US residents traveling internationally, regardless of destination, should be current on their MMR [measles-mumps-rubella] vaccinations." The agency added in a recommendation to parents that “even if not traveling, ensure that children receive all recommended doses of MMR vaccine. Two doses of MMR vaccine provide better protection (97 percent) against measles than one dose (93 percent). Getting MMR vaccine is much safer than getting measles, mumps, or rubella.”

For Americans who are already vaccinated and for communities with high vaccination coverage, the risk is low, the CDC noted. "However, pockets of low coverage leave some communities at higher risk for outbreaks." This, in turn, threatens wider, continuous spread that could overturn the country's status of having eliminated measles, which was declared in 2000. The US was close to losing its elimination status in 2019 when outbreaks among unvaccinated children drove 1,247 cases across 31 states. Vaccination rates have fallen since then.

"The reduction in measles vaccination threatens to erase many years of progress as this previously eliminated vaccine-preventable disease returns," the AMA's Ehrenfeld warned.

As Ars Technica has reported previously, measles is among the most contagious viruses known and can linger in airspace for up to two hours. Up to 90 percent of unvaccinated people exposed will contract it. Symptoms can include high fever, runny nose, red and watery eyes, and a cough, as well as the hallmark rash. About one in five unvaccinated people with measles are hospitalized, while one in 20 infected children develop pneumonia, and up to three in 1,000 children die of the infection. Brain swelling (encephalitis) can occur in one in 1,000 children, which can lead to hearing loss and intellectual disabilities. The virus can also destroy immune responses to previous infections—a phenomenon known as “immune amnesia”—which can leave children vulnerable to various other infections for years afterward.