#indian military school

[manasastuff-blog]

The Best Army Training Center in Vizag#trending#viral

Manasa Defence Academy stands out as India's best army training centre, providing top-tier training programs designed to prepare students for a successful military career. Located in a prime area, the academy offers state-of-the-art facilities, experienced instructors, and a rigorous curriculum that covers all aspects of army training. Whether you're aspiring to join the Indian Army or looking to enhance your military skills, Manasa Defence Academy is the ideal choice. We’ll take you through the academy's comprehensive training modules, student success stories, and the unique features that make it the top army training centre in India. Stay tuned to find out why Manasa Defence Academy is the best option for your army training needs.

Call: 7799799221

Website:www.manasadefenceacademy.com

#BestArmyTrainingIndia #ManasaDefenceAcademy #ArmyTrainingCentreIndia #TopDefenceAcademy #MilitaryTrainingIndia #ArmyCareer #BestArmyAcademy #IndianArmyTraining #DefenceAcademyReview #StudentSuccessArmy#trending#viral

[townpostin]

Students Honor Soldiers with Rakhis at Sonari Army Camp

Interact Club of NHES celebrates Raksha Bandhan with army personnel In a touching display of gratitude, students from Narbheram Hansraj English School honored soldiers at the Sonari Army camp during Raksha Bandhan. JAMSHEDPUR – The Interact Club of Narbheram Hansraj English School (NHES) celebrated Raksha Bandhan by tying rakhis on soldiers’ wrists at the Sonari Army camp. Students and teachers…

[sandiptrivedi11]

Leadership In Battlefield | Summer at Doon Leadership Programme

The participants of Summer at Doon Leadership Programme embarked on a transformative journey of leadership where they explored the battlefield of Rashtriya Indian Military College, Dehradun (RIMC)

[existentialgaybirdnerd]

Unknown facts about the 141 that even they don't find out from each other until specific circumstances:

Soap knows how to make jewelry, his sisters tricked him into liking it at 10 and it became a hobby he uses to destress. He sells his stuff online or gives it to friends and family for special occasions or just because he wanted to. His specialty is earrings.

His favorite color is purple. Not because he got it from someone else or even because he thought it was genuinely the prettiest color, but because it's a mixture of red and blue, his real favorite colors. He just couldn't pick one so he went with purple for simplicity.

Because his sisters can't sew worth their lives, he learned. It was a necessity, and something he didn't grouch about being "girly" like he jokingly does with the jewelry making sometimes. He thinks everyone regardless of gender or upbringing should know how to sew. Can make an entire outfit just hand sewing, but likes using a handheld sewing machine rather than a desk machine or actually hand sewing. Doesn't make outfits often unless they're gifts.

Has panic attacks. Not because of his time in the military, but because he's had a panic disorder since he was young. Once, he and Ghost get stranded at a safe house for about 2 weeks and he starts thinking about what would happen if they are forced to stay longer. Ghost walks in on him curled up on himself on the side of the bed, breathing so fast it's more of a wheeze than actual air being moved, and comforts him to the best of his ability. He somehow gets out not to touch him, so Ghost sits 2 feet away and starts talking about his life and his family. This was the catalyst for Soap realizing he's been madly in love with Ghost for a long time.

He fell first.

Whenever Ghost gets the chance to, he cooks. This is not a known fact to Soap until they get stranded at a decently stocked safe house with Price and Gaz and he Jerry rigs MREs to taste better.

Ghost likes to grow his fingernails out because to him it's a sign of being healthy. He hates when a nail breaks and tries to resolve any weakness in them to show he's strong and healthy.

He has a (probably) 15 year old pillow he keeps in his bunk. It's a gross color and can be folded so many times, but it's his favorite pillow and he finds he can't sleep well without it. Soap stuffs it full of cut up memory foam when he learns about it and it makes the sleep with it even better. This is the catalyst for Ghost realizing he's madly in love with Soap.

Likes having long hair, hates that he has to crop cut his hair for his work and takes as much time as possible between cuts, thanking the universe that his mask covers his hair because he'd be getting reprimanded often for his choice in how long it gets before he gets it cut.

He fell harder.

Gaz reads romance novels. He likes to make fun of the "my alpha" ones but genuinely gets interested sometimes because he has a habit of putting himself in the MC's shoes.

He likes receiving flowers. One time in secondary school another boy gave him flowers as a prank, this is where he finds out he likes lilies and dahlias the most.

Doesn't like wearing shoes or socks. He's got this thing where something being on his feet feels restrictive, and can't relax unless barefoot.

Doesn't like loud and sudden sounds. Bombs make him nervous and he can compartmentalize around them, but if someone slams something near him when he's relaxing he'll either go into a panic attack or blank out completely. It reminds him of being bullied and abuse more than it does war.

He won the bet on who would be the reason the Ghoap relationship got exposed to them.

Price grabs a newspaper every chance he gets, not because of staying caught up on the news, but because he likes to read and keep his favorite comic strips.

LOVES spicy food, Ghost will walk up to him randomly and hand him a jalapeno or habanero and he'll just crunch it. His favorite takeout when off duty is Indian food. No one said he can HANDLE the spice, just that he likes it.

Always has a bag of skittles on him. One time early on in their friendship Ghost was being mean to himself and refusing to eat more than bare minimum to not die. Being a big man, this means he expended more energy at one point than he had given himself, leading to a black out during a debrief in Price's office. This scared Price so badly until he found out Ghost's blood sugar just bottomed out, now he carries his favorite candy with him. He later adds Reese's for Gaz and twizzlers for Soap.

Price writes a journal every day before going to sleep. He carries a tiny one with him on missions to later transfer into the big one at his bedside table. He confesses his worry for his boys and his observations on their behaviours and likes and dislikes. He keeps a stream of consciousness going on some pages trying to figure out the best way to help if someone has a panic attack in front of him.

He was really hoping his lieutenant was better at stealth while distracted than THAT.

[batboyblog]

On Top of the totally fictional story of black immigrants eating their neighbors cats and dogs here are some more totally fictional stories Trump made up in the last month, does he believe these are real things that happened? or does he just not care at all if he lies making things up at will?

1 Harris and the military draft

At a rally in Las Vegas last week, Trump claimed his Democratic opponent, Vice President Kamala Harris, is talking about forcing Americans to serve in the military: “She’s already talking about bringing back the draft. She wants to bring back the draft, and draft your child, and put them in a war that should never have happened.” That’s absolute bunk. Harris is not talking at all about bringing back the draft.

2 Harris’ CNN interview

Trump claimed during a Fox News event in Pennsylvania in early September that Harris “had notes” to assist her during the television interview she did with CNN in late August. He even performed an impression in which he portrayed Harris supposedly looking down at these notes. She didn’t actually have any notes.

3 Transgender children and schools

At an event held by a conservative group in late August, Trump claimed that schools are sending children for gender-affirming surgeries without their parents’ knowledge. He said, “The transgender thing is incredible. Think of it. Your kid goes to school and comes home a few days later with an operation. The school decides what’s going to happen with your child.” Trump’s campaign subsequently made clear to CNN that it could not find a single example of such a thing having happened anywhere in the United States. Parental consent is required for gender-affirming operations; schools have not performed or approved these surgeries for minors behind their parents’ backs. Even after Trump’s campaign demonstrated that it couldn’t substantiate the story, he repeated it days later at a Wisconsin rally in early September.

4 Harris and the Russian invasion of Ukraine

Trump told a vivid story on Fox News in late August about how President Joe Biden supposedly sent Harris to negotiate with Russian President Vladimir Putin in 2022 in an effort to prevent an invasion of Ukraine. Trump claimed Harris was sent “to see Putin in Russia three days before the attack. She went. She said – she gave her case. He attacked three days later. He attacked three days later. He laughed at her. He thought she was a joke.” Trump also told a version of the story at the September debate. But this story, too, is wholly false. Biden never sent Harris to negotiate with Putin – in fact, the Kremlin said in July that Harris and Putin have never spoken – and Harris did not travel to Russia just prior to the invasion. Rather, Harris traveled to a conference in Germany to meet with US allies, including Ukrainian President Volodymr Zelensky.

5 Harris’ identity

Trump claimed at a convention of Black journalists in late July that Harris used to “only” promote her Indian heritage, then “all of a sudden” made a “turn” and “became a Black person.” Defending the claim, Trump reiterated at the September debate that Harris had “put out” at some point that “she was not Black.” None of that is true. Harris – who was raised in a Black community and graduated from a historically Black university – has embraced her Black identity since her youth. While she has also fondly discussed her South Asian heritage, she never “put out” that she wasn’t Black.

6 Harris’ 2020 primary performance

Trump has repeatedly claimed during the last month that Harris was so unpopular when she previously ran for the presidency, in 2019, that she was the very first candidate to drop out of the crowded Democratic primary. “She was one of 22 people that ran. She was the first one to quit,” he said at a Pennsylvania rally in late August. Not even close. In fact, 13 other Democratic candidates dropped out of the race before Harris did – including the sitting or former governors of Washington, Montana and Colorado; the sitting mayor of New York City; and sitting or former members of the House of Representatives and Senate.

7 Opinions of Roe v. Wade

Facing heavy criticism from Harris and others for appointing three of the Supreme Court justices who overturned the Roe v. Wade abortion rights decision in 2022, Trump concocted a tale that this unpopular decision fulfilled the wishes of “everybody” – including “every Democrat.” “Every Democrat, every Republican, everybody wanted Roe v. Wade terminated and brought back to the states,” Trump said on Fox News in late August. This is not even remotely accurate. Roe was consistently supported by a majority of the American public, and it was overwhelmingly popular among Democrats – with 80% support or better among Democrats in many polls.

8 Elections in California

At a September press conference in California, Trump claimed that “if I ran with an honest vote counter in California I would win California, but the votes are not counted honestly.” He had delivered an even more colorful version of the claim in an interview in late August, saying, “If Jesus came down and was the vote counter, I would win California, okay?” More rubbish. The votes are counted honestly in California, as they are in every other state; Trump loses California because it is an overwhelmingly Democratic state that has not chosen a Republican presidential candidate since 1988. He lost the state in 2020, fair and square, by more five million votes and more than 29 percentage points.

9 A ‘Man of the Year’ award in Michigan

Since 2016, Trump has told a lie that he was named “Man of the Year” in Michigan before he entered politics. Media outlets including CNN have repeatedly noted that Trump never got such an award and that the award doesn’t even appear to exist. But Trump claimed at a Michigan event on Tuesday that he has now been vindicated. “The press said, ‘Oh, it never happened.’ Well, then it did happen. They found out where it was,” Trump said. “But it was like 15 years ago, a beautiful area, but nobody remembered it; nobody remembered it all. All of a sudden, like through a miracle, they found out it did exist.” That’s a lie on top of a lie. The media has not discovered proof that Trump got a Michigan Man of the Year award. His campaign didn’t respond Wednesday to a request to explain what he was talking about.

10 Migrants, prisons and ‘the Congo’

For months, Trump has told a story about how “the Congo” has deliberately emptied prisons to somehow get its criminals to come to the United States as migrants. “Many prisoners let go from the Congo in Africa, rough prisoners,” he said at an August event in Arizona. At an August rally in Pennsylvania the week after, he said, “In the Congo, in Africa: 22 people deposited into our country. ‘Where do you come from?’ ‘The Congo.’ ‘Where in the Congo?’ ‘Jail.’” But Trump has presented zero evidence that “the Congo” has actually emptied any prisons for migration purposes. Representatives for the governments of both the Democratic Republic of Congo and the neighboring Republic of Congo have told CNN on the record that the claim is fiction, experts on the two countries say they have seen no evidence it is true, and Trump’s campaign has ignored requests to offer any substantiation.

11 The jobs revision

After the federal Bureau of Labor Statistics announced in August that its annual revision of jobs data found that the economy added about 818,000 fewer jobs than initially reported for the 12 months ending in March, Trump told a story about how the government had been planning to announce this downward revision “after November 5th,” Election Day, but was forced to do so before the election because of “a whistleblower” – “a patriot leaker.” Another fabrication. The Bureau of Labor Statistics regularly releases the preliminary revised data in August, and it had disclosed the precise date of this particular data release – August 21 – weeks in advance. William Beach, a conservative economist who was appointed by Trump to lead the Bureau of Labor Statistics, wrote on social media: “For those who think the big revision to the BLS jobs numbers ‘leaked’ and was meant to come out after the election, remember that BLS always announces its draft revisions in August and announced this year’s date, August 21, many months ago. It is important to check your facts.”

[reality-detective]

It’s time for me to have another rant! 👇

Buckle up!!! ⚔️🛡️

The State of America:

I am angry. As an American, I am sick and tired of what this country has become. I do probably curse more than I should, but I am pissed off.

Our schools: Children are being indoctrinated by school teachers about sexual activity rather than things they should be learning about. You know, like civics, math, real history and science? What grown ass adult wants to discuss sexual intercourse with a minor? I’ll tell you, a social deviant fucking pervert. That’s who. I will not expose any child to that madness ever.

Our military: Our military is the weakest it has ever been. I have friends that are still in the military and they cannot wait to get out. Not because of their lack of service to this country, but the lack of leadership. The good ones are tired of getting slammed with “woke” PowerPoints on shit that doesn’t even matter to military readiness. It’s dumb. And our adversaries are laughing at us. I can’t even recommend someone to join the military until it is returned to its rightful place as the strongest military in the world.

Our southern border: The southern border is a dumpster fire. More illegal aliens and fentanyl are pouring through the border at record rates. The saddest part about this is the Democrats are wanting ILLEGALS to vote for any and all elections. Democrats only use their party for votes to continue their reign of power, while their own districts are literal shit-holes. Republicans are not safe from this and they really aren't much better. If they wanted the border shut down they would too. Always remember that Americans being murdered was never enough to shut the border down.

Joe Biden: I will never accept the thought that Joe Biden got 81 million votes. You cannot make me believe that the alleged President of the United States of America got the most votes in American history, then was kicked out from running by his own party. Give me a fucking break.

Kamala Harris: This Indian American woman locked up more black men than I have ever seen in my life. She doesn’t care about black people. Never has and never will. She just wants your vote.

Mainstream Media: These retards have been fed so much propaganda that they actually think Donald Trump will incite a civil war if he doesn’t win the 2024 election. You all have an extra chromosome if you truly believe that. There are some that are just gaslighting but a large portion of the population is too stupid to vote if they can’t decipher this.

Speaking of Donald Trump: This man has been given more bullshit to a public servant that I have ever seen in my life. For crying out loud, it has been over 2 weeks since the Deep State almost took his life and no one has been held truly accountable. They are all behind it until proven otherwise. Imagine if that was the other way around. Democrats would want to put the nation on lockdown like they did during COVID.

National debt: As of today the United States is at $35,000,000,000,000.00 in debt. How irresponsible of adults. I will never be gaslit to send money overseas anymore especially since Americans are struggling to put food on their table. How outrageously treasonous.

And to top all of this off. I am a white male that was in the military and now I'm considered a domestic terrorist by some. How unbelievable is this? The same ones that are backing the Military Industrial Complex. The same “elected leaders” that I served, don’t have our backs when we return home. The military are the ones that uphold and defend the Constitution, not them.

This is not what America should be about. This is not the country I served. Not anymore.

ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!!! 🤔

God Bless America. 🇺🇸

[bravo4iscool]

Hii, this this the person talkin about chubbier Simon! Give me a sec and let me set the stage for you,

Simon Riley x 141!reader whos on military leave to cope after a particularly hard mission. Reader finds a way of coping and expressing their love to simon through the art of cooking for him constantly. (i come from largely a guyanese and indian family so everyday theres always good food on the table) So we all know this man can eat ALOT (he needs to maintain his girlish figure after all😌lmao) So i can just IMAGINE him eating all the stews, curries, roti and rice (or whatever culture/country reader comes from)he can get his hands on! He would have such an appreciation for food from working in the military so long and having limited food he could eat. So going from a man of pure slabs of muscle to slabs of muscle but WITH softer abs he gets a little self conscious but he sees the benifits that hes getting alot with a great meal everyday and how his reader ogles him everyday hes starts to like the change. (Theres actually more benefits for having muscle and fat than just pure muscle!! When you see bodybuilders with just pure muscle the muscles in their whole body are constricted causing cramps and alot more muscle pulling in day to day life compared to heavy weight lifters who many not look as muscular but can lift much more while still having a strong core and overall more power)

Sorry to ramble and run but this has been rattling my brain. Have a great day and remember to drink water♡

I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS OMG!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS ASK!!! i‘m sorry i wasn’t able to answer it any sooner, i‘m in my last three weeks of school and it‘s kinda stressful🥲. i hope you can understand…

as someone who is russian-german i totally understand the whole food thing😭 (thats why reader will be russian-german lol. it‘s the only culture i really know about the food and all that (at least i think i know about the food🧍🏼). also, i do not know the english names of the food so i‘ll be using the terms i know.)

i hope you like this!!

(masterlist)

REQUESTS/ASKS OPEN!!!

„y‘cooking too good f‘me,“ simon mumbles as he puts his arms around your waist and pulls you into his chest. „‘m loosing all my muscles.“

you chuckle and turn your head to look at him. „that‘s not true! you‘re just developing a little more fluff.“ you smile and turn again to focus on the food you‘re preparing. „besides having muscles with a layer of fat is way healthier than just muscles.“ you can feel simon nod with his head rested on yours.

„what‘re y‘makin‘?“

„pelmeni,“ you answer, skilfully sticking the dough together so the meat would stay inside while you cook them. „i haven‘t made them for you till now.“

simon lowers his head so it‘s beside yours and examines the dough and meat in front of you. „thought we a’ready had ‘em two weeks ago?“

you shake your head and lick your bottom lip, trying to concentrate. „that were manti simon. they are made like…mochis. pelmeni are cooked in water.“

simon doesn‘t say anything and buries his nose in your neck. „t‘boys will laugh a‘me when we return,“ he mumbles as his lips ghost over your skin to leave little kisses.

„they won‘t,“ you protest and slightly slap his arm. „if anything they will be jealous!“ you dust your hands off and turn around in his arms. he looks at you and you start to frown. „you are not…insecure, are you?“ when simon just blinks at you without answering you take his face into your hands.

„you, simon riley, do not need to be insecure because you’re eating good. you’re not getting fat or losing muscles. if anything, you’re only getting healthier because the army food is total garbage and you’re finally getting some real food,“ you try to explain, withstanding his gaze the whole time. „don‘t beat yourself up over stuff like this.“ your voice is gentle as you caress his scarred face with your thumbs. „you deserve something good life. let me be that something.“

silence follows after you‘re done talking and you could swear you saw a tear in simon‘s eye but then he blinks and it is gone. „i don‘t deserve ya,“ he whispers, pulling you close again. „i don‘t deserve ya…“

„oh, but you do,“ you smile as you pull him down to press a gentle kiss on his lips. „you do deserve me and you also deserve my food.“ you put your arms around his waist and hug him. he does the same, keeping you close to him. he rests his head on yours and closes his eyes. he just wants to savour this moment…

[therealslimshakespeare]

Marcella Ryan LeBeau is a member of the Two Kettle Band of the Cheyenne River Sioux Tribe and lives in Eagle Butte, South Dakota. Her Lakota name is Wigmuke Waste Win (Pretty Rainbow Woman) Her great-grandfather, Chief Joseph Four Bear (Mato Topa), signed the Fort Laramie Treaty in 1868. Her grandmother, Louise Bear Face, was related to Rain In The Face who took part in the Battle of the Little Horn.

Marcella served as a nurse in WWII becoming a 1 st Lieutenant in the Army Nurse Corps. The army service took her from the USA to Wales, England, France, and Belgium. Since receiving the French Legion of Honor Award on June 6, 2004, in Paris France, on the occasion of the 60th Anniversary of D-Day, Marcella has been requested to participate at many Veterans’ events, speaking of her military experience in World War II. Marcella served one term as District 5 council representative for the Cheyenne River Sioux Tribe. She is also honored to speak to the youth at elementary, high school, and college venues when she is invited.

In 1992 and 1995 Marcella and her son, Richard went to Glasgow, Scotland with interest in the return of the Ghost Dance Shirt that was taken from Wounded Knee in 1890. After negotiations, the ghost shirt was returned by the Kelvin Grove Museum. George Craeger, with the Buffalo Bill Wild West Show, sold some artifacts to the museum and donated a Ghost Shirt. It’s now held at the Heritage Cultural Center at the South Dakota Historical Society in Pierre, South Dakota.

After retiring as the Director of Nursing from the Indian Health Service in Eagle Butte, Marcella, and her granddaughter, Bonnie opened a machine quilting shop located in Eagle Butte. They make a variety of quilts. The main feature of their shop is the star quilt frequently used by the Lakota people for honoring and naming ceremonies, memorial give-aways, etc. which are traditional of this area’s native people.

Marcella having raised a family of eight children is an advocate for the Lakota language and culture, youth, veterans, elderly, upholding treaties, and wellness.

Credit: text & photos from wisdomoftheelders.org

[ltwilliammowett]

The East India Company ships

The East and West India Company ships were not ship types in the usual sense. They were generic terms for a series of merchant ship types that travelled between Europe and the overseas colonies in the East and West. Common features of these ships were three masts, several cannons and a high bulwark to make it more difficult for attackers to board them. Their valuable cargo made the ships attractive targets, so they often travelled in convoys, accompanied by medium-armed merchant ships or frigates for protection. But let's go into more detail.

The East Indiaman 'Earl of Abergavenny', off Southsea, by Thomas Luny 1801

The ships of the East India Company were the ships of the English East India Company, a public limited company (shipowners at the early time of the East India Company contributed their ships to the company and received a certain share in the company in return. They received a proportionate share of the company's overall profits and received a dividend even if their own ship was lost, since the 18th century the company build their own ones as well.) which traded with Asia from 1600 to 1834. The company had a monopoly on trade with the East Indies, China and other regions, and its ships carried goods such as spices, tea, silk, cotton, porcelain and opium. The company also played an important role in the colonisation and administration of India and other territories.

East India Company ships at Deptford, by English School, c. 1660

The ships of the East India Company were known as East Indiamen or as Indiamen and were among the largest and most modern of their time. They were designed to withstand long voyages, carry heavy cargoes and defend themselves against pirates and enemy ships. They were also equipped with cannons and muskets and had a crew of sailors, soldiers, officers and passengers. Because of the need to carry heavy cannons, the hull of the East Indiamen - like most warships of the time - was much wider at the waterline than on the upper deck, so the guns on the upper deck were closer to the centreline to increase stability. This is known as a tumblehome. The ships usually had two complete decks for accommodation within the hull and a raised aft deck. The aft deck and the deck below were lit by galleries with square windows at the stern. To support the weight of the galleries, the hull lines were full towards the stern. As mentioned above, the ships were armed and painted to look like a warship and an attacker could not be sure if the embrasures were real or just painted, and some Indiamen carried a substantial armament.

Two views of an East Indiaman of the time of King William III, by Issac Sailmaker, 1685

The Royal Navy acquired several East Indiamen during the Napoleonic Wars and made them fourth rate ships (e.g. HMS Weymouth and HMS Madras), perpetuating the confusion of military ships with merchant vessels as prizes. In some cases, the East Indiamen successfully fended off attacks by the French. One of the most famous incidents occurred in 1804 when a fleet of East India ships and other merchant vessels under Commodore Nathaniel Dance successfully fought off a squadron commanded by Admiral Linois at the Battle of Pulo Aura in the Indian Ocean. And during this time, some of the ships were even travelling under the protection of a Letter of Marque, which allowed them to make their own prizes.

The East Indiaman 'Prince of Wales' disembarking troops off Gravesend, 1845, by John Lynn, 1845 or later - She was built by Green's of Blackwall in 1842 to a design known as that of the "Blackwall Frigates" - Indiamen with the single-decked appearance of frigates.

The ships of the India Companies were not only involved in trade, but also in exploration, diplomacy, warfare and scientific research. They visited many harbours and islands, built factories and forts, fought in battles and wars, negotiated treaties and alliances and collected samples and data. With the advent of the smaller and faster Blackwall Frigates in 1834 came the end of the great Indiamen as these small frigates sailed much faster.

[sparksinger]

Everything I'm Not

Summary: When a Decepticon attack rocks the base and Cordelia's self-worth, Optimus reminds her that family is a choice. One that he makes every day.

Rating: Teen and up (canon typical violence)

Relationships: Optimus Prime & Cordelia (OC), father-daughter dynamic, not romantic

Content/Trigger warnings: canon-typical violence, no major character death, robot gore, Decepticon attack, depiction of battle

Word Count: 10.1k

(complete fic below cut)

“If I ever were to lose you,

I’d surely lose myself.”

‘Future Days’ – Pearl Jam

The sun was beating down unrelentingly on the Autobot base, situated on Diego Garcia deep within the Indian Ocean.  Cordelia’s chestnut-auburn hair was stuck to her face as she focused on putting one foot in front of the other, her sneakered feet pounding the running track that seemed to stretch on endlessly before her. 

Coach Ros Hogan stood at the finish line, the whistle poised between her pursed lips, her dark brown irises tracing her class’s progress as they continued with their gruelling five kilometre run around the track. 

Cordelia’s calves burned more and more with each additional step as sweat trickled from the nape of her neck, down her t-shirt and onto the small of her back.  She cursed Coach Hogan inwardly, risking a quick glance over her shoulder as she tried to keep up with the rest of her classmates.  She was in the last third of people in the thirty-or-so of them that were running.  Sport, or indeed, any manner of physical activity had never been her forte. 

Unless she counted running from Decepticons.  That she could say she was really good at. 

The forty-degree heat did not help matters.  It felt like she had swallowed half the sand on the base, and she yearned for the cool, fresh water she knew was waiting for her after the last two laps that she had yet to run.  She had a sharp stitch making itself known in her left side and the pain behind her skull seemed to beat in time with her feet, each one worse than the last. 

Hannah Reid, a girl of British-Jamaican descent slowed her pace slightly in front of her, adjusting her stride so that she fell into pace easily beside Cordelia.  The bright sunlight cast a rich hue over her light-brown skin, accentuated by her dark brown hair.  Her hazel eyes found Cordelia’s and a raised brow posed her silent question. 

Cordelia had gotten to know Hannah a little better over the last year or so, once she had restarted at the school that was situated on the base at Diego Garcia.  Children of both the military and civilian personnel attended the facility, and Hannah was the only one that Cordelia had felt a genuine connection with. 

Hannah’s father was a Logistics Officer, and her mother was a medic.  Hannah herself was an easy-going, kind-hearted girl who had seemed to be the only one who hadn’t been intimidated by Cordelia’s bond with Optimus.   She had treated her like she treated everyone else, and after a year of being whispered about by the other kids, she found the treatment quite refreshing.

“Coach must be in a bad mood, huh?  Making us run around in this damned heat.  I wonder who pissed in her Cheerios this morning.”  Hannah made speaking seem effortless as she loped gracefully along beside Cordelia, her 5’7” frame covering twice as much distance as Cordelia’s own petite five-foot-one inch did. 

Cordelia exhaled heavily before she answered Hannah, trying to increase the seemingly limited capacity of her tired lungs. 

“This should be…illegal.”  Her words were punctuated by deep inhalations and exhalations through clenched teeth.  “My calves feel like they’ve been submerged in a vat of acid.” 

Hannah snorted and tried to cover it with a strategically timed cough.  “Well, to be fair, it’s worse for you.” 

Cordelia raised a brow in a silent question, unable to summon any more words while her lungs felt like they were in a concrete vice. 

Hannah chortled, placing a hand on Cordelia’s shoulder.  “Well, to be fair, it is worse for you.  You’ve technically run twice as much as the rest of us; or at the very least, you’ve done twice as many steps.” 

Cordelia regarded her friend with what she hoped was an unimpressed stare, blinking to try and stop the sweat from dripping into her eyes. She chose not to reply, but to spend the remainder of her quickly depleting energy on finishing the assigned distance before she collapsed from sheer exhaustion.

The beating of her feet on the floor became her monotone as the track disappeared beneath her, eaten up by each heavy fall of her trainers. It felt like she was having one of those anxiety dreams where no matter how hard and how fast she kept running, the finish line was always just out of her reach.

At long last, she crossed the painted white line and collapsed into a breathless heap onto the tarmac. Her lungs were working overtime, drawing huge volumes of air in before expelling it quickly, completing her respiratory cycle in record time. She scrunched her eyes shut against the harsh glow of the sun, bright as it was at three o’clock in the afternoon.

Cordelia heard Coach Hogan’s whistle blow, sounding like the hallelujah chorus. Hannah approached her then, holding out a bottle of still water to her. Cordelia took her outstretched hand and was pulled to her feet, slightly dizzy with being right-side-up again. She uncrewed the cap and took a long swig, the cool liquid a nirvana against the dry scratchiness of her throat after the run in the searing heat.

“Feelin’ alright Prime?” Hannah asked, taking a drink from her own bottle before replacing the cap. “You doing okay? I don’t wanna have to get the big guy over here to scrape you off the floor.” Cordelia rolled her eyes good-naturedly at her friend’s gentle teasing and nudged her in the side with an elbow.

“I’m fine. It seems my cross-country talents only kick in when there is a life-threatening situation happening, i.e. getting chased by a bunch of blood-thirsty Decepticons.”

Hannah shook her head in mock disappointment. “And here I was thinking that Coach Hogan’s whistle would get you running like Usain Bolt. Tut tut Miss Prime. And technically, wouldn’t it be Energon-thirsty Decepticons? Unless they’ve become afflicted with vampirism, in which case we’d better tell your dad straight away.”

“Oh my god. I think you are actually insane!” Cordelia laughed, pulling Hannah’s arm to link through her own. They started to amble slowly back towards the changing rooms, their heartrates now back down to a healthier rhythm.

Coach Hogan came up behind them, her ever present whistle swinging around her neck. “Come on ladies, get moving! I don’t particularly want to stand here and watch you two run another five laps of the track because you couldn’t be bothered to get back to the changing rooms before the end of the day.”

Cordelia bit back the retort that rose from the base of her throat, knowing it would be futile to argue with Coach on a Friday afternoon. Everyone was hot, tired and all wanted to go home.

Hannah apparently, did not share this viewpoint.

“With all due respect Coach, you set the times. If you had us running an hour ago instead of a half hour ago, we would have extra time to get changed and you could go and get that Martini that clearly has your name on it in the mess hall.”

For a second or two, Coach seemed to be too incensed with rage to reply. Cordelia watched the figurative tumbleweed roll across Hannah’s face, and she knew that Hannah knew she had messed up. Hannah’s grip tightened on her arm imperceptibly, denoting her friend’s instant regret at her smart remark to the temperamental coach.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you Reid. Another five laps!”

Hannah sighed and took her arm out from Cordelia’s, looking at her with an expression of irritated defeat on her pretty face. Coach Hogan didn’t appreciate the delay and took a step towards them both, her whistle grasped tightly between a thumb and forefinger.

“Don’t make me repeat myself Reid. Your father will hear of this insubordination.”

It took everything Cordelia had not to burst out laughing right there and then as she watched Hannah run back to the track and start to run at a steady pace around it in a clockwise direction. She stood there for a few minutes, her vibrant green eyes tracking Hannah’s long, lithe shadow, graceful and fluid as she ran.

I bet I don’t look like that when I run. More like a foal that hasn’t figured out how to stand up yet.

She felt her lips twitch at her inner monologue and worked hard to keep a neutral facial expression. Coach Hogan did not appreciate humour even when she was in a good mood, and though Cordelia had pity for her friend at having to run an additional five laps around the track, she did not particularly want to join her.

“Are you waiting for Christmas, Miss Prime? Unless you want to join Reid, I would suggest you go to the changing rooms and get changed.”

Cordelia did not need to be told twice. She mumbled a quiet ‘yes ma’am’ and scuttled off to the changing rooms at a brisk walk, throwing one last glance over her shoulder at Hannah who cut a lonely figure as she jogged on the tarmac.

The changing room was deserted when she got in there. She decided against having a shower in the school changing rooms. At their very cleanest they were about as enticing as eating her dinner off the floor in the mess hall. She grabbed her bag from the hook she’d left it on as she made her way past, grateful for the fact that there were toilet cubicles available now that everyone else had left.

Once she was dressed in her old band t-shirt and black cycling shorts, complete with her battered Converse shoes, Cordelia made her way out of the changing rooms and around to the front of the school compound where she had left her bike chained at the beginning of the day. 

The Autobot base was huge, easily seventeen square miles, and the quarters that she shared with Optimus were just over a quarter of a mile away.  She biked to school most days, it was an easy and efficient way to get there whilst at the same time meaning she didn’t have to rely on Optimus for lifts.

She was grateful for the base’s flat, smoothly surfaced cycle paths as she made her way leisurely back to the quarters she called home.  Her backpack was light against her back, filled with only her history assignment and the clothes she had worn for Coach’s impromptu run around the track this afternoon. 

A quick glance at her watch told her it was just after four in the afternoon.  She knew that Optimus wouldn’t be home until at least seven at the very earliest.  His average day consisted of back-to-back meetings with various human officials, appointments with government liaisons, overseeing the day-to-day running of the base and making sure that any and all potential Decepticon threats were closely monitored. 

Their shared quarters were in quiet darkness when she got there, punching the access code in that would grant her access.  She dismounted from her bike and walked it in through the ‘human’ sized door that hissed slowly open.  Everything was just as she had left it this morning, snippets of her own presence dotted about the place.

Their shared space was practical yet homely.  Directly opposite the entrance sat Optimus’ enormous desk, built to match the scale of the behemoth twenty-eight-foot tall Autobot leader.  It was constructed from various different metals, some of which had been brought by the second wave of Autobots in the Xantium and built using Cybertronian construction methods.  The chair that went with it was made from old storage containers that had been reinforced with industrial-strength concrete.  It was a sight that always made Cordelia laugh, but she was always grateful when they could work in a companiable silence together.

Her own desk sat atop his, amongst the data pads and other detritus that littered Optimus’ desk.  His was a tidy desk, but the last data pad he used was always sat near the front of his desk, away from the others that he had neatly piled up in the corner. 

A catwalk platform hugged the far right-hand wall.  It housed a small bathroom, kitchenette and an enclosed area where her wardrobe and bed were.  It was small but immensely cosy, and it was more of a home than she had ever known before.�� On the left side of the room was Optimus’ berth, where he recharged once every ten days or so. 

Cordelia tucked her bike against the wall and then made her way over to the small kitchenette to grab a can of soda to keep her company while she attempted to make a start on her history assignment.  She grabbed a punnet of grapes and then hurried down the stairs of the catwalk before ascending the ladder that was attached to Optimus’ desk so that she could sit at her own and begin her work. 

The task that she had to tackle for her history assignment was to analyse the social and economical impact of the advancement of technology during the Industrial Revolution.  Cordelia was a well-rounded student and usually enjoyed history, but having to sit through the teacher’s last few lessons on this particular subject had been a difficult undertaking. 

Sighing, she settled herself at her desk and began making notes, trying to work out some kind of a structure on which to construct her essay.  

The time ticked by slowly, the background noises of the base fading into white noise that kept her company as she worked. 

Two soda cans later, she was halfway through a tedious chapter on the invention on the steam engine, and although it proved fruitless in the entertainment department, it had proven itself ripe with little snippets for her essay.  She was just in the middle of paraphrasing a particularly useful paragraph when she heard the familiar hiss of the door opening. 

She looked up in time to see Optimus walk through the door, his twenty-eight foot high frame just getting enough clearance between his ear finials and the top of the door-frame. 

She abandoned her work, springing up from the desk chair and ran over to the edge of the desk, their eyes finding each other at the same time.  A wide grin split her face in two, as it always did when she saw him. 

She got that same feeling of warmth blooming up within her from the very centre of her chest.  It seemed to spread throughout her entire body, causing the fine, baby-like hairs on her arms and the nape of her neck to stand up in accompaniment with the goosepimples that kissed the surface of her ivory skin. 

No one else on the planet, not even Leo, made her feel as safe and as loved as this gentle mech did.  It was a feeling that she cherished, and she had promised herself that she would never take it for granted, not for one single second. 

Optimus’ optics tilted upwards at their inner corners with his own small, signature smile that he seemed to bear only around her.  His footfalls sounded heavy and even on the floor, growing louder as he neared the desk. 

“Good evening my little one, how was your day today?” he asked, lowering his great bulk until he was sat comfortably before her.  He leaned his forearms on the desk, encircling her in a semi-circle of steel. 

Cordelia sat down, allowing her legs to dangle freely over the edge of the desk so that she could swing them gently to and fro.  Optimus’ optics traced her movements, bathing her in a pool of gentle blue light as his gaze settled upon her. 

“It was okay.  I managed to get some good notes done for my history assignment, although I might die of boredom before I actually manage to finish it.” 

Optimus raised an incredulous brow at her diatribe.  “Oh, that is something that I simply cannot allow to happen.  I would hate for you to perish due to lack of mental stimulation, and I know Mr Edwards for one would be absolutely devastated to be deprived of your contribution to…” he paused here, leaning forward slightly to read the mess of papers that lay upon her desk.  “…the social and economical impacts of the growing advancement of technology during the Industrial Revolution.” 

Cordelia eyed him will ill-disguised astonishment.  “Why, Optimus, it sounds like you’re being a little…sarcastic.  Don’t you know that sarcasm is the lowest form of wit?” her lips twitched as she spoke, betraying her inner mirth at their exchange of gentle banter.

Optimus canted his head to one side, feigning innocence.  “Sarcasm?  I would not dream of sinking to such a…deplorable level.  I merely speak the truth.”  His expression was a perfect poker face, giving nothing away.  Not even the covers of his ear finials were spinning. 

Cordelia could hold it in no more and burst out laughing, shaking her head in gentle disbelief at her giant guardian.  “Do you know something big guy?” she asked, wiping a stray tear from her eye once she had recovered enough from laughing to speak. 

“I am sure you will make me aware, little one,” he rumbled, his own lip plates twitching infinitesimally.  He nudged her playfully in her ribs with an index finger as he spoke, causing her to yelp out in surprise. 

She playfully swatted him away and made a fist at him, waving it backward and forwards in front of his field of vision before tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. 

“You are the biggest dork on the planet.  Literally!” She was rewarded with his low, gentle and rumbling chuckle.  It reverberated deep within her ribcage, making her feel like rippling water. 

He placed a hand palm up on the desk then, waiting for her to step on.  She did so without hesitation, her feet knowing where to step without her having to look where she was going.  She assumed her favourite position on his palm; sat down with one leg tucked beneath her and her left arm hooked around the base of his index finger. 

“I will accept that, but only from you my little one.  Only from you.”  His optics softened as he spoke, looking at her with the pure unfiltered and unconditional love that existed in such unlimited bounds between them.  “How was the rest of your day, aside from the deep trauma of nearly being bored to death by your history assignment?” 

Cordelia leaned back easily into the gentle curve of his fingers, drawing absent-minded circles into the metal of his palm with her nails. 

“Oh, it was okay.  Nothing major.  Coach tried to kill us, and Hannah got five extra laps for being a smart-ass.”  She immediately regretted her choice of words when she saw the thin set of Optimus’ mouth and the way his optics had narrowed dangerously, the dull flare of anger glowing behind his cerulean irises. 

“Coach tried to kill you?”  his voice was quieter than usual, and it sounded like he was working hard to keep control of his tone. 

Cordelia sighed and buried her face in her hands.  “Ugh, obviously she didn’t actually try to kill us.  She just made us run around the track in this heat, and I thought it was a little unfair.”  She heard the whirring and hissing of hydraulics as Optimus moved, but she didn’t raise her face from her hands.  She felt the cool touch of his index finger, prying her face away from her hands with the incredible gentleness that only he seemed to be capable of. 

“How far did she make you run?” his tone brokered no room for argument, and she knew that sidestepping the question or trying to distract him would only make him more determined than ever for a straight answer.

“It wasn’t even that far, and---”

“Cordelia.”  Her name, uttered in that no nonsense baritone of his was enough to stop her in her tracks.  Stupidly, she felt the biting sting of tears behind her eyes and blinked them away furiously, refusing to show Optimus that she was upset. 

As usual, he saw right through her façade and tenderly moved his finger until it was underneath her chin, carefully tilting her face upwards until their eyes met.  “Oh Lia, please don’t be upset, I am not angry with you.  In fact, I am not angry…merely…displeased at the thought of you needlessly expending physical energy in this heat.  I simply wish to know if Coach Hogan put you and your peers at risk; for if she has, this is an oversight that must be rectified immediately.” 

His finger moved to stroke her cheek, and she leaned into his touch, closing her eyes against his gentle affection.  She rolled her shoulders, trying to ease the tension that had suddenly taken up residence in her trapezius and deltoid muscles.  Optimus watched her with that eternal patience that he seemed to possess in such abundance, waiting for her response as if he had simply asked her what her favourite colour was. 

She dropped her eyes from his and placed a hand on his fingertip, patting it in a way that she hoped would show him she was not upset.  Or that upset, anyway.

“She made us run five kilometres.  It wasn’t that far; I’m just being dramatic.”  She felt rather than saw the gentle ex-vent of cool air from his nose, having been cycled through the ventilation systems situated underneath his helm, the ones that helped to keep his CPU at its core temperature.

Optimus’ own shoulders relaxed by a fraction of a degree, evidenced by the quiet hissing of his hydraulics.  He was silent for a short time, although the covers of his ear finials did a quarter of a turn counterclockwise, denoting his mild annoyance. 

He pinched the bridge of his nose between a thumb and forefinger, shutting his optics for a few seconds before responding to her.  “Thank you, my little one.  While I wholly support the continual development of your physical health and education, I do not condone the needless pursuit of exercise when there is a high chance it will be detrimental due to the high temperatures that we have experienced today.” 

Cordelia smiled at him weakly and chewed on the inside of her cheek to buy herself some time.  She noticed that his pupils had grown smaller and that his brows were beginning to tilt down in his characteristic frown, forming a loose facsimile of the letter ‘V’.

“Hey, relax big guy.  You worry way too much.  We had water and she wasn’t y’know…being a total drill sergeant about it.  I’m fine, we’re all fine.” 

Optimus simulated a sigh and fixed her with that penetrating gaze of his, the one that she felt could see right through to the very depths of her soul, to the very foundations of all that made her, her.

“I trust your judgement, Cordelia.  However, it still does not sit well with me.  Are Hannah’s parents aware that she endured further physical exercise in the form of punishment?” 

Cordelia shrugged.  “I guess so.  I mean, Coach said that she would make Hannah’s father aware of her ‘insubordination’ as she called it, so yeah, I would imagine they know.  If Coach didn’t tell them yet, I know Hannah would have by now.  She’s even more dramatic than me you know.” 

That caused Optimus’ facial features to loosen, and a small smile moved his lip plates upwards at the corners, giving his face an overall more gentle and softer appearance. 

“Is that so?” he asked, clearly meaning it as a rhetorical question. 

Cordelia stuck her tongue out at him in response and he ruffled her hair playfully with his index finger. 

His face grew serious again.  “Would you allow me to speak with Coach Hogan?  I merely wish to understand her motivations for assigning the class such a task in this weather.” 

Cordelia shut her eyes, puffing out a mouthful of air from puffed up cheeks.  “Op…I’d prefer it if you didn’t.  She is…unique in her teaching methods, I’ll give you that.  But you speaking with her…it will only cause more aggravation.” 

Optimus ex-vented air from his nose again, the slightest hint of steam uncurling from his nostrils and into the open air.  “I will not apply needless blame, nor make it difficult for you and your classmates in future lessons, but” he paused, lifting a finger to stroke her cheek.  “But your safety is one of my most important priorities, Cordelia.  The thought of any harm coming to you, even harm that you may perceive as merely…minor, it pains my Spark in a way that I cannot comprehend or put into words.” 

“Oh Op, come here.”  Cordelia shuffled forwards on his palm, her arms outstretched.  He wordlessly closed the gap between them, nuzzling her face carefully with his nose.  She smiled against him and rubbed circles into his facial plating with her nails.  “I tell you what, would you be open to a compromise?”

Optimus pulled back slightly so that he could look at her properly.  “A compromise?  I will listen with an open mind little one.” 

“How about this time, you let it go, but I promise you that if Coach does anything again that I feel is…untoward or not…safe, I will tell you straight away and then you can speak with her.  Is that fair enough?” 

He regarded her with a look that could only be described as pure pride, his previously small pupils growing exponentially.  “Indeed…that sounds like a fair trade.  If you wish that to be the end of the matter, then it shall be.” 

Cordelia swallowed, suddenly overcome with a wave of emotion.  “Thank you, Optimus…for listening to me.  I can’t say how much it means to me that you do.” 

“Of course I listen to you Cordelia.  I always want you to be able to speak your mind with me.  Your viewpoint is incredibly important to me, and I will always listen to you and make sure your voice is heard.  Always.” 

Cordelia was about to reply when her stomach decided that that would be the appropriate time to emit a thunderous rumble.  She placed a hand on her abdomen, embarrassment flushing her cheeks with scarlet colour. 

Optimus raised an optic ridge at the sound, a wide smile making its way onto his face.  “I think it would be prudent to find a solution to your evident hunger, my little one.  Shall we see what you have in the cupboards?” 

.o

A dull, rumbling vibration roused Cordelia from the dregs of sleep.  She opened her eyes to the dark, murky shapes of her and Optimus’ shared quarters, her vision struggling to adjust for the first few seconds of consciousness. 

She pushed herself into a sitting position, the duvet falling from her shoulders and pooling at her waist.  Another low concussion rocked the foundations of the base, and she could have sworn she saw the bottle of water on her bedside table ripple slightly. 

The noise of the doors hissing open claimed her attention.   Optimus hurried through, the faint blue glow of his optics the only source of light in the otherwise dark room.  He had something clutched in his left hand and dropped it in front of her on the bed before wordlessly turning and retrieving a few bottles of water, tucking them into the subspace pocked on his forearm. 

The item he had dropped on her bed was a large jacket, army issue and one that looked miles too big for her.  She was about to ask him why he had given her a random jacket when the alarm began to sound.

It was low and deafening, filling her ears with its low, monotonous drone.  She didn’t need to be told twice to get dressed and hurried herself into a pair of leggings that she’d slung over the foot of her bed a day or so previously.  Next, she donned the jacket, tucking her arms into the long sleeves and having to roll them back two or three times so that her hands could actually be free.  The hem of the jacket easily fell halfway down her thighs, but that didn’t matter now. 

The next thing she was aware of was being scooped up into Optimus’ immense palm, his fingers holding her securely.  He held her close to his chest, his free hand hovering just above her.  He was in full Prime mode, his optics tight and trained on something in the near distance.  His mouth was pressed into a thin line, and just as another low explosion rocked the immediate vicinity, his battle mask slid into place across his mouth and nose. 

“Optimus, what’s happened?  What’s going on?” her voice sounded quiet and vulnerable amidst the muted booms and explosions, and Optimus armed himself with his Energon sword, clearly not wanting to take any chances. 

“The base is under attack.  I am taking you to the emergency assembly point.  It is one of the most fortified shelters on base.  You will be safe in there with the other civilians.  I am going to appoint Bumblebee to stand guard outside so that no one unauthorised can gain access.” 

He broke into a loose jog, his hold on Cordelia growing a little tighter with the increased movement.  She held onto his index fingers tightly, her own knuckles blanched white with the effort.  The base flowed along effortlessly beneath her, eaten up quickly by Optimus’ long strides.  NEST soldiers darted around like ants, gathering weapons and co-ordinating themselves into defence and attack groups. 

In what felt like no time at all, Optimus reached the entrance of the emergency shelter and dropped to his knees, a little more heavily than he usually would have done.  A tall, thick-set soldier was stationed at the door, taking a register of all who had gone inside so far.  Optimus lowered her to the ground and tipped his hand gently, allowing her to slide off his palm and onto her own two feet. 

She turned around before he had fully released her, desperate to speak with him before he went off to join the battle.  He shifted so that he was only down on one knee, leaning his weight on his forearm, resting on the other knee. 

“Go on my little one.  I will find you after this situation has been dealt with.  You’ll be safe here, I promise.”  He tenderly ran the tip of his index finger down her face as he spoke, drawing a path from her temple down to the fine line of her jaw. 

“Stay safe, promise me you’ll be safe.”  Cordelia looked up at him earnestly, not one ounce of worry for herself present in her mind.  All she could think of was that he would soon be running into a barrage of Decepticon fire.  Decepticons who did not care and who would stop at nothing until their end goal was achieved.  Whatever that end goal was. 

His battle mask retracted, and a look of gentle affection transformed his entire face.  “I promise you Cordelia, I will come back to you.  You have my word.  Now, on you go.  That’s my girl.” 

He nudged her gently towards the entrance of the shelter, anxious to get her inside.  The tall soldier reached out for her, taking her left hand in his and marking it with a messy ‘26’ in black sharpie. 

“I know who you are kid, but just in case.  Always good to have an ID system going in times like this.”  He turned to look at Optimus, standing to attention.  “Don’t worry sir, she’s in good hands here.  We’ll make sure she’s well looked after for you.” 

Optimus nodded gratefully and reached into the subspace pocket on his forearm, pinching two two-litre bottles of still water between a thumb and forefinger.  He handed them to Cordelia, his mask sliding back into place across his face. 

He rose to his full height then and sprinted off to join the fight, his heavy footfalls sending vibrations throughout her whole body.  She had no time to lament his absence as the large soldier ushered her inside, a hand on the small of her back as he guided her into the enclosed space.

“I’m Sergeant Grayson ma’am, nothing to worry about.  Prime and the Autobots will have this sorted in no time.” 

She didn’t reply but smiled at him weakly, watching him as he tipped his beret to her before going to resume his post at the entrance to the bunker.  She set the two water bottles down; evidently Optimus had not been the only one to be well prepared.  There were at least two dozen water bottles scattered throughout the small and sparsely furnished room. 

Well, at least we’re not going to go thirsty, she thought wryly, turning in a slow circle to take stock of her new surroundings.  The room itself was basic and clinical in every sense of the word.  Grey was the colour of choice for everything in the room, the only variation being different shades of the same colour. 

Her eyes scanned the room for Hannah.  Hannah’s barracks were in Zone D, the same zone in which she and Optimus’ shared quarters were located.  Hannah’s parents would not be in the shelter, her father would be co-ordinating with the other NEST personnel and her mother would be on standby in case of any unexpected casualties. 

Cordelia recognised some girls from her class at school and smiled at them with that surface level smile saved for casual acquaintances, but did not go over to speak to them.  She was too preoccupied with trying to find Hannah. 

The bunker was filling up fast, and though Cordelia recognised a lot of the faces that were pouring in, none of them were Hannah’s.  She decided to go and check the single toilet in case Hannah was in there, a growing sense of unease gnawing in the pit of her stomach over the whereabouts of her friend. 

Panic grew within her, slowly at first as the minutes ticked by without any sign of Hannah.  As time passed, her heart began to hammer more forcefully in her chest, beating a jumpy staccato against her ribcage.  Saliva pooled in her mouth as nausea claimed ownership over her stomach, threatening to eject her evening meal.  She focused on taking deep breaths in through her nose, and letting them slowly out through her mouth, attempting to replicate the gentle thrumming of Optimus’ Spark in her head.

Dull explosions continued in the distance, muffled by the bunker’s thick, reinforced concrete walls.  Cordelia weaved her way through the bodies that were pressed together once more, making sure she hadn’t missed Hannah in all the chaos.  After another two laps around the room, Cordelia was certain that Hannah was not anywhere within the compact throng of people. 

She positioned herself close to the entrance, waiting for the opportune moment to sneak out.  Sergeant Grayson was preoccupied with checking another few people into the building, marking the back of their hands in black sharpie as he had done with her.  Bumblebee was standing with his back to her, concentrating on a data pad he had clutched in one hand. 

Keeping herself tucked close against the wall, she allowed herself to be moved along with the constant current of flowing bodies, seamlessly blending in with everyone else.  The late-night air was mild, yet significantly cooler than the day’s blistering forty-degree heat.  Cordelia could smell hints of hibiscus and coconut palm on the sea breeze, a stark contrast to the muted booms that were coming from the south. 

Cordelia wasted no time, breaking into a brisk jog, heading straight for the barracks that Hannah shared with her parents.  It took her only minutes to get there, the non-descript building looking as it always had done, sitting innocently amongst the other barracks. 

The ground vibrated subtly beneath her with yet another explosion as she approached the front door and gave two loud raps with her knuckles.  She was met with nothing but eery silence. 

A few tense seconds ticked by as Cordelia felt her mouth grow drier as more and more time passed by.  She had just raised her hand to knock once more when the door was thrown open, causing her to take an involuntary step backwards.   

Hannah half fell out of the door, her dark wavy hair dishevelled and pointing in all directions.  She looked up then, her eyes meeting Cordelia’s. 

“Hey!  What are you doing here?  Come on, we need to get going!  My dad’s just rung me and told me that the ‘cons have attacked the main emergency shelter!  He told me to go straight to the command centre!” 

She gave Cordelia no chance to reply but grabbed her by the right wrist and started pulling her along in the direction of the command centre.  The command centre sat in the very centre of the base itself, the main hub of activity and communication for all who lived and worked on Diego Garcia.  Optimus spent most of his time there and when Cordelia had caught up on her schoolwork, she often spent the evenings there keeping him company while he finished up the fiddlier parts of his day. 

Cordelia struggled to keep up with Hannah’s longer stride, pumping her legs to make up for the lack of distance that she covered compared to her friend.  Hannah’s grip on her wrist was hard, and despite the relative mildness of the late night, her skin was cold to the touch. 

A low, whistling sound distracted Cordelia from her second sprint in less than twenty-four hours and she lifted her head to find the source of the sound.  A projectile was heading straight for them.  Whether it was a bullet or a missile, Cordelia could not tell.  All she was aware of was the sound growing louder and louder, reminiscent of a low growl as it got closer and closer to the two girls. 

Cordelia tried to pull Hannah out of the way of the incoming danger, but it was like trying to pull a brick wall down with her bare hands.  Hannah did not yield to her by one single inch.  Time seemed to slow as the projectile dropped in altitude, looking to make landfall right in their path. 

Then, just at the very last minute, a huge slab of concrete was thrown over their heads and into the trajectory of the ballistic.  The force of the following explosion knocked both Cordelia and Hannah off their feet, the world temporarily turning upside down as they flew through the air before falling back to earth with a sickening crunch. 

In the back of her mind, where rational thought still resided, Cordelia was mildly impressed that Hannah had managed to keep a hold of her wrist, fingers biting into her skin in a manner that bordered on painful. 

As she landed, her left arm bent underneath her at an unnatural angle and she felt a tangible crack before a jolt of severe pain shot down through her entire arm.  She barely had time to register what had happened before an enormous black, metallic foot slammed down mere inches from where she and Hannah were laying. 

Her eyes traced up the leg to which the foot was attached, and she felt her heart leap into her mouth as her eyes locked onto the scarlet optics of Barricade.  His mouth turned upwards in a cruel smirk as he bent down, a hand outstretched. 

Again, Cordelia tried to roll out of the way and pull Hannah with her, but Hannah didn’t budge.  She appeared to be completely immobile, seemingly rendered into shock by what was going on around them.  She pulled once more, wincing through clenched teeth as another jolt of pain shot up through her arm. 

Barricade’s outstretched hand was drawing ever nearer, and Cordelia scrunched her eyes tightly shut, sending a fervent prayer of love to Optimus, hoping that on some visceral level, he would be aware of it before her life was snuffed out by the encroaching Decepticon. 

At the last possible minute, another hulking black mass, this time flecked through with bits of gunmetal grey, hurtled through the air and straight into Barricade. 

The two titans’ bodies met in an explosion of sparks and metal screeching against metal, the sound almost painful.  Ironhide rolled to absorb the impact of his leap and before Barricade could get to his feet, swung his right arm and delivered a swift uppercut to the Decepticon’s jaw that sent him flying once more.  In a move so fast she couldn’t follow it with her eyes, Ironhide armed himself and unleashed a storm of bullets down on Barricade, pinning him to the ground. 

Chunks of concrete littered the air, falling like rain.  Hannah suddenly found herself again and pulled Cordelia easily to her feet and once more in the direction of the command centre.  Barricade was starting to retaliate against Ironhide’s relentless attack, but not before the Weapons Specialist turned his head in the girls’ direction. 

“What the frag are you doing out here?!  Get to the shelter – NOW!”

In any other situation, Cordelia would have found Ironhide’s tone of voice terrifying, however, it was not his tone of voice that terrified her, rather than the fact that he himself sounded terrified.

Hannah forced her legs into motion once more, pulling her along with a renewed sense of urgency and strength.  Cordelia had no choice but to be towed along by the stronger girl, her own feet pounding on the floor twice as much as Hannah’s to make up for the difference in their strides. 

Cordelia could smell the acrid scent of gunfire and scorched metal in the air, the night sky lighting up intermittently with explosions that rocked the world all around her.  She tried to concentrate on nothing except her own footfalls, trying to count along to a beat in her head. 

Behind them, Ironhide was still going toe-to-toe with Barricade, the vibrations from the force of their clash travelling through the ground and up into her body.  Her eyes widened when she saw Optimus directly in front of them, locked in a fierce brawl with no other than Soundwave. 

Fear clenched around Cordelia’s heart, her vision tunnelling until Optimus and Soundwave were the only things that she was aware of.  Her eyes tracked every iota of Optimus’ movements.  The way he lifted his left arm to block a blow from Soundwave and the way that he countered with a swift kick to the Decepticon’s chest before unleashing a powerful blast from his Ion Blaster, sending Soundwave flying through the air. 

Before Soundwave could get up, Optimus transformed into his vehicle mode and covered ground faster than Cordelia had ever seen him move before, crashing into Soundwave with a force that she felt in her bones.  Optimus executed a swift handbrake turn, halting Soundwave’s progress in getting back to his feet with his back fender, putting the Decepticon on his back once more.

Metal screeched against the floor with a ferocity that set Cordelia’s teeth on edge, her legs momentarily slowing to follow the progress of the battle.  Optimus transformed back to his bipedal mode, his foot slamming down onto Soundwave’s chest. 

Even from this distance, Cordelia could hear the groaning of Soundwave’s frame under Optimus’ immense weight as the larger and heavier Autobot leader bore down on the smaller Decepticon.  Soundwave lifted his head from the floor then, his crimson optics locked on the two girls running straight for them. 

Cordelia snapped back into reality then, digging her heels into the ground in an effort to slow Hannah down, pulling back at the same time.  This time, Hannah responded to the resistance and turned to look at Cordelia, a confused frown creasing her face. 

“We’re going the wrong way!” Cordelia shouted, pulling Hannah in the direction of the command centre.  Once again, Hannah was unyielding, seemingly totally unaffected by Cordelia’s attempts to get her to change direction.

“No, you’re wrong!  Massster says I must bring you this way.”  Hannah’s voice was toneless and devoid of any discernible emotion. 

Ice shot through Cordelia’s veins, paralysing her to the spot.  Her heart pounded furiously in her chest, in perfect time with the beat of blood in her eardrums that momentarily deafened her. 

“What-what do you mean?  The command centre is this way!” Cordelia could hardly hear her own voice over the cacophony of gunfire and metallic scraping. 

A horrific grin split Hannah’s face, metamorphosing it into someone that Cordelia did not recognise.  Bile rose up into her throat as she watched Hannah’s skin bubble and recede to reveal a purplish metallic surface, its plates shifting and rearranging until all traces of Hannah had been erased.  In her place stood a Decepticon at a height of around six feet, eerily similar to the Decepticon Frenzy. 

His face still bore that sinister grin, an evil laugh bubbling up from somewhere within him.  Now completely rid of his human disguise, he coiled his spindly limbs around her, ignoring her shouts of pain when he pinned her broken arm to her side with ease. 

He lifted her as if she was nothing more than a bag of shopping, slinging her roughly over his shoulder in a loose approximation of a fireman’s carry.  He sprinted toward Optimus and Soundwave, intent on delivering her to the superior Decepticon Commander. 

Optimus’ head snapped up then, his optics dilating with pure, undiluted fear as his gaze locked onto Cordelia.  Time seemed to slow between them as he launched himself off Soundwave, simultaneously transforming into his vehicle mode as he did so. 

He landed roughly on the ground, his suspension taking the brunt of the impact.  There was about 150 metres between them and his 425-horsepower engine ate up the distance as if it were nothing at all.  In less time than it took for her to draw another panicked breath into her lungs, Optimus was upon them, transforming back to his robot mode with a graceful flourish. 

He skidded forward on one knee, his left hand outstretched.  His fingers wrapped around the pair of them, lifting them from the ground with ease.  The fingers of his right-hand sought purchase on Rumble’s body, easily prising him away from Cordelia.  Rumble thrashed furiously in Optimus’ grasp, but it was futile.  Cordelia watched wide-eyed as Optimus’ fingers closed around the mini-con, effortlessly crushing him until he was nothing but a twisted mass of bent metal and sparking circuits. 

Optimus dropped him and cradled Cordelia protectively to his chest, lifting his head just in time to see Soundwave and Barricade hobble through the dying light of a groundbridge, disappearing into a swirling vortex of blue-green light. 

His optics fixed her in his steady gaze, still at their widest aperture despite the Decepticons’ retreat.  She felt the light tickle of a scan before his fingers palpated her body with the utmost gentleness, doubtless checking her for injuries.  He stopped abruptly when he got to her left arm, feeling the injury that she had sustained there.

“You’re hurt,” he muttered, rising to his full height and moving toward the med bay decisively.  “I’m taking you to Ratchet.”   

Cordelia suddenly found her words as she was carried over the remnants of the brief but intense battle, NEST personnel outing out stray fires here and there that dotted the immediate vicinity. 

“Optimus, wait, wait!  We need to find Hannah, she’s in trouble!” 

That pulled him up short.  A confused look crossed his features, moving the mosaic of his facial plating into a serious frown.  “Cordelia, Hannah is safe with her mother in the triage centre.  She’s helping with first aid.” 

Multiple feelings of simultaneous relief and disbelief flooded Cordelia’s psyche at the same time.  Immense gratitude for the knowledge that her friend was safe and away from danger, closely followed by the embarrassment realising she had fallen for the guise of a Decepticon Pretender. 

“Shh, it’s alright.  Come on, let’s get you patched up.”  No further words were exchanged between them as Optimus ducked to go through the doors of the med-bay. 

.o

Ratchet treated her arm quickly and efficiently, informing her and Optimus that it was a clean break and that she’d need to be in a cast for the next six weeks.  Other than that, he said, it should heal without complications and function as it had before, albeit with an added weakness. 

He’d shaken his head good naturedly at her as his nimble fingers wrapping the plaster of Paris around her arm with ease, saying “always the left arm with you!” 

She’d sat silently on the berth in the med-bay, Optimus sitting wordlessly beside her as Ratchet worked.  Once he was finished, Ratchet had gone to assist the other Autobots with repairs, setting up his own triage system in the neighbouring hangar. 

After Ratchet left, the silence was unbearable.  Neither Optimus nor Cordelia said anything, both too shell-shocked by what had just happened to form any coherent sentences.  Cordelia wasn’t aware of how many minutes ticked by, but she could not find it within herself to look at Optimus.  She did not want to see the weight of the disappointment in his gaze or feel the sense of shame anymore than she already was. 

She fiddled with the edge of her cast, tapping her nails on the fresh plaster.  Her blood beat furiously in her ears, audible evidence of time’s unwelcome passage.  She was aware of Optimus sitting next to her on the berth, her gaze fixed pointedly on his feet.  There was a good ten feet between the berth and the floor below, and Cordelia debated how likely it was that she would sustain another injury if she attempted to jump off the berth.  She was sitting on the edge, her legs dangling over from the knee. 

She shifted forward a few inches, mentally psyching herself up to make the jump.  It wasn’t that high, not really.  She’d fallen from higher places and not had injuries that had been too serious. 

However, before she could move forward another centimetre, she felt a gentle pressure around her waist and looked down to see Optimus’ digits there, wrapping around her middle and lifting her carefully into the air, mindful to avoid her broken arm. 

Her hands instinctively held onto his index finger as she was raised higher into the air.  Still, she did not look him in the eye as he transferred her onto the palm of his left hand and dominant hand of choice, raising her up to his eye level. 

The atmosphere between them was thick with unexpressed tension, weighing down heavily on the pair of them.  Cordelia could hear the increased volume of air being taken in through the vents on the back of Optimus’ head, cycling through his intakes quicker than usual and being ex-vented as a lukewarm steam that she could feel on her face and the nape of her neck.

Her chin dropped to her chest, her heart beating a furious tattoo behind her ribs.  Her hands shook slightly, and she clenched them into tight fists in an effort to stop it, her nails biting into her palm painfully.  Too late, she realised that was the wrong thing to do as a fierce pain travelled up her left arm, reminding her of the break Ratchet had just treated. 

“Shit!”

She shot up into a standing position on Optimus’ palm, cradling her injured arm against her chest.  Optimus did not reprimand her for swearing, or indeed say anything at all, but she could feel the weight of his gaze on her.  She could hear the quiet click of his optics as he blinked and the whir of their housings as he tracked her frenzied movement across his palm. 

She peeked over the edge of his hand to see how high she was, her heart sinking when she realised, she would not simply be able to slide off.  A louder intake of air finally made her look up, the sight that met her eyes making her wish immediately that she hadn’t. 

Optimus’ face was a mask of inscrutable emotion, save for the set of his optic ridges.  They were tilted upwards by a fraction of an inch, denoting only a hint of the feeling swirling within him.  He regarded her for a long time, his blue optics unblinking.  She could not hold his gaze and dropped her eyes back down, tears threatening.

“By the AllSpark Cordelia…what could have possibly been going through your head to make you think that running into the middle of a battle was a good idea?” his voice rose slightly at the end, betraying the effort he was going to to keep his emotions in check. 

Cordelia could find no words to answer him at first, the confirmation of his disappointment in her too heavy to bear.  Her bottom lip quivered as treacherous tears fell, dropping soundlessly onto Optimus’ metallic palm.  She worked hard to control her breathing, not wanting it to run away from her. 

God, at least let me keep control over one damned thing!

“Cordelia?” he pressed her gently, evidently not taking the silent treatment for an answer. 

She took a deep breath, trying to arrange her thoughts into something legible so that she could understand them, not at least to convey them to Optimus. 

“I…I thought Hannah was in trouble, so I went looking for her.  I snuck out of the shelter, and I went to her barracks.  She was there and she said that the emergency shelter had been attacked and that her dad had said to go to the command centre.  I didn’t see any reason as to why it wouldn’t be true…there was nothing.”  More tears fell, punctuating her answer with the sad burden of Optimus’ evident frustration. 

“Cordelia, the base is filled with experienced and trained personnel who would have located Hannah if she was in any sort of trouble.  It is not your job to go looking for people who might be in danger!  Do you realise what could have happened today?” 

A sudden flame of anger ignited within her, burning through any shame she had previously felt. 

“Of course I realise what could have happened!” she hissed, taken aback by the venom in her own voice, but it was not enough to stop her.  “Don’t you think I know what could happen every single, solitary day?!  A Decepticon could drop a rocket on my head, a new liaison could order me away or put me into federal custody at any moment because of my connection to all of this!” she threw her hands up into the air, her anger snowballing.

“I have to watch you throw yourself into danger nearly every other day, not knowing if you’re going to come back!  So yeah, even if I am on a base with ‘experienced and trained personnel’, I will get involved if I think it is going to make a difference to a friend of mine!” 

Optimus showed no outward signs of responding to her outburst, his face infuriatingly calm. 

“Cordelia, when I adopted you three years ago, I took on a responsibility for your safety and well-being.”  He paused, letting his words hang in the air between them.  She felt the solemnity of his words in the deep cadence of his sonorous baritone. 

She said nothing in response, motioning with a small nod of her head for him to continue. 

“You are not yet eighteen, and as such, I have a legal, moral and ethical responsibility to you.  That includes but is not limited to your physical, mental and emotional health.  That was an oath I made to you and an oath I intend to keep until you send me away or I am no longer physically capable of doing so. 

“You are a choice that I make every single day, Cordelia.  I make this choice partly out of a sense of duty, but above all, because I love you, so so much.  And by law, you are my responsibility.” 

Despite the outpouring of love she felt coming from him, her temper flared again, pushed over the edge by his leaning on legalities to enforce his protectiveness.  Blood filled her cheeks as her heart rate soared, fuelling the fire that had already been stoked deep within her belly. 

“For god’s sake Optimus!!” she shouted, her voice full of indignant anger.  “I am not one of your soldiers!” 

He held her in his steady gaze, nothing but pure love emanating from his optics.  He was silent for a short time, the only sound between them her panting breaths as she tried to regain some sense of control over her wayward emotions. 

“Exactly.”  He said softly, a quiet reverence present in his gentle tone.  “You are my daughter, and infinitely more precious than a mere soldier.” 

His words pulled her up short, her anger extinguished as suddenly as it had been ignited.  She struggled to process his words, understanding the meaning behind them but not fully taking them in.  She had spent so much of her life hiding from pain and terror that accepting love, even though she had been with Optimus for three years now, still did not come naturally to her.

“You are my daughter, Cordelia,” he repeated, bringing her closer to his face.  “And because of that, I will do everything in my power to protect you.” 

Those words broke through the last of Cordelia’s feeble defences, and she crumbled into a heap on his palm, quiet sobs erupting out of her, as raw and unstoppable as a broken dam. 

“Optimus, what can I give you in return?  You are everything I’m not!  You are selfless, loyal, brave and the kindest soul I have ever met!  I can’t hold a candle to you.  I don’t know why you chose me, because you chose wrong.  You should have just let me fall and saved yourself all of this regret!” 

Her head dropped to her chest again, heavy with the weight of shame that had abruptly resurfaced. 

She felt the cool metal of his fingertip underneath her chin, tilting her face upwards to meet his gaze. 

“I must respectfully disagree with you, my little one.  I chose you because I love you.  I protect you because I love you.  More than you can possibly comprehend.  And as for what you give me in return; you give it to me every day.  You give it to me with the beat of your heart, with your infectious smile.  With the faith and trust you choose to place in me, day after day.” 

He dipped his head forward so that they were leaning forehead to forehead, despite their size difference.  She could feel the subtle vibrations of his inner workings and the deliciously cool sensation of his metal skin against her own flushed face helped her to ground herself. 

“And most of all, you have awarded me with the intimate trust of someone who I can simply be ‘Optimus’ with, as opposed to ‘Optimus Prime.’  You have shown me a part of myself I had long thought dead; the Optimus who remembers without regret.  The Optimus who leads without shame.  The Optimus who hopes for the future that we can build together.  Cordelia – there is no greater gift to be given among Sparks than that of hope – for hope can light even the darkest hour.  And where there is life, there is always, always hope.  I do not, for one, single astro-second regret saving you, and I never will.” 

He pulled back from her slightly, only to press his metallic lip plates tenderly to her forehead and press a paternal kiss there, one that spoke of the reverence and love which he held in such abundance for her. 

She looked up at him tearfully, wiping her eyes with the back of her right hand.  “I’m sorry Optimus, I didn’t mean to get angry with you.  Thank you…for always being there for me.  It means more to me than I know how to say.” 

He held her close, bringing his free hand up to support the one he held her in.  “Oh my little one.  You never need thank me.  Losing you is simply not an option.  It is something that I absolutely cannot allow to happen.  Not now or at any point in the future.” 

She allowed herself to be wrapped in the safety of his love, content just to enjoy the moment in the here and now with him, her heart happy in the knowledge that she was perfectly safe with the Autobot leader who had given her everything she had long thought lost to her. 

[manasastuff-blog]

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[townpostin]

Jamshedpur Student Secures Coveted RIMC Admission

Vedanta Sharma clinches sole Jharkhand seat at prestigious military college Kavyapta Global School student Vedanta Sharma gains admission to the elite Rashtriya Indian Military College in Dehradun. JAMSHEDPUR – Vedanta Sharma, a student from Kavyapta Global School in Jamshedpur, has secured admission to the prestigious Rashtriya Indian Military College (RIMC) in Dehradun. Sharma, son of Snigdha…

[abdullahbroshairif]

New England college-aged brothers Daxton and Brandon White were -art tomb a little too much. Their dad always joked, when they misbehaved, “I’m gonna sell you to the Sheik.” And , throughout their lives, the boys always laughed at that. As IF their dad could, or would, sell them off to live with a Middle Eastern royal. Well, Dax and Bran’s first semester grades were pitiful. Seemed like the brothers couldn’t stop partying enough to make their way to class and went to the gym every day instead.

Bill White had done some work overseas, as a military contractor. And Bill was beginning to think his sons needed a lesson of perspective. So Bill, early on, before he was even married, found himself rubbing (hairy) elbows with the Arab elite, back in the Gulf War days. In fact, Bill had spent time with Sheik Qadar. Sheik Qadar had even come into possession of an ancient changing stone.

One day the boys got picked up from the gym by their dad’s companies’ “fixer,” Mr. Nadir. Nadir took the boys to the airport and shipped them off, first to the city Bursa, Turkey, where they lived each day as a new hairy Arab. Then they were taken overseas to the Caribbean to wake up daily as black man who lives their lives as online influencers personal training the wealthy arabic vacationers. Next, the boys were shipped of the UAE where they did the same, learning arabic with their thick Eastern Caribbean accents. Gosh, it was getting difficult for them to remember English after becoming so used to speaking Arabic. Lastly, they were sent to India where Daxton and Brandon completely forgot being white Americans, but were able to remember their lives as Caribbeans and Arabs.

Dakaar and Brishaan now are being picked up by a man they’ve never met, Mr. nadir, to be taken back to America. Oh, so sad how the boys were crying and scared, not wanting to leave their homeland of India. Dakaar soothes his younger brother and tells him, in Hindu “we’ll be okay, brother. We must obey this new life with our new master in America”

The trick is on Bill, who assumed his sons would eventually regain their life as his white American sons… three years later the Indian brothers are just as unable to attend school, since they only English they now know are the names of the machines in the gym and the only counting they can do is May decidable by the numbers on the side of weight plates and dumbbells. Bill is doing his best, though, to teach his boys English. They get tutored by handsome blonde university men every day.

💚💚💚

[khush-chronicles]

A brief history of Bangladesh and why it is relevant to the current situation

The Indian subcontinent liberated itself from the British in 1947. Two new countries were born, India and Pakistan. The Bangladesh we know today was a part of Pakistan.

In 1952, the students of Dhaka University, along with my other, marched on the streets, protesting that "Urdu"-the national language of Pakistan- would not be the national language of East Pakistan, now known as Bangladesh.

The reason behind this was that 52% of the people in the entire Pakistan spoke Bangla. There was no logic behind declaring Urdu as the national language of Pakistan as a whole. Much like India, there was no need to have a national language.

Students marched on 21st February, ignoring the red alerts. 7 students were martyred, shot by the police. But we protected our mother tongue, we established our rights, and their bloodshed was worth it.

Now, why is it relevant now? Because the history is repeating itself. Only Bangladesh's own government is playing the role of the autocratic Pakistani government. Worse, our prime minister is the daughter of the man who was the prime force behind the liberation of our country.

Bangladesh is the only country in the world that has 256 kinds of quotas reserved for various kinds of people. Even 10% for women. All are applicable at various levels, starting from primary school admissions to government jobs. 56% are reserved for quota holders altogether. 44% are for normal people.

Now, if it had been the other way around, no one would've been that angry. Bangladesh is a country of 200 million people. let's just say 1/4th of them are students. 50 million. The population of quota holders is 200 thousand. Is it not laughable? The 200 thousand students have the right to study, and get jobs and the remaining 49+ million have to fight for 44%? What kind of joke is this?

See the similarities? Trying to give everything to the minority?

The quota most applicable is the "freedom fighter" quota. The people who fought during the liberation war in 1971. Utmost respect and love towards them. But why should their grandchildren benefit from their participation? What is the guarantee that these grandchildren won't harm the country, the same country that was liberated by their grandparents' blood?

The freedom fighters who are still alive, they are ashamed. The population during the war was 70 million. 3 million were martyred. But more than half of the population fought, and the women gave shelter, food, and help in any way they could. Not every one of them collected their certificates. Most of them were illiterate, they didn't even know what a certificate was. And those who knew but didn't collect, and are alive, are saying that they didn't fight so their grandchildren could take advantage, they fought to save the country, they didn't fight for glory.

Our Prime Minister fled the country during the war. There are no records of her brothers fighting in the war either. Her father gave speeches in his white clothes but never picked up a rock to throw.

That aside, now students from almost every university in Bangladesh are protesting against the quota system. So many students cannot be wrong. And the government cannot again be right. It's the minority vs majority all over again.

Another uncanny similarity, 7 were martyred today. 16th July 2024, 7 were given their lives again, for the right study and do jobs and serve their country. What a downfall it is when our friends, seniors, and juniors are giving their lives, just for such simple rights. Where is democracy? Where is liberation? Is this what our grandfathers fought the war for?

The situation is worsening every hour. On 25th March 1971, Pakistani military forces raided homes. Not universities, not halls, HOMES. Of the general public. This was called "Operation Searchlight". No electricity, no light, no warning. Only breaking into homes and massacring men, women, children, and old, children without discrimination or thoughts. Again, something similar is happening.

There is this group called "Student League", they are students of various universities as well, but they are basically bootlickers of the prime minister. They follow whatever she says without any sense of morals.

The minister for education paid them to attack students in halls- confessed by a member of the Student League.

They entered the halls, and hospitals, beat up injured students, locked the hall rooms, and harassed the female students. The video clips that were shared, the screams of the girls, the way they were saying "Brothers save us", it's giving me goosebumps while I am typing it.

They stabbed many students who were returning home. They beat up many many girls who were silently standing by the roads. They harassed the general public.

Both sides are students. Only their teachings are different.

What's about to happen? How many more are dying? The internet connection is off. We can only access through VPN and Wifi. There is a red alert around the areas where most universities are situated. They are cutting off electricity where the protests happened and raiding houses. Again, the similarities. They are checking the homes of the general public if they are housing student protestors. If yes, the students are being dragged out on the roads. Where is freedom?

There is much more happening, which I am not even writing about right now. Much more to come.

Is this what Liberation is? Then I do not want it. If this is what freedom is, I would rather be in a cage.

My account isn't very big, but I am still posting about it. If yours is or if your friends' is, if you come across this post, spread it. Let the world know what an autocrat that woman is. What a tyrant she is.

PS: About a month ago Bangladesh was deemed "The most Peaceful Country in Asia" which is a blatant joke.

I have never been so ashamed and proud of my country at the same time.

[whencyclopedia]

George Armstrong Custer

George Armstrong Custer (l. 1839-1876) was an officer in the US Army, serving in the cavalry from 1861 to 1865 during the American Civil War and the wars against the Plains Indians 1866-1876. Although he became a widely recognized hero during the Civil War, he is best remembered for his death at the Battle of the Little Bighorn.

Custer established a reputation for recklessness, courage, and self-promotion early in the Civil War and, by 1863, after the Battle of Gettysburg, was a national hero. He blocked the retreat of General Robert E. Lee (l. 1807-1870) in April 1865 and was present at Appomattox Court House when Lee surrendered to General Ulysses S. Grant (l. 1822-1885). After the war, he oversaw Reconstruction in Texas before taking command of the newly formed 7th Cavalry in campaigns against the Native Americans of the West.

He led his troops against the Cheyenne people at the Washita Massacre/Battle of the Washita River in November 1868 and, ignoring the terms of the Treaty of Fort Laramie of 1868, marched his troops into the Black Hills in 1874 where he discovered gold. News of this discovery soon brought more settlers and miners into Sioux and Cheyenne territory, igniting the Great Sioux War of 1876-1877. At the Battle of the Little Bighorn (25-26 June 1876) Custer and his men were slaughtered by Arapaho, Cheyenne, and Sioux warriors under chief Sitting Bull (l. c. 1837-1890). Afterwards, thanks in large part to the efforts of his wife, Elizabeth Bacon "Libbie" Custer (l. 1842-1933), George Armstrong Custer came to be regarded as a great American hero.

His legacy and reputation held until shortly before the Second World War (1939-45) when scholars began challenging the traditional narrative. Today, Custer is a controversial figure, often condemned for his brutality and ruthlessness. Although Custer should certainly be held accountable for his actions, it must also be recognized that he was primarily advancing the genocidal policies of his government which saw the American Indian as an obstacle to progress, civilization, and Manifest Destiny.

Early Years & West Point

George Armstrong Custer was born on 5 December 1839 in New Rumley, Ohio, to Emanuel Henry Custer, a blacksmith, and his second wife, Marie Ward Kirkpatrick. He was named after a minister as his mother hoped this would encourage him to follow that path. He had three older half-siblings from his mother's first marriage and four full siblings, including Thomas and Boston, who would also join the military and die with him in battle.

He was sent to live with his older half-sister and her family in Monroe, Michigan, to attend school and met the girl who would one day become his wife, Elizabeth Clift Bacon. After graduating, he moved to Hopedale, Ohio, and enrolled at the Hopedale Normal College, pursuing a teaching degree. He began his teaching career in Cadiz, Ohio, in 1856 and boarded at the home of the Holland family, where he fell in love with the daughter, Mary Jane Holland. He hoped to marry her but found little opportunity for advancement in Ohio, so he decided to change careers and apply to West Point Military Academy. Scholar Nathaniel Philbrick comments:

He'd been a seventeen-year-old schoolteacher back in Ohio when he applied to his local congressman for an appointment to West Point. Since Custer was a Democrat and the congressman was a Republican, his chances seemed slim at best. However, Custer had fallen in love with a local girl, whose father, hoping to get Custer as far away from his daughter as possible, appears to have done everything he could to persuade the congressman to send the schoolteacher with a roving eye to West Point.

(47)

Custer entered West Point in July 1857 and, before the end of his first session, had earned 27 demerits. By graduation, he had been given more demerits than any of the other cadets in his class. After graduation in June 1861, he faced court martial for failing to break up a fight between cadets but was only reprimanded as the American Civil War was already underway. Many of Custer's classmates had left to fight for the Confederacy and the Union forces were in dire need of trained officers. Custer was commissioned a second lieutenant and sent to drill volunteers in Washington, D.C.

Continue reading...

[homoquartz]

"merciless Indian Savages"

Do not forget that the United States seceded from Britain largely because they wanted to continue their genocidal colonial project unchecked.

Britain was a major roadblock to westward expansion, frustrating the wealthy who had already "bought" land in the west, and the poor who believed they had a right to land ownership.

There was no desire or expectation of a peaceful settlement. The explicitly stated method of expansion was genocide. The goal of eliminating the Native peoples of the Americas is written in the Declaration of Independence. Here it is amongst their list of complaints regarding what the King had done or was not allowing them to do:

The intent of the American government to destroy all Native Americans is well-documented.

Bounties were placed for Native scalps, priced by age and gender, from elders to children. The government paid sharpshooters to ride rails and eliminate the bison herds to create a famine and starve Natives to death. There is strong evidence to suggest disease was purposely spread. Boarding schools were established to kidnap Native children, brainwash them and kill them, and ultimately breed them out of existence. Reservations (concentration camps) were established in hostile territories of other nations, on small parcels of land lacking any resources including food and water, with the intent for the Native people there to die. Supply shipments to these places were often intentionally "lost," stolen, or damaged. US military was deployed on sleeping civilians, including families. Up to HALF of Native American women were forcibly sterilized by the government in the 1900s.

Fuck the 4th of July. 🇺🇸

Here is a reading list:

Colonial Genocide in Indigenous North America, Woolford Benevenuto and Hinton

American Indian Holocaust and Survival, Markus and Moya

American Holocaust, Stannard

Termination and Relocation, Fixico

A Little Matter of Genocide, Ward Churchill