#schools with transportation facility | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

batboyblog · 5 months ago

Text

Things the Biden-Harris Administration Did This Week #39

October 18-25 2024.

President Biden issued the first presidential apology on behalf of the federal government to America's Native American population for the Indian boarding school policy. For 150 years the federal government operated a system of schools which aimed to destroy Native culture through the forced assimilation of native children. At these schools students faced physical, emotional, and sexual abuse, and close to 1,000 died. The Biden-Harris Administration has been historic for Native and Tribal rights. From the appointment of the first ever Native American cabinet member, Secretary of the Interior Deb Haaland, to the investment of $46 billion dollars on tribal land, to 200 new co-stewardship agreements. The last 4 years have seen a historic investment in and expansion of tribal rights.

The Biden-Harris Administration proposed a new rule which would make contraceptive medication (the pill) free over the counter with most Insurance. The new rule would ban cost sharing for contraception products, including the pill, condoms, and emergency contraception. On top of over the counter medications, the new rule will also strength protections for prescribed contraception without cost sharing as well.

The EPA announced its finalized rule strengthening standards for lead paint dust in pre-1978 housing and child care facilities. There is no safe level of exposure to lead particularly for children who can suffer long term developmental consequences from lead exposure. The new standards set the lowest level of lead particle that can be identified by a lab as the standard for lead abatement. It's estimated 31 million homes built before the ban on lead paint in 1978 have lead paint and 3.8 million of those have one or more children under the age of 6. The new rule will mean 1.2 million fewer people, including over 300,000 children will not be exposed to lead particles every year. This comes after the Biden-Harris Administration announced its goal to remove and replace all lead pipes in America by the end of the decade.

The Department of Transportation announced a $50 million dollar fine against American Airlines for its treatment of disabled passengers and their wheelchairs. The fine stems from a number of incidences of humiliating and unfair treatment of passages between 2019 and 2023, as well as video documented evidence of mishandling wheelchairs and damaging them. Half the fine will go to replacing such damaged wheelchairs. The Biden administration has leveled a historic number of fines against the airlines ($225 million) for their failures. It also published a Airline Passengers with Disabilities Bill of Rights, passed a new rule accessible lavatories on aircraft, and is working on a rule to require airlines to replace lost or damaged wheelchairs with equal equipment at once.

The Department of Energy announced $430 million dollars to help boost domestic clean energy manufacturing in former coal communities. This invests in projects in 15 different communities, in places like Texas, West Virginia, Pennsylvania, Tennessee, Kentucky, and Michigan. The plan will bring about 1,900 new jobs in communities struggling with the loss of coal. Projects include making insulation out of recycled cardboard, low carbon cement production, and industrial fiber hemp processing.

The Department of Transportation announced $4.2 billion in new infrastructure investment. The money will go to 44 projects across the country. For example the MBTA will get $400 million to replace the 92 year old Draw 1 bridge and renovate North Station.

The Department of Transportation announced nearly $200 million to replace aging natural gas pipes. Leaking gas lines represent a serious public health risk and also cost costumers. Planned replacements in Georgia and North Carolina for example will save the average costumer there over $900 on their gas bill a year. Replacing leaking lines will also remove 1,000 metric tons of methane pollution, annually.

The Department of the Interior announced $244 million to address legacy pollution in Pennsylvania coal country. This comes on top of $400 million invested earlier this year. This investment will help close dangerous mine shafts, reclaim unstable slopes, improve water quality by treating acid mine drainage, and restore water supplies damaged by mining.

Data shows that President Biden's Inflation Reduction Act (passed with Vice-President Harris' tie breaking vote) has saved seniors $1 billion dollars on out-of-pocket drug costs. Seniors with certain high priced drugs saw their yearly out of pocket costs capped at $3,500 for 2024. In 2024 all seniors using Medicare Part D will see their out of pocket costs capped at $2,000 for the year. It's estimated if the $2,000 cap had been in effect this year 4.6 million seniors would have hit it by June and not have had to pay any more for medication for the rest of the year.

The Department of Education announced a new proposed rule to bring student debt relief for 8 million struggling borrowers. The Biden-Harris Administration has managed despite road blocks from Republicans in Congress, the courts and law suits from Republican states to bring student loan forgiveness to 5 million Americans so far through different programs. This latest rule would take into account many financial hardships faced by people to determine if they qualify to have their student loans forgiven. The final rule cannot be finalized before 2025 meaning its fate will be decided at the election.

The Department of Agriculture announced $1.5 billion in 92 partner-driven conservation projects. These projects aim at making farming more susceptible and environmental friendly, 16 projects are about water conservation in the West, 6 support use of innovative technologies to reduce enteric methane emissions in livestock. $100 million has been earmarked for Tribal-led projects.

#Thanks Biden #Joe Biden #Kamala Harris #politics #US politics #American politics #Native Americans #indigenous rights #lead paint #reproductive rights #reproductive health #lead poisoning #disability #infastructure #climate change #drug prices

6K notes · View notes

afeelgoodblog · 1 year ago

Text

The Best News of Last Month

Sorry for being not active this month as I had some health problems. I'll start posting weekly now :) Meanwhile here's some good from last month

1. Widow donates $1 billion to medical school, giving free tuition forever

Ruth Gottesman surprised by her late husband's $1 billion in Berkshire stock, decides to donate it in full to the Albert Einstein College of Medicine in the Bronx, New York City's poorest borough. The donation is intended to cover students' tuition indefinitely, ensuring access to medical education for generations.

A video capturing students' emotional reactions to the news, cheering and crying, circulated after the announcement, highlighting the profound impact of the donation on the medical school community.

2. Electric school buses outperform diesel in extreme cold

In Colorado's West Grand School District, electric school buses outperformed their diesel counterparts, particularly in the bitterly cold temperatures of towns like Kremmling, where morning temperatures can drop below -30 degrees Fahrenheit. Despite common concerns about reduced range in extreme weather, the electric buses maintained their battery charge even in these frigid conditions, providing reliable transportation for students.

This success has been welcomed by the school district, as diesel vehicles also face challenges in starting in Colorado's harsh winter weather.

3. Christian Bale unveils plans to build 12 foster homes in California

Christian Bale has led a tour round the new village in California where he plans to build 12 foster homes, as well as two studio flats to help children transition into independent living, and a 7,000 sq ft community centre.

The actor has spearheaded the building of a unique complex of facilities with the aim of keeping siblings in the foster care system together, and ideally under the same roof.

4. Average lifespan of a person with Down syndrome has increased from 25 years in 1983 to 60 years today

Today the average lifespan of a person with Down syndrome is approximately 60 years.

As recently as 1983, the average lifespan of a person with Down syndrome was 25 years. The dramatic increase to 60 years is largely due to the end of the inhumane practice of institutionalizing people with Down syndrome.

5. Greece legalises same-sex marriage

Greece has become the first Christian Orthodox-majority country to legalise same-sex marriage. Same-sex couples will now also be legally allowed to adopt children after Thursday's 176-76 vote in parliament.

Prime Minister Kyriakos Mitsotakis said the new law would "boldly abolish a serious inequality".

6. Massachusetts police K9 tracks scent for over 2 miles to find missing 12-year-old in freezing cold

A Massachusetts police K9 followed her nose to help find a 12-year-old who went missing in frigid temperatures last week, tracking the child’s scent for over two miles, authorities said.

K9 Biza, a female German shepherd, was called on to help after officers learned the child left their home at around 10:30 p.m. Wednesday and was last seen in the Pakachoag Hill area of Auburn, the Auburn Police Department said.

7. Good News for the Socially Anxious: People Like You a Lot More Than You Think They Do, New Research Confirms

The "Lake Wobegon effect" or "illusory superiority" phenomenon highlights people's tendency to overestimate their abilities, but recent research suggests that in social interactions, individuals often underestimate their likability and charm.

Studies indicate that people consistently fail to recognize signals of others' liking toward them, leading to a "liking gap" where individuals believe they are less likable than they actually are.

Techniques such as focusing more on others during conversations and genuinely expressing interest in them can help alleviate social anxiety by shifting the focus away from self-criticism. Ultimately, understanding that others may also experience similar anxieties can lead to a more relaxed and enjoyable social experience.

---

That's it for this week :)

This newsletter will always be free. If you liked this post you can support me with a small kofi donation here:

Buy me a coffee ❤️

Also don’t forget to reblog this post with your friends.

#best news of last week

3K notes · View notes

fawnsuga · 9 days ago

Text

Eric Veik: "Finishing the Job"

Erik Veik, depicted below, was a friend of Eric Harris during their high school years. He was an active member of the video production club and collaborated with Eric on numerous projects. Veik contributed to productions such as "Hitmen for Hire" and "CHS Highway Patrol" and was responsible for filming the "Eric in Columbine" video. At the time, Veik was a junior during Eric's senior year in 1999. A video of him speaking to the media the day after the attack can be viewed here.

In October 1999, six months following the attacks, Veik was arrested for making threats against Columbine High School, expressing intentions to "finish the job." He was held on a $500,000 bond and subsequently sent to a youth facility due to his age of 17 at the time. Reports from other students at CHS indicated that while he presented a somber demeanor in front of adults, he would laugh about the shooting when in the company of friends. A brief clip discussing this can be seen here.

It has been suggested that Veik harbored strong feelings for Eric and admired him greatly. Another student from Columbine noted that while she believed Eric viewed Veik as a friend, he "used him" for transportation and assistance with various tasks.

195 notes · View notes

novemberheart · 8 months ago

Text

Chapter 2 <- Chapter 3 -> Chapter 4

{Overview} An interaction between Kyle and Johnny opens your eyes to your roommates.

{warnings} Soapgaz!!!!! Depictions or break ins and uncomfortable situations, reader being harassed, no s/a but intimidation and stalking written

You’ve always had a hard time finding your way in life. It felt as though everyone around you just gets up everyday and knows exactly what they are going to do- what they are going to accomplish. Take your work life for example. You’ve done just about every job in the book. You’ve been a barista, you went to fashion school (for a month). You’ve been a dog walker, a nanny, a personal shopper, person stylist, you even worked at a campsite. After facing pressure from your family you finally decided to go back to school and ended up getting a degree in psychology. You completed about seven months of your supervised training before you felt like you made a mistake.

Your mentors were decent, but you always felt like they could tell you were a dropout. They offered you little support- likely knowing it would be a waste.

Lucky for you, you have an Aunt Kate. Whilst she never understood your inability to settle she supported you nonetheless. So when she heard the veterans facility down the road needed a new art therapist, who else was she to think of?

They didn’t care that you lacked some much needed and required experience. You weren’t particularly crafty, but you were a quick learner. You were hired nearly on the spot (which could be perceived as a red flag) and you quickly hopped on a plane to England(or drove).

Your first day you realized why it had been so challenging for them to fill the spot. They were insufferable. Grumpy, angry and entitled. It was like that for weeks. They would never do any activities you set up, just lash out and complain. Then one day you lost it. You yelled at them. A room filled to the hilt of 20+ veterans who stared at you, a young woman, with their eyes like saucers.

You quickly became their favorite after that.

For the first time ever you found your niche. The last thing you wanted to do was loose it. But problems arose at home. The first break in was “your” fault. You had burned some popcorn and had left the window open, forgetting about it as you popped over to the store. When you came back your microwave, TV and charging cables were gone. You couldn’t sleep for weeks after that. Every little sound caused you to fly straight up in your bed. You slept with the lights on and barricaded your door every night. You hid it from Kate and your family- not wanting to worry them. You had finally began to feel safe again and Kate invited you on a weekend away in the countryside to celebrate a pay raise for her and two months at a job for you. When you came back your door was ajar.

This time Kate was with you. You were thankful for that. Nothing was missing, but your apartment had been turned upside down. Rotted food from the fridge being left open. They had smashed all your lamps and lightbulbs. Your bed had been flipped, your sheets shredded. They had also flooded your toilet with tissue paper. It felt hateful. You had no idea if it was the same people as before or maybe your apartment was just a target now.

The outside world started to turn against you too. You never minded taking public transportation, until people seemed to recognize your pattern. One night a man who had always sat rows in front of you decided to sit right next to you, sandwiching you between the window. While his hands never touched you, he slowly scooted closer and closer and closer. You were tired of feeling helpless. You stood up and screamed. As loud of you could. It was effective. The man tumbled away from you as fast as he could and you never saw him again. You filed a report with the police- well you told them about it but who knows if it actually went anywhere.

A few days later you were followed. You had gotten on the train that morning and noticed a hooded figure that you hadn’t seen before. Just the sight of it put knots in your stomach. You made it into work and had forgotten about it, until the next morning.

You called the police later, not that you could give much of a description. You stayed with Kate in a hotel that night, spilling your guts. She remained tight lipped, trying not to scare you. She felt sick. She had always been so protective of those she loved and she felt as though she had failed.

“I might know a place you could stay. Until you get enough cash for a down payment.”

You quickly shot down the idea.

Until the third break in. It happened at night. Interestingly enough on a night you felt comfortable. It was early in the AM when the creak of the window hinges woke you up. You didn’t even need to see what was going on before you started screaming. It had become a defense mechanism now. It had worked for you before, why not now? You sprung out of bed and grabbed the bear spray that laid next to you, charging out into the living room. You refused to go down without a fight. Two large figures had just crossed the threshold and you quickly made yourself known. You grabbed the crowbar next to the bedroom door and started swinging- all while spraying bear spray and screaming. It was like something out of the exorcist, but you didn’t care. This could be life or death. One of them reached for you, but was quickly pulled away by their friend, scrambling back out the window. You didn’t stop til they disappeared down the street.

You didn’t need to call the police this time. About six of your neighbors did it for you.

You had no other options. Everything was out of your price range and you were still a paying off student loans. The few places that were available were too far away from your beloved job or in just as bad areas as the one you were in now.

You called Kate with a hoarse voice begging her for help. She didn’t hesitate.

“How’d you sleep?” John asked, just as you passed the threshold of the kitchen.

“Good, thank you.” You chirped, beginning to stuff some snacks into your bag for work. “Got most of my unpacking done, not that there’s a lot.” You sighed.

“That reminds me, we each have our days for laundry. Does Wednesday or Friday work for you?” Your lips quirked out how well organized they were. You could easily imagine how they ran at work. “Honey?” He added, shaking you out of your thoughts.

“Wednesday. Wednesday works.” You smiled. He nodded his head in affirmation going back to his bowl of cereal. “I didn’t take you to be a cereal for breakfast type of guy. You seem more like bacon and eggs.”

He chuckled, tapping the box of cinnamon flavored cereal. “Guilty pleasure. Breakfast number two comes in around nine.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, filling up your water bottle. “See you later?” You questioned. He nodded his head quickly, a raspy ‘have a good day’ escaping him.

“Sooooooo Bon. You never quite explained to us what you do?” Johnny hummed.

“Let her get in the door, Johnny. Christsakes.” Simon huffed from the couch. You slipped off your shoes placing them neatly next to a pair of work boots. Johnny felt his chest tighten at the sight. He was half tempted to race upstairs and grab his sketchbook. Your prim and proper shoes next to their beat up death boots. Just looked right.

“I’m an art therapist at the veterans center.” You replied. He pulled himself out of his head, an even wider grin spreading across his face.

“That’s sick, Bon.” He followed you to the kitchen, where you began unloading your takeout. You still didn’t know what time they cooked dinner and you didn’t want to be in their way.

“Glad you think so. I really love it, well at the beginning I hated it.” You admitted.

“Forks are in the drawer next to the fridge.” Simon said, standing up from the couch. He made his way towards the kitchen grabbing a protein bar from the pantry.

“Thank you.” You dug one out of the (of course) neatly put together drawer.

“You hated it?” Johnny pressed, sitting down at one of the stools.

“Yeah, they were so mean to me. They would seriously tell me to “fuck off.”” You gawked. Simon snorted. Your eyes glanced up to meet his, before settling on Johnnys wide eyes.

“Way to represent.” The Scot muttered. You giggled, waving a hand in dismissal.

“That was just the older class. Most of them are seventy five and up. They have no patience for anything.” You snickered. “They like me now though.”

“How’d you manage that.” Simon interjected.

“I yelled at them. You all respond very well to negative reinforcement.” You hummed.

“What about your other groups?” Johnny asked. “What are they like?”

“Well they switch out of lot. Most of my other groups are soldiers who are required to take the class, as a ‘rehabilitation’ of sorts. We mostly just try to focus on healthy coping and self regulation methods. The art is just a distraction to get down to how they really feel.” You explained, beginning to dig into your spaghetti.

The men before you softened, sharing a quick glance with each other when you weren’t looking.

“Can I take the class?” Johnny asked suddenly. Your head shot up. Your first reaction was to tell him no. You didn’t want any judgment. Then you realized how unethical it was to deny someone.

“Of course.” You scrambled. “Although I recommend you come to the old timers club that meets every Tuesday and Thursday, eight am. They love talking to people in active duty.”

A sweet smile spread across Johnny’s features as he tapped his hand against the counter.

“It’s a date then.”

You fought hard against the blush and lost.

After you finished your spaghetti you worked your way upstairs. You were at the top of them when the front door opened. You dodged out of sight, but stayed close enough so you could peak down. Kyle and John were just getting home, both wearing workout clothes. You could hear someone bounding through the house and watched as Kyle steady himself, bracing for impact. Your eyebrows nestled together, waiting. Finally, Johnny came into view, throwing himself at Kyle. You smile grin spread on your face at the affection, but quickly turned into one of shock as Johnny opened his mouth, licking from Kyle’s neck up to his cheek.

“Shove off.” Kyle gagged, wiping at his face with his own grin. “Disgusting.” He grumbled, still trying to work out of Johnny’s grasp.

“I just love you.” You faintly heard Johnny murmur. He began peppering kisses on any skin he could reach and you watched as Kyle’s muscles relax.

“Not in the hallway you two.” John spoke up, patting both men. They whined- both for different reasons, stumbling into the living room still connected. John followed after them but not before his eyes darted up the stairs. He must’ve felt eyes on them. You dodged out of the way as quickly as possible, holding your breath. You stayed still for a moment before tiptoeing to your room.

As you laid in bed you wondered how you didn’t connect the dots sooner. All the things you witnessed but didn’t think twice about. The soft glances, how they always seemed to have a hand on each other. You wanted to know the dynamics.

How did this start? Whose idea was it? Do they all fuck each other or is it just a one on one situation? Maybe the room arrangements were the answer. Based off of that it would be Kyle with Johnny and John with Simon. But John and Simon were affectionate with the other two as well.

Your mind wandered through the late hours of night. Your mind growing more and more exhausted. You could almost imagine it. Them together. Tangled together, their muscled bodies rippling from pleasure and exertion.

You assumed John would be in charge. You could imagine him making sure everyone was getting the attention they deserved. Or maybe he would want to take the back seat for once. Who would step up then? You want to say Simon just based off of his demeanor, but you think Kyle would be good in that position. He is calm, gentle, but has underlying passion in everything he does. You could also picture Johnny running the show in his own way. Or maybe you were making this kinkier than it was. Maybe it was a mutual give and take? That’s how they seemed to be. Everything from their style to personalities blended seamlessly together.

You ignored the tightening in your stomach and rolled over pressing yourself further in your cozy bed.

“Sorry about last night.” Your head perked up from your laptop, to stare at John. You stared at him expectantly, before realizing what he was talking about. So you weren’t as slick as you thought you were.

“Please don’t apologize. This is your house.” You insisted, waving him off gently. He looked a bit relieved, as he sat down from across from you, his own laptop in his hands.

“Johnny likes to make a show.” He explained, a quirk in his lips. So Johnny knew you were there? Of course they did. These were men who had years of training under their belt. To think you were being sneaky.

“Well I should be the one apologizing. Creeping around like that.” You huffed in apologies. He chuckled, softly shaking his head in disagreement.

“Not to worry, Honey.” He assured, opening up his laptop.

“If you want another show I’ll be happy to provide.” You jumped as Johnny snuck around the corner. You could feel your ears begin to burn and the only thing you could think to do was giggle. John shot him a stern look, but Johnny paid little mind. He plopped down next to John spreading out various sketchbook and opening a silver tin filled with different sizes of charcoal.

“You get that all over the table again Simon’ll get you.” John warned.

“He’ll have to catch me first.” He hummed without a worry. All of you worked in a comfortable silence. John typed away on his computer, drifting away every so often to grab a new stack of papers to work on. Johnny was zeroed in and you doubted a tornado could break his concentration. His eyebrows furrowed and eyes squinted as he leaned over the table. His hands were blotched with black marks, and his tongue poked out of the very corner of his mouth. Your finger itched to rub the creases out of his brows and crows feet.

Suddenly his eyes glanced over to you, causing you to quickly shift back to your computer. You waited for him to call you out but it never came. Instead when you peaked at him over your computer he flashed you a smirk, his eyes swirling with mischief.

“Would you like to join us for dinner, Honey?” John asked, breaking your stare down with Johnny.

“Oh that’s okay. I don’t want to intrude.” You said a slight grimace on your face. The two men looked slightly offended.

“It’s Tuesday, Bonnie. It’s pizza night.” Johnny whispered like it was a secret. John nodded his head.

“We’re going to eat out back again. It’s a nice night out and we have all the ingredients.” John coerced. Your teeth sunk into your lip, your stomach twisting in hunger.

“If it’s no trouble.” You pressed. The last thing you wanted was to become a burden.

“It’s only trouble if you like pineapple on it, Bon.”

Hi friends! Hope you liked this chapter. (sorry it took so long to get up!) This was more reader based and kinda boring but it’s a necessary evil! See you next time! 🥰

#novemberheart #captain john price #gaz x reader #ghost x reader #kyle gaz garrick #poly141 #price x reader #simon ghost riley #soap x reader #johnny soap mactavish #simon ghost riley x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #captain john price x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #birdsofafeathercod

245 notes · View notes

probablyasocialecologist · 8 months ago

Text

Ending mass human deprivation and providing good lives for the whole world's population can be accomplished while at the same time achieving ecological objectives. This is demonstrated by a new study by the Institute of Environmental Science and Technology of the Universitat Autònoma de Barcelona (ICTA-UAB) and the London School of Economics and Political Science, recently published in World Development Perspectives. About 80% of humanity cannot access necessary goods and services and lives below the threshold for "decent living." Some narratives claim that addressing this problem will require massive economic growth on a global scale, multiplying existing output many times over, which would exacerbate climate change and ecological breakdown. The authors of the new study dispute this claim and argue that human development does not require such a dangerous approach. Reviewing recent empirical research, they find that ending mass deprivation and provisioning decent living standards for 8.5 billion people would require only 30% of current global resource and energy use, leaving a substantial surplus for additional consumption, public luxury, scientific advancement, and other social investments. This would ensure that everyone in the world has access to nutritious food, modern housing, high-quality health care, education, electricity, induction stoves, sanitation systems, clothing, washing machines, refrigerators, heating/cooling systems, computers, mobile phones, internet, and transport, and could also include universal access to recreational facilities, theaters, and other public goods. The authors argue that, to achieve such a future, strategies for development should not pursue capitalist growth and increased aggregate production as such but should rather increase the specific forms of production that are necessary to improve capabilities and meet human needs at a high standard, while ensuring universal access to key goods and services through public provisioning and decommodification. In the Global South, this requires using industrial policy to increase economic sovereignty, develop industrial capacity, and organize production around human well-being. At the same time, in high-income countries, less-necessary production (of things like mansions, SUVs, private jets and fast fashion) must be scaled down to enable faster decarbonization and to help bring resource use back within planetary boundaries, as degrowth scholarship holds.

July 25 2024

#degrowth #climate change #universal basic services #poverty #economic growth #jason hickel

267 notes · View notes

covid-safer-hotties · 7 months ago

Text

With the toll of new COVID-19 infections regularly topping 1 million a day and weekly deaths creeping toward the 1,000 mark, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) has launched a campaign aimed not at protecting the public from this ongoing pandemic, now in its fifth year, but at washing its hands of responsibility.

CDC Director Dr. Mandy Cohen held a press conference August 23 to review the state of the COVID-19 pandemic and encourage the public to get their winter COVID-19, RSV and flu vaccines once they are made available. While bluntly acknowledging that “COVID is with us,” she tried unconvincingly to assure reporters and viewers that “we have the tools to protect ourselves.” She then added, as a way of shifting the blame, “We just need to use them!”

Dr. Cohen was silent on who was responsible for the failure of most Americans to get booster shots or otherwise protect themselves from a disease, which can be fatal for many and cause lifelong debilitation for many more.

She could have named the Democratic administration of Joe Biden and Kamala Harris, which ended the COVID-19 emergency more than a year ago and treats the pandemic as a thing of the past. She could have named Republican presidential candidate Donald Trump, the promoter of quack remedies like ivermectin and bleach, who recently welcomed into his campaign the anti-vaxxer and enemy of science and public health, Robert F. Kennedy Jr.

And if she had been equipped with a mirror—and a conscience—she could have pointed to herself and other top CDC officials, who have collaborated in the anti-scientific rampage to shut down both mitigation efforts and even elementary data collection on cases of illness, hospitalization and death.

Most importantly (and therefore least likely) she could have acknowledged that within the framework of the capitalist system, the profits of giant banks and corporations are far more important than the lives of human beings. That is the meaning of the incessant claims that schools, factories, public transportation and facilities must be kept open, to save “the economy,” despite the inevitable spread of the infection as a result.

Dr. Cohen, like her predecessors and colleagues at the top of the public health establishment, puts political pressures above science and medicine. The nearly hour-long briefing was simply political theater, where a panel of experts attempted to place the public health agency in the best light despite acknowledging the monumental number of daily infections that have seen hospitalizations and fatalities climb.

Meanwhile, schools across multiple states have announced closures—affecting thousands—just as the new academic year has begun, in response to mass infections among faculty and students.

So far this year, more than 26,000 Americans have died from acute COVID-19 complications, and more than 800 per week are being killed by a preventable infection, a figure 20 percent higher than last year this time. At the current rate, it is expected that between 50,000 to 60,000 Americans will die from COVID-19 in 2024, a rate two to three times higher than fatalities from flu. However, these do not take into consideration excess deaths, and given the complete dismantling of the reporting systems, these figures are known undercounts.

Such figures could only appear low in comparison to the colossal death toll of the first three years of the pandemic, when 352,000 died in 2020, 464,000 in 2021 and 260,000 in 2022. In 2023, 76,000 COVID-19 deaths were recorded. All these numbers are underestimates, as excess mortality figures are considerably higher. The cumulative death toll from COVID-19 is likely well over 1.4 million in the United States and approaching 30 million worldwide.

Neither did the panel address any concerns over the fact that millions continue to suffer from Long COVID, which has taken a significant toll on the health of Americans and the world over. It bears mentioning that a recent study noted that 410 million people across the world have had Long COVID with a $1 trillion impact on global GDP. Yet, no treatment for this condition exists. Without health insurance and means, issues of brain fog, chronic fatigue and sleep disturbances become part of one’s physiognomy.

Much about Dr. Cohen’s characterization of the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic is deeply flawed and should have been taken up by the press, who remained silent on the matter. First and foremost, her claim, in response to a direct question that COVID-19 “is endemic,” is completely misleading.

An infection is endemic when it is contained, not spreading uncontrolled and not causing significant impact on the society. COVID-19 is none of these. It remains a pandemic, with new waves of infections where millions are being infected daily by a virus whose mutation far outstrips the efforts of public health agencies and pharmaceutical companies to provide vaccines, medicines and mitigation practices. It continues to cause large-scale social disruption, economic loss and general hardship.

The opposition of both capitalist parties to any significant effort to fight the pandemic was on display last week. The Democratic National Convention, like its Republican counterpart in July, was a massive superspreader event, with thousands of delegates and media personnel congregating in an enclosed arena, where there was continuous cheering, shouting and singing. There are already anecdotal reports of widespread sickness in state delegations returning from Chicago.

As for the Republicans, Trump staged his appearance with Robert F. Kennedy Jr. on Friday afternoon, beaming as Kennedy announced he was folding up his independent presidential campaign and endorsing the ex-president and would-be dictator. Kennedy said he was working with Trump on staffing agencies like the CDC, NIH, FDA and USDA from the standpoint of ending the “chronic disease crisis.” By this he means, of course, ending efforts to fight diseases and letting children, the elderly, and the entire American population suffer the consequences.

Fundamentally, all large epidemics and pandemics are serious social issues that require broad-scale infection control in place to disrupt and prevent disease. And with respect to COVID-19 and all future pandemics, these require an international collaborative perspective.

In 2024 so far, 179 million people were infected in the United States, a total that is eventually expected to surpass 2023, when more than 248 million Americans, or three-quarters of the population, caught COVID-19. SARS-CoV-2 wastewater levels throughout the pandemic suggest that there have been more than 1.1 billion infections in the United States, between three and four for every person in the country.

This begs the question how are those most vulnerable, such as the elderly, immunocompromised, and those with chronic disabling medical conditions, which represent a significant portion of the population, to protect themselves from perpetual mass infection?

For the CDC director to present public health efforts as a matter of individual, personal choice is a gross falsification of reality. The policy of mass infection has been forced on the population.

As for having the tools to protect themselves, what is being offered are simply vaccines and more vaccines as a means to prevent COVID-19. As the WSWS recently noted, “Despite the limitations, the uptake of the vaccines is vital for the health of the population. The shots have a strong, proven safety record and do prevent severe disease and potentially reduce the risk of Long COVID, as studies have indicated. However, they do not prevent infections and the immunity they offer is short-lived given the constant mutation of the virus.”

The vaccines by Pfizer and Moderna carry a cost of $120 to $130 per shot. In some regions, these can be as high as $160 or even $200. However, the rescinding in March of $4.3 billion from the Department of Health and Human Services in COVID-19 supplemental funding means access to free vaccines for the 26 million uninsured and tens of millions more underinsured, essentially all from working class families, will only mean that the vaccination campaign will simply languish as it did last year when only 7 million Americans accepted the boosters within six weeks of their delivery to pharmacies.

As for other tools in their toolbox, Cohen refers to anti-viral treatments like Paxlovid, which are regularly being denied to patients by their physicians or when they actually are given a prescription, face the daunting price tag of $1,300 to $2,400 per course because their insurance denies them coverage. Meanwhile, repurposed medications like Metformin, a drug that treats diabetes, which has shown anti-viral properties and shown in randomized trials to reduce COVID-19 viral loads and decrease risk of Long COVID, remain unmentioned. In particular, this raises the question of why there are so few tools in the toolbox, and why some are being removed, such as the ability to wear N95 masks in public.

The arrest of an 18-year-old New York man in Nassau County on Tuesday who was wearing a black ski mask utilizing the recently passed mask-ban legislation will only embolden police departments and threaten the public who face possible detentions and arrest simply on charges of police suspicion.

At the Democratic National Convention, guidance was issued forbidding mask wearing by attendees unless “it was necessary due to a disability” and this at the discretion of security.

#covid #mask up #pandemic #covid 19 #wear a mask #coronavirus #sars cov 2 #public health #still coviding #wear a respirator

222 notes · View notes

jpsedu · 16 days ago

Text

#cbse school admissions 2025-26 #top english medium school for boys #top english medium school for girls #schools with transportation facility #top 10 cbse schools in india for 11th and 12th #best higher secondary school in west bengal #jps cbse school #jps sonarpur cbse school #jps sonarpur school

0 notes

luxaofhesperides · 1 year ago

Note

For the ghostlights drabbles: “Say my name” with a favor being called in?

Duke had saved Phantom years ago, back when he was just out of high school and working to take down a branch of the government that was kidnapping and experimenting on people, targeting magic users and metas. Phantom had been working on his own to take them down, and they met in the middle, trashing a lab and freeing as many people as they could.

They had managed to shoot his back, knocking him down and making him bleed a glowing green. Phantom couldn’t move, protecting two kids with his body, and Duke couldn’t reach them in time before they were taken away by another swarm of agents.

He was able to go after them in time, free Phantom and the kids, and evacuated the victims before Phantom rained hell down on the facility.

At the end, standing in the background as they watched paramedics treat the victims and take them towards the nearest hospitals, Phantom had turned towards him and thanked him.

Or rather, he thanked the Signal and offered him a bracelet with a rounded orb of ice, glowing faintly in the dark. If you ever need me, he had said, Hold this, and call me name.

Phantom vanished once the last of the victims were transported to a safer location, and Duke hadn’t seen him since.

He’s kept up with news about Phantom as best he can, but from what he could tell, Phantom is based primarily in Amity Park, Illinois, and the town is fiercely protective of their hero. News rarely leaks out of there, and with them running on their own servers and independent internet, it was nearly impossible to get in from the outside.

Phantom remained a curious and distant figure in Duke’s life. He holds onto the bracelet still, guarding it carefully and sometimes running his fingers over the ice that never melts.

But he doesn’t call in that favor. He’s never to.

At least, not until now.

Sucking in a breath, Duke prepares himself and holds the orb of ice in the palm of his hand. He’s in civies, unable to hide his identity for this, and closes his eyes. “Phantom,” he says.

For a moment, nothing happens. Duke blinks his eyes open and frowns, mind already forming new plans to contact Phantom. Then the ice goes bitingly cold, almost painful, and the temperature in the room drops dramatically. The ice lifts up from his hand, floating in the air, then cracks open.

White-blue light spills out of it, growing brighter as it seems to swallow up the room entirely. Duke hurries to back up, an arm thrown up to protect his eyes. His breath mists out before him and he shivers as the sound of ice cracking fills the room.

And then, just as suddenly as it started, the light disappears and the cold fades away like a bad dream.

Slowly, Duke lowers his arm and looks up at Phantom, floating in the middle of his living room with a crown made of ice, engulfed in blue fire, hovers above his head. He looks older, more regal, holding his head high.

He regards Duke carefully for a minute, then tilts his head and says, “Signal?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Man, I’m so glad you came.”

“You… need help with something? You’re calling in your favor now, right?”

Duke nods. He understands Phantom’s confusion; being in the hero business means that favors like these tend to be used only during the most hopeless of times, when the world is close to ending, when the chances of getting out of a situation alive is close to impossible. It’s exactly the kind of thing Duke was expecting to call Phantom in for.

Not the kid sleeping on his couch.

“You’re a ghost, yeah?”

Phantom blinks at him. “Ghost king, now. Why?”

“Well…” Duke rubs the back of his neck, nervously. “I didn’t really know who else to call, and I can’t do this on my own since I’m not a ghost. But this kid got attached to me and won’t leave, so now I’m taking care of her and I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“I don’t know why you think I have any experience with kids but—”

“She’s a ghost.”

Phantom stops short. “Ah. I see.” He floats down until his feet touch the floor, and then he’s standing like any other person. “Where…?”

Duke looks past Phantom’s shoulder, and Phantom turns to follow his gaze. Chelsea, the ghost girl, looks to be around nine years old and is fast asleep on the couch, curled up under Duke’s softest blanket.

“Signal,” Phantom says quietly, “What, exactly, is the favor you need from me?”

“You can say no,” Duke starts. “I get that this is a lot. But I need help raising her. And since you’re a ghost, I figured you could help me learn about the ghostly side of things. You don’t have to raise her with me or anything! Just… I would appreciate any help you’re willing to give me.”

Phantom doesn’t say no. He doesn’t say anything. He just stares down at Chelsea, an unreadable expression on his face.

On the couch. Chelsea shifts in her sleep, brows furrowing as she makes a choked noise in the back of her throat.

Moving on autopilot after so many nights of this routine, Duke kneels next to the couch, fishing one of her hands from beneath the blanket. He gives it a few reassuring squeezes, keeping it a slow rhythm to pull her gently from her nightmare. She settles down in just a minute, brow smoothing out as she continues to sleep.

The silence grows and Duke is all too aware that his heart is the only one beating.

He doesn’t hear Phantom move. Doesn’t realize he’s right next to him until he sees Phantom’s hand reach out towards Chelsea. When Duke looks, Phantom is sitting on the floor next to Duke, looking at Chelsea with something soft and devastated in his eyes. His hand hovers about her head for a long moment, then slowly lowers to rest on her head.

The touch looks gently, barely putting any pressure on her head, but it’s enough to make Chelsea’s eyes snap open, suddenly wide awake. She stares at Phantom with wide eyes, then sits up and looks between him and Duke.

“Who are you?” she asks in a small voice that makes Duke want to stand against the world to keep her safe.

Phantom smiles. It’s casual and charming and makes him look like anyone else, as if he’s not a powerful king from a realm unreachable to humans. “Hi there,” he says, “I’m Danny. I’m a ghost like you. Signal called me and asked me to meet you.”

The Ghost King is good with kids. Who would have thought?

Chelsea looks at him for confirmation and only relaxes when he nods. “I’m Chelsea. What do you mean ghost? I’m not dead.”

Both he and Phantom tense, carefully keeping their expressions neutral. She hasn’t told him much at all, just that her parents were gone and forgot her and she got hurt, so she wanted to stay with ‘Mr. Signal’ because he’s a hero and heroes keep people safe and he was the only one who was Black like her. Duke hadn’t had the heart to say no, and began searching for her family, only to find that her parents had fled the state, and likely the country, after killing their only child through neglect and a dangerous environment.

It was then that he realized that her powers were not because she was a meta, but because she was ghost.

It still hurts to realize how young she is, how much of her life had been stolen from her in an instant. Duke hadn’t been brave enough to broach the topic with her, instead choosing to let her grow comfortable in his presence, get them both settled into a routine now that he was her primary guardian.

“I know it sounds scary,” Phantom says, “And you may not want to believe me, but it’s true. I’m sorry that you died so young, but that just means you get to hang out with me and other ghosts from now on!”

Chelsea crosses her arms over her chest and glares at him. “I am not dead,” she says.

“Cici, I’m sorry to say this, but you are,” Duke cuts in. “That’s why I called… Danny. You have new powers as a ghost, and he can help you get used to them.”

“I’m not dead!” she says again.

“Kid,” Phantom begins, but Chelsea shakes her head hard and hops off the couch.

“I’m not lying! Watch, I’ll prove it to you!” She closes her eyes and scrunches up her nose, concentrating. Her hands curl into tight fists by her sides, and the glow around her grows dim. Two faint, stuttering rings of light appear around her waist. They flicker and wobble in the air, as if weak and uncertain of their own existence, then split apart, one moving up towards her head while the other falls to her feet.

Beside him, Phantom sucks in a sharp breath, but Duke can’t turn to see what’s wrong when he’s trying to take in the sight of Chelsea suddenly full of vibrant color, looking more solid that he’s ever seen her, very much alive.

“See?” she says proudly, lifting her arms and doing a spin to show off her right she was. “I told you I’m not dead!”

“No, you’re not,” Phantom agrees, sounding shell-shocked. When Duke is finally able to look away from Chelsea to check on him, he looks awed. There’s the smallest smile on his face, just the slightest upturn of his lips, but it makes him look softer.

Duke turns his attention back to Chelsea before he can be caught staring. “Cici, can you come here for a second?”

She goes before he’s finished speaking, crossing the space between them in a single jump, then grins up at him. Her hair is a bit of a mess, the two buns he managed to get her hair into falling askew. He makes a note to visit the old aunties in the Narrows later to ask them to teach him how to do hair. For now, he holds out a hand and Chelsea drops an arm into it.

It seems to good to be true, having her be alive, but her pulse is steady and strong when he presses his thumb against the inside of her wrist.

“Well,” he says, leaning back and letting go of her arm. “You certainly proved us wrong.”

Chelsea doesn’t have much time to look smug before PHantom quietly says, “You’re like me.”

“What?”

“You’re like me,” he tells Chelsea. “A halfa.”

She tilts her head to one side. “What’s that?”

“Someone who is half human and half ghost. Both dead and alive.”

Duke blinks, taking in the words, then turns to face Phantom so quickly he’s worried he might give himself whiplash. Halfa, he said. Like me, he said.

And sure enough, two rings of light, bright and strong, appear around Phantom’s waist before splitting in half, moving over his entire body.

Gone is the Ghost King, all powerful and adorned in dark clothing with a crown of ice above his head. In his place is a guy who looks to be Duke’s age, eyes a deep blue and his black hair messy, feet set solidly on the floor. He looks completely normal, completely human, and no longer an impossibility.

“You still up for learning how to use all your new powers?” Phantom asks.

Chelsea grins. “Yeah!” And then, with a quick flick of her eyes going from Phantom to Duke that he almost misses, very innocently asks, “Are you going to stay with us then?”

“I… don’t know?” Phantom looks to Duke for an answer.

Already, Duke can see this going two ways. The correct way forward, the normal one, has Phantom popping in every so often, taking Chelsea out for a few hours to work on training her and her powers. It’s easy and routine and they can keep their boundaries uncrossed and be professional.

The other path is what Duke wants most that he shouldn’t impose onto the literal Ghost King. He could have Phantom living with them while he’s on Earth and out of Amity Park, having a place at the table, a section in the closet for his own clothes, a quietly domestic night together while Chelsea sleeps where they can get to know each other more, get to know each other outside of news reports and texts on a screen.

“You can stay with us if you want,” Duke offers, casually, “It might keep my apartment safe from her powers acting up on their own again.”

“Are you sure? I could always just fly in on the weekends or something.”

“I’d appreciate having you around. So you can help Cici.”

“If you don’t mind,” Phantom says, looking away. Like this, fully alive with a beating heart, it’s easy to see the blush steal away across his cheeks.

“I don’t.”

“I don’t either!” Chelsea pops in, looking far too gleeful by their awkward conversation.

Duke can’t help but laugh, feeling lighter than he had in ages. The relief of knowing that Chelsea is alive, for the most part at least, eases the guilt of thinking he had been too late to save her, that there was no chance she could have made it out and had a future, makes him feel weak. All the exhaustion of the past few weeks hits him all at once and he wants nothing more than to collapse in bed and sleep for twelve hours.

“Alright, squirt,” he says, reaching out to pat her head. “It’s late. We can talk more in the morning, so go to bed. In your actual bed this time, not on the couch.”

Chelsea stands up taller, ready to argue, but Duke gives her a Look™ and she quickly shuts her mouth, nods, and drags her feet back to her room (the former guestroom he can never give any of the other Waynes ever again, once they find out about her).

Sighing, Duke collapses onto the couch once he hears the door shut behind her. Phantom joins him after a few seconds, sitting tentatively on the edge of the couch. The cushion moves beneath his weight, another reminder of how solid and alive he is right not.

Duke wants to touch him, to reach out and feel for himself his pulse, the warmth of his body, his chest lifting with each breath.

He doesn’t move. He stays where he is, hands carefully still, and tries to think past the dizzying thoughts of she’s still alive, I’m not too late, he’s still here, he’s alive.

“Rough week?” Phantom asks, voice purposefully light.

“Something like that.”

“You should get some sleep too.”

“I don’t think I can. Not after everything. My mind’s too loud right now.”

Phantom shifts closer to him, hesitant in a way that Duke has never seen before in him, and asks, “Want me to stay with you until you mind quiets down some?”

“Yeah. I’d like that. Thanks, Phantom.”

“You know, if I’m going to be around so often as Chelsea’s halfa mentor, then you might as well call me Danny.”

Truth be told, Duke didn’t think that was his real name. He’s glad to know it’s not.

“Then call me Duke.”

“...Are you sure? You could still hide your identity from me.”

“Nah, I trust you. A name for a name, yeah?”

Danny smiles. “Duke,” he says, testing out the name, and it’s never sounded better than when it falls from Danny’s mouth.

“Danny,” Duke returns. He belatedly realizes that they’ve leaned towards each other, drawn together like gravity, stuck in each other’s orbit. It feels natural. It feels like this is where they’re meant to be.

Maybe he should be more cautious. They’ve only meant once before, after all. But he’s read all he could on Phantom and has seen how Amity Park loves him. He’s stressed and exhausted and trying to figure out how to look after a half-ghost child that’s already been dealt a bad hand in life. He should be keeping Phantom at a distance, watching over him carefully to ensure he isn’t a threat to Chelsea.

But Duke saw how he acted with Chelsea, so gentle and understanding and kind. That’s all he needed to see.

He may not know much about Danny, but he knows this: he is trustworthy.

Enough to entrust his identity to him.

Enough to entrust Chelsea to him.

It’s more than a favor; it’s a promise to walk this road together.

There’s no one he’d rather do this with.

“Thanks,” he says again, “For all of this. I know it’s a lot.”

Danny shrugs. “I don’t mind. Really. It’s nice to know there’s another halfa out there, no matter how she came to be one. Makes things feel less lonely.”

“Will you tell me more about halfas?”

“Later. Once you get some proper rest. We’ve got time, haven’t we?”

“We do,” Duke agrees, affection settling warm in his chest. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

Learning how to control her new powers won’t be easy for Chelsea. Learning how to take care of her won’t be easy. Learning how to do things together, as Duke and Danny rather than the Signal and Phantom, won’t be easy. But Duke knows with a certainty he feels in his bones that they’re going to be fine.

So long as they’ve got each other, they’ll be fine.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp fic #prompt fill #my writing #thought a lot abt what the favor could be but i could not resist the idea of surprise co-parents once i thought of it #here's a kid who clings to someone she knows is safe bc she is scared and alone!!#heres a stressed out hero trying to take care of a kid with no knowledge of how to do that!! and the kid is a ghost!!#heres a ghost king expecting to be used as a weapon and called in for a big battle suddenly finding another halfa!!!#so much going on here. so much to think abt with this!!!!!#i do love found family like this where they all kinda stumble into it and do their best to make it good #also could not resist making yet another oc. chelsea has my whole heart i love her <3 shes my daughter first #the bats dont know abt chelsea yet!! bc she can go invisble. its all been instinct every time they pop over to visit duke #soon she'll be able to control it and meet them properly #by properly i mean dukes gonna go over for sunday brunch and a little girl is gonna pop out from behind him like 'hi! im new!'#they will all love her of course. they will be shocked but happy!!#and a little less happy abt the GHOST KING duke has been hiding in his apartment that hes co-parenting with #sorry for the long tags im obsessed w this idea i want to Expand on it #maybe one day... with my other wips out of the way...

531 notes · View notes

writeyouin · 10 months ago

Note

I dont know if this went through but can I get a valentines day request for tfa sentinel prime falling in love with a g/n human reader?

Sentinel Prime (TFA) X Reader – Making Alliances

Description: After the war between Earth and Cybertron ended, you were recruited to work alongside Sentinel Prime. Yet, he tries to make your job hard, determined to keep on hating humans. Yet, given time, he finds it almost impossible to dislike you, no matter how hard he tries.

A/N – I had such a basic bitch plan for this and instead it turned into one of my longer fics.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

“Guys, really, it’s fine. I’m fine,” You tried to assure the Autobots.

Optimus, Bulkhead and Ratchet looked at you doubtfully. Bumblebee looked more annoyed.

“Fine? How can you be fine with this? This reeks!” He exclaimed, waving his arms around.

You stifled a laugh at his over-dramatics. “Okay, I’ll admit, I never saw myself working with Sentinel, but… It’s not a terrible idea.”

Although you had your doubts, you believed what you said. Now that the war was over, and Megatron had been defeated, Cybertron had officially launched the Earth Alliance Program. Since the Autobots had been posted on Earth during the war, there was no point denying Alien existence, even though many Cybertronians didn’t think much of humans. Having been stationed on Cybertron for a week while you acclimatised, you had heard the hushed comments about how you weren’t advanced enough to be there, and how weak and fragile your frame was.

When the Autobots had come to your planet, they had faced their share of xenophobia, some of which continued to this day. Now that you were on their planet, you were beginning to get the same treatment.

In an attempt to bring your races closer together, Ultra Magnus had decided it would be best for you to be placed with a high-ranking officer, and as such he had made you Sentinel Prime’s assistant. Although he could have just as easily put you to work with Jazz, or left you with Optimus’ team, you understood his reasoning. If Sentinel could get over his prejudices, then anyone could. Besides, you still had one week left before you were to begin your work. In that time, you were expected to report any struggles that you had living on Cybertron.

In your first week, you had reported that the shower in your specially-made apartment was too hot, the cooking facilities were inadequate, and that you needed your own mode of transport so nobody else had to help you get around.

All the issues were addressed relatively quickly and now you had a motor-scooter which ran on autopilot. The vehicle did have a function for you to drive it yourself, but it had been dictated that you could not use that unless it was an emergency, otherwise you would be in breach of the first Cybertronian law written with humans in mind; it seemed that the governing body didn’t trust you to drive, though their fear and prejudice didn’t bother you too much.

“Are you even listening to me?!” Bumblebee waved his arms erratically.

While you had been lost in thought about your new position, he had been ranting about what a scrap heap Sentinel was.

You held up your hands placatingly, feeling a tiny pang of sadness that Prowl wasn’t there. It used to be him that ended Bumblebee’s tirades but… Well, everyone knew that war had its casualties; you just wished that it didn’t have to be someone you knew.

“Yes, I’m, listening. But seriously Bumblebee, you don’t have to worry about me. It’s just a job.”

‘A job I feel massively underqualified for,’ You added in your head, thinking how you had only been chosen because you met the Autobots by chance and they trusted you as their second human liaison.

Sari would also start her life on Cybertron, but seeing how she was techno-organic and only a teenager, she was going to school to learn about her Cybertronian heritage and culture.

Jazz and Bulkhead were going to stay on Earth, and Optimus was going to travel between both planets in an attempt to cement the worlds’ budding relationship. So, for a while, you would be alone, at least in a working capacity. Granted, Ratchet and Bumblebee would be nearby, but this was something you would have to do on your own.

“Alright,” Bumblebee grumbled. “But if he’s a glitch-head, get me and I’ll kick the scrap outta him!”

“You and what army?” Ratchet commented drily.

You chuckled and thanked Bumblebee, touching his arm to soothe him. A blush dusted his cheeks.

“Uh games night?” He said hurriedly, attempting to hide his feelings before racing off to where Sari was waiting for you all.

You ignored his flush red, fully aware of how he felt about you. You knew that was a conversation that the two of you would have to have one day, but you waited for the day he might bring it up. Besides, since this was the last night everyone would be together for a while, you didn’t want anything to jeopardise the fun, especially when faced with something as tough as unrequited love.

“I’m here,” You said breathlessly, shooting through the automatic door just in time for work.

Sentinel glared at you. He had been counting on you being late so that he could complain about you to anyone who would listen afterwards.

“So… What would you like me to do, Sentinel Prime, Sir?” You bowed formally. There was no need to do so, but you hoped that by addressing him with such respect, he might warm to you somewhat. Having met him once or twice before, you knew how arrogant he could be and had decided for an easy life it might be better to stroke his ego somewhat.

Your gambit paid off as Sentinel forgot whatever sharp insult he was about to say. Instead, he blustered, puffed out his chest and managed to order you to stay out of his way while he did his job.

“Sorry Sir, but Ultra Magnus ordered me to help you in whatever way I can.”

“I know that! It doesn’t matter. I don’t need your help. Just stay out of my way and at the end of all this, we can tell Ultra Magnus to have you reassigned.”

“No, sir,” You said adamantly, standing your ground.

“What?” Sentinel spat, his lip curling.

“I’m here to work with you. I won’t be shunted to the side just ‘cos I’m human. Our planets worked together to capture Megatron, now we have to work together to show that our races can do the same.”

Sentinel stared menacingly at you. He didn’t want to be anywhere near you. You were small, organic, filthy. With that in mind, he wished you would just leave. He didn’t want any of your gross germs on him. Yet, it seemed that you were also stubborn in your mission.

“Fine,” He said after a minute, though it was clear he wanted to tell you where to go. “Just don’t do any of that gross human stuff. If you sneeze-” He didn’t finish his sentence, shuddering at the thought.

You gave him a thumbs up, “No sneezing, got it.”

With that, Sentinel finally gave you some work to do, and you began what was sure to be a rocky relationship.

Working with Sentinel was difficult.

Sometimes, he would barely give you any work at all, insisting you use your ‘initiative’ to find tasks that would aid him. On other days, he would pile your workload impossibly high, and if you were struggling to understand the reports that he had ordered you to complete, that was your fault and he wouldn’t help you.

Either way, at the end of the shift, he would get to kick back at the bar and complain that you either didn’t understand the job or couldn’t keep up with the tasks provided to a bunch of equally closed-minded mechs who wanted to see you fail.

Still, you didn’t complain, doing your best to learn all you needed to succeed. To Sentinel it was infuriating, but you knew that if you complained, it would validate everything he thought about you, no matter how unfair it was.

Fortunately, you learned how to better work around him by talking to him with the utmost respect, complimenting him, and generally getting him talking about himself. On days when he indulged you with stories of his glory days, he was a little kinder, occasionally throwing you a bone and helping you out a bit with some of your workload, or sometimes instructing you on things you had been struggling with.

Still, your working relationship wasn’t great and wouldn’t be viable unless something changed.

Such a day finally came when Sentinel had the terrible idea that you should be faster, and very suddenly presented you with his patented human speed shoes… They were rollerblades.

“I can’t use these,” You sighed when he threw them at you, too afraid to hand them to you in case you touched him.

“You can and you will,” Sentinel harrumphed.

“Sentinel, I can’t rollerblade, at least not with all the things I have to carry about, and-”

“Is this you refusing to work, human?”

You rolled your eyes. Not only was he seeking an excuse to stop working with you, but he was also playing his trump card by calling you human instead of using your name; he did that whenever he wanted to instil a feeling of power imbalance upon you.

“Fine,” You sighed, giving in. “I’ll wear the damn rollerblades.”

“Speed-shoes,” Sentinel corrected.

“Speed-shoes,” You conceded, finding him to be extra impossible.

As you had told Sentinel, using the rollerblades for work was impossible, especially when you were carrying a stack of oversized datapads that you couldn’t see over, since Sentinel was also being unreasonable about your workload.

It started as a stumble on one of the higher walkways that had been provided like scaffolding around the office for you to work with. Yet, instead of falling, you dropped the datapads, tripped backwards, and screamed as you fell over the handrail.

While Sentinel was mostly paper-pushing since the war was over, he was still trained for battle. He hurriedly spun around at the sound of your scream and ran to catch you. While he was timely in his rescue, he wasn’t gentle and he blanched at the sound of bone snapping.

He expected you to cry out again, but you were worryingly quiet upon the realisation that your leg had broken.

“(Y/N)!” Sentinel yelled your name. His processor skipped over the necessary sentences as he scrambled to think of what to say next. He was stuck between asking if you were okay, even though you clearly weren’t, ordering you not to tell anyone about the speed shoes that had caused the accident, and demanding you to tell him how to fix you.

“I- I-” Tears streamed from your eyes.

Sentinel was taken aback by how pale you were and how unusual it felt to hold you. He was certain he would drop you if any liquids came out of you, yet here you were crying and all he wanted to do was hold you closer and tell you that everything was going to be okay.

You were soft and warm and… completely unexpected.

“R-Ratchet,” You managed to say between your sniffles and grunts of pain, pulling the rollerblades off, even though it hurt to move.

“Right!” Sentinel exclaimed, snapping out of his silence.

He transformed into vehicle mode, grimacing when it caused you more pain to be jostled about, then he sped to the medical school where Ratchet was spending his twilight years, passing on his knowledge to another generation of bots.

“What in tarnation is going on here?” Ratchet demanded of Sentinel as he held you out to the older bot in the safety of a private med-bay.

“I-(Y/N)-” Sentinel stammered, feeling the pressure of Ratchet’s stern glare.

“I fell,” You said weakly to Ratchet.

“Fell, huh?” Ratchet said doubtfully. “Where are your shoes, kid?”

You shook your head, indicating that it didn’t matter, but Ratchet was an astute old bot, and he shot a scathing to look at Sentinel, even though you hadn’t sold him out.

“Really, Ratchet. It- it was my f-”

“Never mind that, kid. Let’s get you seen to.”

Although Sentinel wanted to leave, he stayed, mostly because he couldn’t fathom why you hadn’t told on him. He regretted that decision when Ratchet asked him to chat privately after treating you. By that point, you were too tired to protect Sentinel further, and the pain medication had made you somewhat woozy. Besides, even if you had been in any shape to argue, you couldn’t keep up with either of them on a bandaged leg, and without assistance you couldn’t get down from the medical berth provided.

Once Ratchet had got Sentinel out of your sight, he began yelling, “I don’t know what you did, but you're darn lucky that kid isn’t selling you out! That’s far more loyalty than you’d ever give to them!”

“Wha-” Sentinel spluttered, offended and slightly intimidated by the older bot.

“Don’t you dare try to explain yourself to me! Young bots are all alike, all arrogance and no spark. Do you know how long it takes for an injury like that to heal in humans?! AND (Y/N) WILL BE TRAPPED HERE FOR A FEW DAYS, BORED AND ALONE SINCE YOU KEEP TELLING EVERY DAMNED BOT WHO’LL LISTEN TO YOU HOW LITTLE YOU THINK OF HUMANS!”

“I-” Sentinel held up a finger to argue, but Ratchet slapped his servo away.

“Don’t you dare try to argue with me,” He said dangerously. “I’ve seen (Y/N) a few times since she started working with you. You’ve overworked that poor kid for no reason at all, and let me tell you something- That kid won’t quit. You can pile on all the work you want, and (Y/N) will do it. They’ll exhaust themself to do anything you ask, all because they’re the bigger person and want to be friends.”

Ratchet barked a mirthless laugh, continuing his tirade, “Friends, HAH! But you won’t let that happen, will you, Mr. Bigshot. No, ‘cos you’re so superior. Well, anything to say for yourself now?”

Sentinel looked somewhat ashamed and contrite after Ratchet’s verbal rebuke, yet he let his anger bubble up and overtake him.

“I am your superior officer,” He spat contemptuously.

Ratchet shook his head, disgustedly. “Then lead by example and do something worthy of the title.”

The older bot was about to walk away, but Sentinel wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction, so he stormed ahead first, rushing back to the room you were stuck in.

“Come on (Y/N), I’m taking you home.”

“I just told you (Y/N) has to stay here,” Ratchet yelled, catching up.

“Not if there’s someone to take care of them.”

“And you’re gonna do that?”

“Yes!”

Sentinel picked you up, more gently than before, and this time, he was extra careful as he transformed so as to spare you any discomfort.

He wasn’t entirely certain whether to take you to your own home or his, but after some thought about organic fuels and how much effort you would have to put into traversing his sizeable house, he opted for taking you to your place, next door to the techno-organic and down the road from that insufferable Bumblebee.

Sentinel especially hated the contentious yellow mini-bot since he always found reasons to bother you at work and it was a massive distraction. It didn’t help that Bumblebee was obviously head over pedes for you and that he had no respect for Sentinel at all; he only ever left at your insistence, and always with an insult for Sentinel about the workload he gave to you.

Hm… your workload. Sentinel couldn’t help thinking about what an aft he’d been of late.

“When you’re fit for work, I think you should take it easy. No more 12 groon days.”

A groon on Cybertron was more or less an hour, and you nodded along sleepily in understanding, grumbling a half-word that didn’t make sense outside of your head.

“Hey, are you listening?”

Your eyes shut heavily and you could barely lift them open to respond.

“Great, I suppose I have to take you to bed now too?” Sentinel complained, covering just how worried he was that you were acting out of the ordinary.

When he got you home, Sentinel struggled to take care of you; he had very little knowledge on humans, except that they had corrosive spit, though most were apparently too civilised to use it. Your house was a hybrid of human-sized equipment and catwalks, and lounge space for several Cybertronians, yet having never been there before, Sentinel didn’t know the layout, nor did he understand what half your appliances did, or what certain rooms were for.

He did manage to find your bed and lift you up to it, but after that, he felt like he should be doing something more to help. You were recharging now, but you would probably need things when you woke up.

Stuck on what to do, Sentinel reluctantly knocked on your neighbour’s door.

“What do you want?” Sari asked obnoxiously, annoyed to have been interrupted in the middle of the day, right after she had returned from class.

“I- I-” Sentinel made an effort to swallow his pride, an act which took a good five minutes. “I need your help.”

It took Sari about 10 minutes to stop laughing, but she got very serious when Sentinel begrudgingly explained that you were injured and that he didn’t know how to help you. After seeing you in bed, sleeping off the pain medication that Ratchet had administered, Sari explained very carefully how long it would take for your leg to heal, and what Sentinel had to do in the few coming days to help you out, such as placing a water bottle by your bed, and making sure your crutches were in reach.

Sentinel listened to everything she said, ignoring the back-handed insults that came his way, then after Sari left, he settled into the bot-sized lounge, waiting for you to wake up. He put the TV on, watching a show from Earth you had left in the player, synching the volume to his audials, but keeping it low all the same in case he needed to hear you wake up.

Having watched several episodes of the comedy show you had, Sentinel had to admit, it was pretty funny… for something humans had made. The idea of Ghosts being so ridiculously stupid did amuse him.

You woke up quietly, sucking in pain through your teeth as the medication you had been given started to wear off. Admittedly, you were surprised to see Sentinel in your house, even though you vaguely remembered him promising that he would be there.

It was amusing to see him actually having fun for once. Usually, he was tense and angry around you; you hadn’t realised he could be happy without putting someone else down.

You tried to get up without disturbing him but the crutch clattered to the floor before you could grab it.

“(Y/N),” Sentinel stood up quickly. “How are you feeling? Do you need Ratchet again?”

“I’m-” You thought about saying you were fine, as was the expected social response. Instead, you decided to answer truthfully. “I’m tired, but my leg was bothering me a bit.”

“It’ll be fine,” You added hurriedly before he could rush off to get help you didn’t need, “It’s just sore.”

Sentinel nodded. “From what I understand, it will be painful for some time,” He didn’t mention that by that he also meant the memory of inadvertently hurting you.

You nodded with a tired smile, “Yeah… Could be worse though. Thank you, for getting me help.”

“Thank… Thank you for your loyalty.”

You nodded again, “Yeah uh… You- You don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to. I can take care of myself.”

Sentinel would have gladly left if he didn’t feel so responsible for you. “I need to stay for a while if you are comfortable with me being here.”

“Okay,” You agreed, reaching again for your crutches so you could go to the bathroom.

Sentinel hurried to pick them up for you. “Okay,” He agreed solemnly.

Sentinel was surprisingly attentive to you. Although you only needed him for a day or so, he insisted on staying the full week. After that, he brought work to you for a while, afraid that if you returned to the main work base, you’d somehow make your recovery take longer.

Yet, the reports that he brought you were easier than before, confirming your suspicions that he had initially made your job harder than it needed to be; the deadlines were also laxer, and he took the time to explain a few things to you.

He stopped complaining about you to bots at the bar, and now on the odd occasion you sneezed or cleared your throat, he didn’t flinch or make nasty comments. In short, he was getting used to you, and you realised that when he tried, he could be very nice.

The peace was short lived however when Bumblebee came over to visit for the fourth time since you’d been hurt.

“You should quit,” He told you, point-blank, having abandoned the video game the two of you had been playing.

“Excuse me?” You asked, wondering what had prompted his response this time.

“Quit! Go back to working for the correct Prime. Optimus would treat you better and he wouldn’t make you work when you’re sick.”

“I’m not sick. A broken leg is not a sickness.”

“It’s an injury,” Bumblebee said accusingly, raising his voice.

“Bumblebee, this is for our races to work together. This is a good start.”

Bumblebee blushed. The way you spoke so passionately about your races working together made him think that you were talking about more than work… Maybe, you were talking about you and him. Together.

“Besides,” You added, “Working for Sentinel isn’t half-bad, you know. He’s- He’s been kind to me.”

Bumblebee froze at the look on your face. Pink-dusted cheeks, a soft smile that he had imagined would be reserved for him, the way your eyes glazed over almost dreamily when you spoke about Sentinel. No, no! This couldn’t be happening. You could not get feelings for that pompous, arrogant, pile of SLAG!

“How did you get hurt?” Bumblebee asked, dangerously quiet, though you missed the intention behind his tone.

He had asked you before, but you rattled off an excuse about being careless.

“I already told you,” You started, only to be cut off by a Bumblebee who was angrier than you’d ever seen him before.

“HOW DID YOU GET HURT?!”

“Bumblebee-”

“HOW?! IT WAS HIM WASN’T IT!”

“I-”

Bumblebee ran out of your house, transforming as soon as he was on the streets. He was determined to give Sentinel a piece of his mind.

It took a while for Bumblebee to find Sentinel, not knowing the places that the Prime frequented. Yet, he eventually found him leaving a store with a small box that fit under his arm.

Bumblebee rushed at Sentinel, throwing a punch against the larger bot’s jaw. Had he been prepared, Sentinel might have faired better, but as it was, he dropped the box he was carrying and stumbled backwards, against the alley wall.

Bumblebee tried to pin him but Sentinel pushed him back, grappling his arms.

“WHAT THE FRAG ARE YOU DOING?” Sentinel demanded as the two struggled, holding each other’s shoulder plates and trying to get the better of their opponent.

Bumblebee headbutted Sentinel in the chassis to little effect, “IT’S YOUR FAULT (Y/N) GOT HURT! ADMIT IT! IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!”

Bumblebee waited for the adamant denial Sentinel was known for. He pushed Sentinel back, readying his stingers, and only stopping when Sentinel answered.

“Yes.”

Bumblebee stopped in his tracks, mouth agape. Sentinel had never once taken responsibility for his actions.

“What?”

“It was my fault,” Sentinel admitted bitterly.

For the first time since finding him that night, Bumblebee really looked at Sentinel. “Why? Why now? After all this time, you finally admit to something…”

“It’s not natural…” Sentinel said more to himself than to Bumblebee. He was thinking about his feelings towards you, certain that it wasn’t right for a Cybertronian to feel anything romantic towards a human. He bent down to pick up the box which had spilled its contents onto the floor.

Bumblebee glanced down finding that it was all things for humans. Imported books from Earth, snacks you had been known to eat, herbal tea that Ratchet often recommended, and some pain medication.

Bumblebee picked up the tea, staring at it morosely before handing it to Sentinel who took it warily.

“(Y/N) doesn’t like that flavour,” He said quietly.

“I’ll… I’ll keep that in mind.”

Bumblebee nodded. He didn’t apologise for his actions, though it was implied in his tone when he addressed Sentinel for the final time that night, “Take better care of them. They’re everything to me.”

Sentinel nodded, watching Bumblebee walk away afterwards. He stayed there a few minutes longer before heading over to your house to gift you the things he had bought.

Like my work? Buy me a ko-fi

#fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #reader #maccadam #transformers animated #tfa #ratchet #sentinel prime #sentinel prime x reader #sentinel prime x you #bumblebee #bumblebee x reader #making alliances

238 notes · View notes

holyangelschool · 8 months ago

Text

CBSE Schools in Dehradun with Sports Facilities | Nurturing Young Minds at Holy Angel School

Choosing the right school for your child is a critical decision that shapes their future. Holy Angel School, with its outstanding sports facilities and reliable transportation services, provides an environment conducive to both academic and personal growth. As one of the premier CBSE schools in Dehradun with sports facilities, Holy Angel School is committed to nurturing young minds and fostering holistic development. To learn more about the school and its offerings, visit Holy Angel School.

#Dehradun CBSE schools with transportation facilities #CBSE schools in Dehradun with sports facilities #Dehradun CBSE schools for secondary education #Dehradun CBSE schools for primary education #Dehradun CBSE school fees

0 notes

mysticstronomy · 3 months ago

Text

DID LIFE BEGIN IN DEEP SPACE??

Blog#468

Saturday, January 4th, 2025.

Welcome back,

Life, for all its complexities, has a simple commonality: It spreads. Plants, animals and bacteria have colonized almost every nook and cranny of our world.

But why stop there? Some scientists speculate that biological matter may have proliferated across the cosmos itself, transported from planet to planet on wayward lumps of rock and ice. This idea is known as panspermia, and it carries a profound implication: Life on Earth may not have originated on our planet.

In theory, panspermia is fairly simple. Astronomers know that impacts from comets or asteroids on planets will sometimes eject debris with enough force to catapult rocks into space. Some of those space rocks will, in turn, crash into other worlds. A few rare meteorites on Earth are known to have come from Mars, likely in this fashion.

“You can imagine small astronauts sitting inside this rock, surviving the journey,” says Avi Loeb, an astrophysicist at Harvard University and director of the school’s Institute for Theory and Computation. “Microbes could potentially move from one planet to another, from Mars to Earth, from Earth to Venus.”

(You may recognize Loeb’s name from his recent book Extraterrestrial: The First Sign of Intelligent Life Beyond Earth, which garnered headlines and criticism from astronomers for its claim that our solar system was recently visited by extraterrestrials.)

Loeb has authored a number of papers probing the mechanics of panspermia, looking at, among other things, how the size and speed of space objects might affect their likelihood of transferring life. While Loeb still thinks it’s more likely that life originated on Earth, he says his work has failed to rule out the possibility that it came from somewhere else in space.

Meanwhile, recent experiments have suggested that earthly organisms can survive in space, at least for a little while. Experiments aboard the EXPOSE-E facility at the International Space Station have subjected bacteria, lichens and plant seeds to the extreme cold and radiation of space for anywhere from a few days to over a year. Some bacteria and other organisms were able to survive the journey, including tardigrades, ultra-hardy animals found everywhere from Arctic ice to the deep ocean.

If an asteroid or comet is large enough, microbes could be frozen deep within, Loeb says.

That could protect them from radiation and the extreme temperatures that turn meteors into fireballs. After they explode onto the surface of a new world, these extraterrestrial colonists could begin to thrive.

In other solar systems, panspermia could be even more likely to occur than in our own. For example, the seven tightly packed planets of the TRAPPIST-1 system, discovered in 2016, might be ideal for life to planet-hop. If we find life there one day, Loeb says, we should pay attention to whether it all looks suspiciously similar. He thinks two neighboring planets with similar biological systems would be a sure sign that life had traveled between them at some point.

Originally published on https://www.astronomy.com

COMING UP!!

(Wednesday, January 8th, 2025)

"DID LIFE CAME FROM STARS??"

#astronomy #outer space #alternate universe #astrophysics #universe #spacecraft #white universe #space #parallel universe #astrophotography

64 notes · View notes

elegy-if · 2 years ago

Text

For the very first time in years, you’re met with the scent of fresh air. No antiseptic, no lingering smell of blood, still so thick you can practically taste it at just the memory of it. You’re not going back if it kills you. Which it very well might.

DEMO: LINK (UPDATED DECEMBER 8TH, 2023.)

Nemisi is an 18+ modern horror/romance/urban fantasy interactive novel WIP. Play as a customizable MC, who’s on the run from Vicelie Labs.

The struggle between cosmic deities — now worshiped (or abhorred) as gods — tore its way into your planet not long before you were born. Unluckily for you, you were one of the first generations to be born exposed to Excinate, the name given to the radioactive-like sickness that comes from being exposed to magic not of your world. As your symptoms slowly got worse and worse, you were promptly ripped from your family after a doctor’s visit ushered on by your concerned parents. Since then, you’ve been shipped around and transported from facility to facility to be poked and prodded at.

Until now. No, now you’re free.

Aside from that lingering hunger for flesh you’ve had since becoming infected, of course. Just a little side effect from the radiation, along with a mouthful of jagged teeth and a jaw that can unhinge like a snake.

THE CAST:

Refs for RO skin tones can be found here!

Felix (he/she, bigender + bisexual): Curt, blunt, and too tired to deal with this mess, Felix really had no reason to suspect the lab next to gas station he works night shifts at had anything to hide. It’s not like the screams he heard coming from that direction were anything more than some kids messing around late at night, right? Besides, she'd met some of the employees of Vicelie Labs, and aside from the occasional lingering scent of blood, they seemed like just fine people.

Okay, so maybe she did have a sneaking suspicion something was up. Not like he could do anything about it. Not until you show up, at least, crashing through the gas station door in such a tizzy you’d nearly run into it.

Tall and lanky, Felix often has a scowl spread across her face. He has tawny brown skin, dark brown eyes, and poorly bleached hair with quite a bit of jet black root growth. His hair is styled into a shaggy wolf cut, and of course one can’t forget the shitty stubble she’s refused to shave since it grew in. Felix has a body that might often be described as scrawny, or perhaps even gangly. A strong gust of wind could knock him over. Felix is most often seen in casual clothes; hoodies, band shirts, and jeans make up the majority of her wardrobe. Has several piercings; a bridge, septum, both nostrils, snake bites, and two eyebrow piercings side by side. She stands at 5’11” tall. Felix is trans no matter what. He will always use both he and she pronouns interchangeably. Please do not use they/them to refer to her.

Dr. Eden Neal (gender selectable, M/F/NB): Kind, but awkward. A doctor who didn’t know what they were getting into when applying for a job with Vicelie Labs. Fresh out of med school, the harsh reality of the labs was too much for them. They were assigned to examine you, and though it was hard to trust them at first (and even now) they were essential in your escape.

While Eden seems to be a kind soul, your bitter side can’t help but wonder if their assistance in your escape was some cruel joke.

Combined with their soft, rounded features, Eden’s dark hair is in long braids, often pulled back out of their face into a ponytail. They have large golden brown eyes with thick eyelashes, and their skin is a deep brown, with a hint of a cool undertone. More soft than muscle, though they still have some tone and definition to their arms and back. It’s not easy work lifting and moving those heavy vats around the lab, after all. Eden is most typically seen in a lab coat, though they lean a bit more business casual once they start meeting up with you for check-ins after your escape. They stand at 5’4”, regardless of gender. Eden is black, with dark skin.

Sable (gender selectable, M/F/NB): A bit of an outcast, Sable is an extremely shy mortician, and one of your (limited) options for getting the flesh you so desperately crave. They spot you sneaking into the morgue one night, half lucid and drunk with the need for blood and flesh on your tongue. They offer to cut a deal with you — they’ll give you all the scraps and leftovers that they can get away with, so long as you give them any information you’ve picked up about the consequences of using cosmic magic.

Are they seeking power, or just simply curious about the consequences of magic from a biological standpoint?

Sable is one of the tallest RO’s, standing at 6’2” regardless of gender. They have a bright shock of long, curly ginger hair, and their near ghostly pallor is covered in freckles and beauty marks. Most notably, they have beauty marks to the right of their bottom lip, as well as underneath their left eye. They have a long, roman nose with a prominent bridge and blue eyes. Their body is on the heavier side, with a soft stomach and thick thighs. Sable doesn’t dress to impress as they’re mostly surrounded by dead bodies, typically wearing neutral colored slacks and skirts. They occasionally spice things up with an interesting vest or tie, but are much too scared to stand out to do so often. They have circle glasses. Sable is plus size, with a pear shaped figure.

Eris (gender selectable, M/F/NB): A hired killer, and the only other option you have for sating your hunger besides Sable. You meet Eris as you’re hiding away from Vicelie Labs in Eden's apartment, drawn to the smell of blood from them finishing up one of their “contracts” in the apartment next door. It’s a mess of guts and gore, and you can’t stop yourself from indulging. After a moment of awareness, you go to turn tail and run, only to find Eris still there. They have an offer for you — they’ll kill for you, and you can have at their fresh meat. Certainly an offer that’s hard to pass up, considering your current predicament.

Perpetually masked, you’re actually not certain what Eris looks like behind it. From what you can see, they’re very sturdy. All you can see besides their build is their hair, occasionally peeking out from beneath their hood. It falls to Eris’ wide shoulders, and from what you’ve seen is a dark brown. They stand at 6'0" tall, regardless of gender.

???: You’ve only heard of them in passing at the lab — someone who goes after rogue assets, like you. According to Eden, they’re after you, and with a vengeance.

Good luck.

#nemisi if #nemisi #interactive fiction #interactive novel #twine #twine game #twine wip #twine interactive fiction #horror if #horror interactive fiction #interact if #interact-if #<- idk the right tag orz #if: intro #if: nemisi #if wip #if game

501 notes · View notes