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m00nslippers · 5 years

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Everyone Crushing on Jason 2

Today is my birthday, and I’ve got a present for you all! It’s chapter 2 of the ECoJ AU! Later tonight I’m going to post the first on AO3 under the title Jay-Crazy, then a few days later I will add this chapter tow it and then all future chapters will be simulposted. So I hope you all enjoy this slice of complete crack.

If you missed Chapter 1, it’s here.

- - -

“Holy shit, who is that?” Hal demanded of Barry, jabbing his friend with his elbow to get the hero's attention.

They were in the Watchtower Satellite after routing a poorly orchestrated alien invasion attempt. Even compared to the usual morons that thought they could conquer Earth despite it's super-powered protectors, it had been especially inept and the whole endeavor had barely made it to the ground. Martian Manhunter, Cyborg and the Watchtower scanners had detected the alien vessels quickly and, once hostility was ascertained, the satellite and vacuum-hardy heroes like the Kryptonians and Lanterns lit their asses up. A small force managed to slip by their attacks and make it to the Earth, but according to MM, a hastily dispatched contingent of available JLA members mopped them up easily enough. Hal hadn't heard any of the reports, was actively avoiding them to be honest, but everyone seemed to have come out of the incident alright except the bad guys, so he'd say everyone in participation had earned a beer, especially himself for being a front-line badass. Too bad he was stuck on the Watchtower until the all-clear went through.

He and Barry had just managed to dodge an after-action report with ugh Batman and were loitering in the infirmary—partly because Barry suggested they should be around in case anyone needed more hands with the injured, but mostly because Hal had found out the Bat was allergic to medical care—when Hal's eyes had zoned-in like a laser on the most exquisite pair of tits he'd ever seen on a man.

Jesus that chest was toned! Hal didn't know what kind of exorcize gave a guy pecs developed enough to spill out of your hand, but this guy was doing them and clearly never skipped. Hal was damn near hypnotized as he watched the man strip out of thigh holsters and shrug out of black reinforced-Kevlar body armor that zipped up from the back, revealing a body like a battle axe, hard, cut and stacked, shoulders broad and muscular. The man's legs were insane, his thighs were bigger than Hal's head! He looked like he could dead-lift Hal with one hand and Hal was suddenly wishing the guy would try.

Hal had pretty much been sold before he managed to take in the full package, but lighting on the guy's face Hal realized he was young, in his early to mid twenties, and almost painfully good-looking, even with the domino mask obscuring his eyes. His hair was dark and had a hint of a wave, longer on the top of his head and short at the sides, and at his temple was an interesting streak of white. His face was long and he had a wide, dynamic mouth that was on the verge of a snarl as he argued something with—oh, hey, Nightwing! Damn, he'd been so distracted with the view that he somehow missed that Nightwing, AKA the best ass in the entire vigilante community, was trying to stitch up a nasty three-inch gash in the mystery man's side that should have curbed Hal's arousal but somehow just made him hotter. Yeah, Hal liked the battle-worn and sweaty look all of a sudden.

Barry squinted where Hal was staring (he assumes, Hal refused to look away from those drool-worthy abs, squeezable pecs and powerful arms and back muscles that had him drooling a puddle on the infirmary floor). Luckily his friend had an answer for him because Hal needed a name to put to that amazing piece of real estate ripe for the tapping that had presented itself before him.

Barry's voice was incredulous as he answered, “That's Red Hood. You know, the guy we all voted into the JLA two nights ago?”

Eh, Hal never paid attention at those things. “Remind me, will you?”

“Gotham Vigilante. Like Nightwing, he used to be Robin. He was a bit of a villain until a few years ago, but he's cleaned up his act and Batman vouched for him—which is all information you should know if you listened at the meetings,” Barry complained. “Don't tell me you voted for someone without knowing anything about them again, Hal...”

Hal tore his gaze away from the smoking hot Red Hood so he could roll his eyes at Barry. “Does it really matter? You listen to the boring stuff and look into all these people and I just vote what you vote.”

Barry sighed, wearily shaking his head. “Hal, that's not--”

Hal raised his fingers to Barry's lips and cut his friend off mid-sentence. “Shh—Daddy's on the prowl,” he whispered and bobbed his eyebrows suggestively.

The speedster's wince was clearly communicated despite his mask as he shoved Hal's hand away from his mouth. “Please don't let me ever hear you refer to yourself as 'Daddy' again, Hal. I'm begging you.”

Hal smirked and clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Begging me, huh? Don't let Iris hear about this, she'll be jealous.”

“Why are we friends again? I can't say anything to you,” Barry mused, covering his face in embarrassment, ready to phase through the floor to disappear from the conversation.

“Don't know, but here is where I leave you, pal.” Hal gave a lazy two-fingered salute and grinned. “I've got a pair of pants to get into or die trying—and the pants don't belong to me!”

“I don't even know what to say...” he heard Barry profess as Hal smoothed his hair and strode confidently across the infirmary floor to where his future—Boyfriend? Sex friend? Morning regret? He'd take what he could get, honestly—had an arm resting on Nightwing's back while the other vigilante was underneath it, bent over his side, putting stitches into the long red gash across the man's ribs. And honestly it spoke to the power, or maybe just the novelty, of his new obsession that he wasn't drifting behind Nightwing to get a view of his fantastic booty, but was marching straight up to Red Hood, ignoring Nightwing almost entirely.

But no sooner had he stepped up to the plate then Guy Goddamn Gardner stepped out in front of him with his dumb red hair and his cocksure strut, cutting off his path.

“Hey, is that your jacket, there? Looks nice,” his rival Lantern said, nodding to a brown leather jacket laying on the medical cot next to Red Hood.

Guy's head blocked his view as he raised a brow in disbelief. 'Hey, is that your jacket, there'? 'Looks nice'? What kind of opening line was that? The hell was Guy playing at?

The Red Hood looked up from where he'd been scowling at the floor—damn, his scowl was mean, it was freaking hot—to eye Guy with the confused incredulity such a stupid ice-breaker deserved.

“Uh, thanks?” Hood said, sounding confused as to why anyone was talking to him, which was vaguely adorable to Hal for some reason. “'s kinda breezy, though. Gotta few bullets holes I haven't patched up yet.”

Hal thought he was going to melt into the floor. Shit, even Red Hood's voice was hot. On the deeper end of baritone with a street-sounding drawl Hal had only ever heard in movies because most people didn't actually have accents that strong.

Gotham vigilante, huh? He sure sounded like it. Hal usually had a 'no Bats' policy when it came to pretty much everything in his life he could manage, but this guy seemed different, more chill, more down to Earth than the usual Bat—or maybe Hal was just making excuses to justify sucking face with the guy. Whatever, he wasn't about to question it. The dick wants what the dick wants.

“Yeah, I used to do the whole leather jacket biker-schtick,” Guy said, his usual cockiness leaking into his tone as he flipped up the collar to his vest as if he actually thought he looked cool emulating a 60s greaser. He pointed a thumb at himself with pride as he said, “I incorporated it into my Lantern uniform and everything. It's a one of a kind style in the corps.” Hal could hear the attempt at a smolder in Guy's voice as it dropped half an octave and he praised, “I bet it doesn't look as good on me as it does on you, though.”

Red Hood's expression slanted into bafflement, mind clearly whirring as he processed the words spoken to him, turning them over every which way before hitting on the realization that he'd just been hit on. All at once Red Hood's cheeks blushed pink and he reached a hand up to tug through his hair anxiously, almost as if he wasn't used to people pulling out corny one-liners trying to get his attention and he had no idea what to do about it. It was so damn cute that Hal's brain momentarily ceased to function. Hal was stunned, amazed, incredibly turned on. What the hell, how does someone who looked like they could punch a hole in a car door, no powers necessary, and shoot you without remorse, look that sweet and innocent? It would be wrong if it wasn't so sexy.

Crap, he couldn’t let this go on. Hal had to get in there and break this up or he was going to be shown up by freaking Guy Gardner of all people, and that was something he simply couldn’t allow, especially when someone this good-looking was on the line.

“Okay, move over Horatio, the real Green Lantern has arrived,” Hal said, reaching out to physically maneuvered Guy out of his way before the other Lantern realized what was happening. Taking advantage of the opening, Hal swooped in to his place in front of the delectable Red Hood, whose eyes flicked from Guy to Hal and back quickly, with the almost creepy assessing intelligence that Gotham vigilante's were known for.

Hal offered a hand and his most dazzling smile. “Hi, Red Hood? I'm Hal Jordan, AKA Green Lantern, AKA Earth's first and best Green Lantern, AKA one of the JLA's founding members. I hear you just got accepted into the league, congrats! I bet you'll be a worthy addiction—I mean, addition, around here. Maybe after Wings finishes fixing you up I could show you around? I know all the best spots to avoid Batman.”

The Red Hood didn't take his hand but his mouth stretched into a lop-sided grin, a thing of brightness with a hint of mischief that had Hal going weak in the knees and he didn't know what he said to get said smile but damn was he going to enjoy it. Red Hood snorted in amusement. “'All the best spots to avoid Batman', huh? Maybe I'll take you up on tha—ow!”

Red Hood scowled down at Nightwing who was glaring at the Red Hood's wound as he tied off his stitches. “Oops,” he deadpanned, sliding his disapproving gaze Hal's way. Hal narrowed his eyes back, not sure when the guy had put on that party-pooper bat-look Hal hated, but now he suddenly couldn’t forget the other vigilante had worn the cowl of his greatest rival, world-class busybody Bruce Wayne. He'd always liked Nightwing better in the role of the big bat—he was more laid back, he cracked jokes even if they were mostly stupid puns—but he might have to reassess that opinion. Apparently Nightwing had picked up a thing or two from his mentor. Specifically, how to make Hal feel like scum for breathing.

Hal opened his mouth to ask Nightwing why he was here and what his relationship even was with Red Hood, but before he could confront his potential cockblock, Guy grabbed Hal by the arm and dragged him away to the corner of the room with a mumbled, “Excuse us, guys...” as Hal complained, “Hey, easy on the goods there, Guy!”

As soon as they were out of ear-shot, Guy rounded on Hal with fury in his face. His usually pale complexion was flushed red with anger and embarrassment, twin to his fiery red hair.

Guy shoved Hal hard enough to rock him back on his heels, whisper-shouting, “What the hell, Jordan! Why you gotta butt into my business?”

Hal scoffed. “Your business? No no no, I let you have first crack, but now it's my turn.”

Guy snorted and got in his face, as if he actually thought he could back down the GL Corps original 'man without fear' with his inadequate self. Please, Guy wasn't even close to his level. “You didn't let me do anything, Jordan. I saw him first and you just shoved your way in, like an asshole!”

Hal threw up his hands, unrepentant. “Hey, the man has a right to make his own choices, and clearly the better choice is yours truly. I'm just presenting him the option of my amazing self.”

Guy looked ready to strangle him with his bare hands, which was pretty typical of the man. “Why do you always have to be number one, huh Jordan?” he demanded and an edge of pleading entered his voice that put a momentary damper on Hal's sense of entitlement. “I might have found my soulmate here, why can't you just let me have this?”

Hal frowned, suddenly uncertain. Did Guy know Red Hood previously and have some relationship with him Hal didn't know? Was there some connection between the two that Hal was selfishly getting in the middle of?

“Soulmate?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest and regarding his fellow Lantern with skeptical but open ears. “You think Red Hood is the one, huh? What makes you think that?”

Guy's face turned dreamy-eyed and dopey as he explained, “I saw him right-hook an alien in the jaw, take the goon's own gun and blast his face off in a quarter of a second, then back-flip off a car and detonate an explosion that wiped out a landing craft. I fell in love instantly Hal, this is the real deal, man!”

Oh, so he didn't have a connection, Guy was just being typical Guy.

Hal rolled his eyes, unimpressed. “He's not your soul-mate, you just saw him do something badass and now your smitten!”

“Well you just saw him take off his shirt and now your smitten,” Guy countered with a snarl, “At least my reason isn't superficial!”

Hey, physical attraction was usually the first step to a relationship, or so he'd heard somewhere. It was human nature to see a hot body and go after it. “There's nothing wrong with—”

“Hey!” Hal heard as someone snapped their fingers in front of his nose and he looked over to see another fellow Lantern, Kyle Rayner, gracing both of his predecessors with something like irritated disbelief. “Are you two seriously fighting over Jason Todd of all people?”

“So his name is 'Jason Todd'?” Guy perked up, voice soft, “I love it. It just perfectly captures his, like, his everything, and—”

Hal shook his head. “Words are not your strong suit Guy, just stop.” Please.

Kyle pinched the bridge of his nose beneath his Green Lantern's mask, wearing a pained look as he said, “Okay, let's just put on hold the absurdity that is anyone thinking that dickhead Todd is attractive enough to pursue despite his garbage fire of a personality--”

“Woah, that's a bit harsh Rayner,” Hal said with a raised eyebrow, taken aback by the fierceness of Kyle's insult. What the heck? The kid was usually so nice. What did he have against the other man, how did he even know him?

“—aside from all the obvious reasons Todd is a bad idea,” Kyle went on, ignoring him. “If you're really interested, then you guys have way bigger problems than each other.”

Guy crossed his arms and tilted his head in question. “The heck are you talking about?”

Kyle jerked a thumb behind him and Hal looked over his shoulder to find the object of his and Guy's affections, Red Hood, one Jason Todd, was crowded by no less than Supergirl, Superboy, Booster Gold, Arsenal and Starfire, as Nightwing and Orphan hovered nearby like stodgy nannies. Kara had actually latched onto one of Red Hood's arms like a leach and was pressing her breasts against the man's biceps as she covertly ran her eyes all over him, no doubt putting her Kryptonian x-ray vision to good use (so unfair). Superboy—the older one, Kent's kinda-clone, not his kid—was trying to shove Kara out of the way and insert himself into the conversation, but the girl was clinging fast and refused to let go. Booster Gold was yacking and gesticulating, trying to draw attention to himself, but Red Hood seemed to be ignoring him in favor of chatting with Green Arrow's old partner and the Tamaranean princess who were looking way too friendly, with Starfire's hand on his shoulder and Arsenal poking at his ribs, as Red Hood swatted back.

“What the hell is this?” Hal demanded, the unfairness of it all pissing him off. “We were there first, come on!”

“I was there first,” Guy corrected and clicked his tongue angrily. “Man, this is freaking bullshit. This is all your fault, Jordan!”

Hal huffed, indignant. “My fault? You're the one who dragged us away! If you hadn't we—”

“Seriously guys, don't fight over the Red Hood. He's the worst,” Kyle spat with an uncharacteristic vehemence. “He thinks with his gun instead of his head and he's a broody goth-nerd lone-wolf-wannabe who he doesn't know when to quit!”

Guy's face screwed up in confusion. “What's your angle here, Kyle? You're just making him sound hotter.”

Kyle put a hand on Guy's shoulder, inviting him to listen closely as he explained, “Look, he's not hot—I mean, yeah he is, he's like crazy hot—but he's not, trust me.”

Guy looked like his brain was struggling to keep up with Kyle's non-logic. Actually, Hal's was too. “You are making no sense,” Hal informed the kid.

Kyle didn't look especially bothered. “Just don't fight, okay? Seriously, I'll sic John on you.”

Oh, not John Stewart-stick-in-the-mud! He'd shut down their whole operation like the by-the-book buzzkill he was! Damn, when did Rayner get so bitter? The kid was still in his twenties but he was already old and jaded and wise to he and Guy's ways.

“Woah, calm down,” Hal said evenly, as if soothing a potential jumper away from the edge. “We don't need to get John involved. We're cool, right Guy?”

Guy was a bit closer to John than Hal was, so he wasn't sure if the other Lantern would back his play on keeping the third Lantern out of it, but Guy also seemed to realize they needed to think smart here.

“Yeah, we can act civil about this. Probably,” Guy said, fluttering his lashes innocently.

Okay, 'smart' was relative.

Kyle rolled his eyes, not in the least sorry that he was trying to ruin their day with a lecture from John about GL solidarity and keeping your mind out of the gutter, or whatever rules the architect-ex-Marine followed to keep his nose so damn clean.

“Yeah, sure you can,” was Kyle's skeptical retort. The younger man rolled his shoulders wearily and finally seemed to let up on the oppressive tone. “Well, I'm out of here—they sent out the all-clear, no casualties, so I'm flying to my apartment to crash.”

“Okay, goodnight, I guess. Good work out there,” Hal said by way of a goodbye.

The younger Lantern smiled back, suddenly more himself. “Thanks. You guys too.” As he started to walk away Kyle hesitated and stabbed a finger their way, saying, “And if you take my advice you'll stay away from Todd.”

With that, Kyle set off toward the door, only pausing as he walked passed Red Hood and his accumulated admirers to sling a snarky, “Not dead yet, asshole? Shame.”

Jason immediately reacted, throwing up a middle finger as he tossed out a, “Fuck you, Bitch-Lantern,” that sounded almost playful. “I've already come back once, what makes you think I wouldn't rise up from the grave just to kick your ass?”

Kyle was still walking towards the door, yelling back, “I'd like to see you try, Failure-Robin.”

“Suck a dick, Rayner, I could bend you in half,” Jason retorted easily.

“I've got a piece of alien jewelry that says otherwise.”

“I bet your ring runs out of power before I run out of bullets.”

Kyle huffed. “Pff, whatever.” He turned the corner out the door with a much more friendly, “See ya nerd.”

Red Hood rolled his eyes and flapped a dismissive hand at him. “See ya geek.”

Hal stared wide-eyed and dazed in Kyle's wake. The hell was all that? How the heck did Kyle know Red Hood, Jason Todd? And what was with all the belligerent sexual tension? Did he have to worry about Kyle now too? Damn it, this was getting out of hand!

“That kid's a problem,” Hal muttered darkly.

Guy looked like he had somehow fallen even deeper in love after hearing his crush shout at Kyle to suck a dick. “Shit, this is bad,” he said and Hal wasn't entirely sure what Guy meant by it, but he was also certain that the man was correct.

“I hate to say it, but I agree.” Hal chewed his lip, for the first time beginning to think this wouldn't be an open and shut case of show-up-get-laid. He might actually have to work for his prize. It would probably be worth it, though. God, but he could die happy crushed between those beefy thighs.

“Maybe we should...I don't know, join forces or something,” Guy offered.

Hal frowned. “How would that work?”

Guy raised both brows and pointed at himself with a deprecating chuckle. “You're asking me?”

Of course, what was he thinking? “Good point, um...” Hal thought a moment before he said, “How about...we share information and give each other space to work, but everyone else is the enemy. If either of us land him we back off.”

Guy nodded. “I'm game. Truce?”

“Truce,” Hal answered. They sealed their alliance with a fist bump, ring to ring, and both Lantern rings sparked green briefly. Hal and Guy dropped their hands and moved to regard their competition with zealous scrutiny.

“Right,” Hal said after a moment to strategize. “Now let's get in there. You try to push out Booster and the ex-Titans and I'll take the Supers.”

Guy punched a fist into his hand and grinned, ready for a brawl. “Got it.”

#ECoJ AU #Everyone Crushing on Jason AU #Chapter 2 #Jason Todd #Red Hood #robin #Hal Jordan #Guy Gardner #Kyle Rayner #Green Lantern #dick grayson #Nightwing #JayKyle #JayHal #JayGuy #fanfic #Justice League #crack #jason todd rarepairs

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delciasustains · 4 years

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In the last two years, I have spent $0 on menstrual products, and produced <1 lb of menstrual waste.

Yes, you read that right.

So, how did I do it?

I present to you: the Menstrual Cup and the Reusable Pad

The Menstrual Cup

The menstrual cup is, arguably, one of the most just and unifying products out there. In all reality, there is no reason to oppose a menstrual cup aside from the brief training period (which often involves the “I think it’s stuck” phase and quite a lot of hands-on activity in the shower) and its original cost (which is roughly $39.99 for the Diva Cup brand). So maybe in the past 2 years I have spent $40 for a menstrual cup, but overall I’m not counting that into my total. ;) All in all, this product reduces waste, doesn’t involve putting treated cotton or other strange/harsh chemicals in your precious va-jay-jay, and lasts a long time.

While this has definitely been the ‘talk around town’ in terms of empowering environmentalism and ecofeminism, the menstrual cup definitely is a bang for the buck. Not only is it reusable for up to 10 years, but they can be used for up to 12 hours (with no risk of TSS!)

(Source)

So, how do I wash and take care of mine?

1. Evening showers I will put my diva cup in in the morning and remove it during an evening shower, where I can easily dump all of its lovely contents down the drain. Huzzah <3 If you are trying to reduce your showers, or have varying shower times, you can easily take it out and empty it over a toilet, but it is much messier and involves having to actively run to a sink with diva cup in hand. I have done this multiple times, but still will opt for the evening shower. Then, I wash it with some Castile soap or whatever I have on-hand and hang/rest it to dry until morning. <3 In the meantime (i.e. overnight) I will use a reusable pad, which I will discuss more below.

Diva cups are also a fantastic option for overnight use, so do not hesitate to put it right back in after emptying it in the evening! However, regardless of how often you empty and reinsert, make sure to wash it once daily, and with a gentle/non-fragrance cleanser.

On that note, it can be recognized that we are all different shapes and sizes, and this product may not have the best fit for everyone. I am one of those people, and my diva cup is regularly leaking on me. I have been using them for 2 years, and I have purchased almost all of the sizes, and it still leaks here and there. Luckily, I have found a zero-waste and low-budget solution for that too!

The Reusable Pad

Reusable bamboo pads have to be one of my favorite products as well. Not only are they super comfy and often come in cute designs, they are also much better for you and the environment (lasting up to 5 years!). These bad boys are able to absorb a hefty amount of fluids, while also locking away moisture and bacteria unlike anything a one-time use pad could do because they are made higher quality and with no plastic! However, these products are trickier for women to get the hang of, so here are tips and tricks for how I have done it for the past few years.

How do you wash it? Isn’t that pretty gross?

While the idea of wringing blood out of a pad sounds pretty gnarly, it is actually not bad at all (and something most women in the world still do today!) Of course, if you take it off and tuck it away in some bathroom cabinet, then it won’t be a surprise if it gets a little gnarly. However, this is my step-by-step guide to maintaining yours in the easiest way possible

1. Wear it when you need it! - I’m the type of person who leaks form my menstrual cup typically on day 1 and day 2, but after that I’m gucci! Sometimes, I’ll just wear black underwear and call it good (lol!) I also wear a reusable pad at night instead of a diva cup. Because of this, I tend to use about 4-6 in the first few days of my period, and I’m lucky enough to have fairly light and short periods. I would suggest purchasing a pack of 7 or more reusable pads, since we tend to push the laundry until the end of the week.

2. Wear for no longer than a few hours This is going to depend woman to woman and on flow/day of the week, but if it starts getting uncomfortable or odd-smelling, then it’s time to wash! Often times, if you simply do not have time to wash them right away, you can place them in a sealed bag (and folded) until you’re ready to wash them. Be warned though - you don’t want to leave them in there for too long because I can promise you, things will grow!!! Right after use (or if you want to wait until the evening when you’re all settled) you will want to rinse and wash all of them. So, how do you wash them?

3. Washing!

You will want to submerge them in water and wring the blood out, until the sink bowl water starts to run clear. Then, you can take soup (literally any soap -- I use Castile soap sometimes or literally just hang soap sitting by the sink) and rub it into the pad. Sometimes, I scrub in circular motions with my fingernails or finger pads, and it helps to pull out anything left in there.

Afterward, you can submerge it a few times again, and push soap and water out from one end to the other (down the length of the pad). This helps ensure you are running water through it.

Lastly, wring it and hang it in a breathable place! While they can be used again after they are dry, I personally only wash them to prevent any smell or bacteria until laundry day, and will throw them into my hamper when they’re dry. Sometimes, I will also wash all of them right before doing laundry. They are washer and dryer machine safe!

Over time, you get the hang of washing them, and of knowing when to wash them too!

Okay, I’m convinced. Where do I buy them?

While I personally got mine from Amazon and spent about $20 on them, I would encourage everyone to locally source their products if possible. Another friendly service which empowers small entrepreneurs is Etsy. These are some of the amazing products they provide in terms of reusable pads!:

Reusable bamboo panty liners if you spot (like I do!) and want something thin and discreet, 3 for only $8 (and they come in increments from 3-24) by creator TheRainbowEucalyptus

Overnight organic bamboo/hemp/cotton pads for $8.50, including a variety of customizable lengths! by creator sacredspiralcreation

Organic bamboo charcoal fleece variety pads, by creator MamaBearBabyWear. There’s so many options!!

Conclusion

Hopefully this information provides insight into my zero-waste menstruation process, and inspires you to make that shift as well! While sometimes people ask “why wash pads so often?” or are reluctant to use products like menstrual cups and reusable pads because of the direct nature of them, I believe it gets us in touch with our body, our bodily autonomy, and staying attuned to our bodily processes. Yes, it’s easy to just throw a tampon in and call it good (and not even have to get your hands dirty!) but then it is much more difficult to see flow cues and even cues your body may be telling you. If the environmentally-friendly, empowerment, and cost-friendly aspects aren’t enough to convince you, imagine being able to constantly brag about not having spent a penny on menstrual products for years to come! Score!

Overall, I would recommend these products, and I am always available through messages or [email protected] if anyone has any questions or would like to talk about it. Good luck on your sustainability journey!!

#delciasustains #delciastudies #sustainblr #tumblr #sustainability #eco friendly #menstrual cups #diva cups #reusable pads #reusable bamboo pads

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theconservativebrief · 6 years

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Gettin’ the Band Together, now playing on Broadway at the Belasco Theatre, is an original musical about a down-and-out stockbroker who gets his high school band back together in time to face off against his old rival in his New Jersey hometown’s Battle of the Bands.

That’s it. That’s the whole show. On paper, it sounds pretty boring: a stockbroker? An all-dude rock band? From Jersey? Is this really what the world needs in 2018?

But I suspected there must have been some reason that in this age of high-glitz adaptations of movies and other blockbusters, this unassuming original rock musical had struggled its way from a small-town Jersey stage to Broadway, and so I set out for the Belasco hoping to find magic and wisdom and a reflection of the self, or at the very least a fun evening.

The onstage story of Gettin’ the Band Back Together is a basic battle of good and evil — of following dreams versus settling for mundanity — playing out in song and dance. As a fellow theatergoer who’d already seen the show described it, it’s basically the movie Dodgeball but with rock music. And that’s not a bad thing, unless you hate fun.

Gettin’ the Band Back Together is a warm, infectious delight. Yes, it’s true that the show has been prominently panned because its shamelessly tropey plot is packed with dorky, improv-style humor that constantly pelts you with silly jokes, visual gags, cheesy puns, physical comedy, and references to other rock musicals. But it works anyway, because it’s performed with deep joy, it’s extremely well-sung, and it’s delivered with charm by an ensemble having the time of their lives. If you let all of these things speak to you, as you should, then at some point during the performance, you will inevitably reach that wonderful moment where you are laughing purely because you are laughing.

It’s this feeling that illustrates what ultimately made a lasting impression on me as I alternately laughed and cringed my way through the show: not the onstage battle between bands, but an offstage one. The musical that Gettin’ the Band Back Together is trying to be is distinctly at odds with the current Broadway culture — embodied by an unmoved audience at the performance I attended — that unfairly expects it to be something more.

The truth is that Gettin’ the Band Back Together is a delightful show. But even if it weren’t, I would be writing this review with my heart on my sleeve to tell you all to go see it, because it’s one of those musicals that earnestly strives to be exactly what it is: a good-hearted, shamelessly self-indulgent trope factory built on fun and silliness. And in this age of problematic faves and anxiety-laden media consumption, this show, practically wholesome in its throwback juvenilia, is the rare offering that isn’t going to make you feel bad for liking it — even though it’s inane.

In that spirit, it’s reminiscent of another recent tropey, heartwarming cultural offering: Netflix’s To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before. On some level, Gettin’ the Band Back Together is the movie’s Broadway equivalent — a sort of To All the Bands (or Least Rock Musicals) I’ve Loved Before. So what if its storyline is familiar? So what if it openly embraces every clichéd tale of down-and-out has-beens getting their groove back? Just like To All the Boys, its execution is solid, and its cast is charismatic. In essence, it’s a “cheesy cover band” equivalent of a rock musical. And that’s perfectly fine; after all, there’s a reason people love cheesy cover bands.

Put another way, Gettin’ the Band Back Together is one giant dad joke, if your dad were still a kid at heart, and that kid was a giant Nickelodeon fan who never got over Ren and Stimpy going downhill after season two, who secretly cried when My So-Called Life ended before Angela and Brian got together, who definitely got drunk at Bonnaroo and wrote “fuck Nickelback” on a fence while stoned; someone who, in adulthood, probably owns a Blu-ray of Drumline because he wants to be close to that movie in a physical way; someone who just wants his kid to be happy and kind and motivated by love rather than by a capitalist reading of the American dream.

The show sports a decently catchy, fun score by Mark Allen, making his Broadway debut. The cast — led by the charmingly winsome Mitchell Jarvis as Mitch, our stockbroker-cum-band reuniter, lover, dreamer, and Alex Brightman impersonator — performs it with loud conviction. But the real star of Gettin’ the Band Back Together is the book, which comes to us via veteran producer Ken Davenport and the improv comedy troupe Grundleshotz, in a literal “Hey, gang! Let’s put on a show!” process. (Among the Grundleshotz improv performers is Jay Klaitz, who doubles as Mitch’s MILF-obsessed, stoner best friend Bart.)

Grundleshotz, Davenport, and Allen have infused Gettin’ the Band Back Together with so much energy that it leaks out of the stage at random moments, punctuating an endless stream of jokes that succeed due to the sheer enthusiasm and dedication of the show’s cast, and to their own shameless silliness.

Writing down the jokes can’t translate their onstage effectiveness as a litany of Dadaist dork humor, but here are a few: There’s a dead cat. There’s a “nuns and roses” quip. There’s an R&B singer who turns love songs into domestic disputes. There’s a character whose only purpose in life is to take selfies. There’s a spray-tanned villain who drives a Pontiac Solstice and just wants to be loved. There’s a love ballad composed entirely of bad puns about police. There’s a running “your mom” gag. There’s every kind of New Jersey in-joke you can wedge into a two-hour running time. There’s a one-liner that’s such a cute, absurdist mix of juvenile humor and randomness that it literally stops the show.

I should repeat that: The songs are solid and fun, but it’s the jokes, not the songs, that you’ll remember.

Taken on their own, the jokes in Gettin’ the Band Back Together are nothing unique or exhilarating, but they work because the cast is so committed to selling them. In fact, I have rarely seen a more committed, joyous ensemble work so hard to win over a dead audience than I did during my Thursday night show. I’ve never seen a cast sing their hearts out with more glee and vibrance in the face of a crowd that clearly rejected the kind of show they were attending. Thank god for my seatmates Tyler and Bradley, who were there to see the show for the second time in a week, and who were living for Gettin’ the Band Back Together the way only we queer Broadway fans living through the homophobic cake years can.

“This is the kind of show I can take my Trump-voting brother to and we’ll bond over it,” Tyler told me before the show started.

“I cried,” Bradley added.

“It’s so dumb,” Tyler gushed to me at intermission. “It’s so dumb, isn’t it amazing?”

This show is so dumb, and it is amazing. It is so funny, so soft and joyous, that during intermission, I texted a friend who refused to come see it with me solely to upbraid her for her mistake. Meanwhile, my betrayer audience sat unmoved by the endless adorkable hilarity playing out in front of them. And every second that the sea of unenthused faces around me refused to be swept along by the ebullient hopes and dreams of a bunch of New Jersey ’90s kids who just wanted to have fun again, I resented not only them but the modern theater industry itself.

After all, only Broadway could build an American musical legacy out of exploiting camp for its cultural mileage, and yet somehow wind up increasingly abandoning ironic forms of entertainment — including “so bad it’s good” enjoyment.

In recent years, Broadway has conditioned audiences to expect either high-budget remakes with canned messages and blatant crowd-pandering (last season’s Spongebob comes to mind) or high-budget sophistication à la Dear Evan Hansen. Hell, even Gettin’ the Band Back Together, with its crop of references to aging rock artists, was designed to appeal to a certain crowd of baby boomers, to its detriment and their apathy.

But at heart, this isn’t a musical for boomers; instead, it represents and caters to the kind of media-savvy fan who fully embraces absurdity and silliness in their pop culture (the sillier, the better). As such, Gettin’ the Band Back Together desperately needs a younger audience, or at least a better older one.

Who were these people sitting around me who refused to show any enthusiasm for a stellar ensemble that served up some of the strongest group vocals I’ve heard since Evan Hansen? Who were these people who sat largely unmoved while our band of heroes rocked a bar mitzvah, reminisced about the roller coasters at Six Flags Great Adventure, and overcame numerous trials and obstacles to not only find love and happiness but receive a deus ex machina from none other than a fictional version of Aerosmith’s Joe Perry?

As it happened, a good portion of my fellow audience members had apparently come to see Gettin’ the Band Back Together because they’d received comped or discounted tickets as part of Broadway deal websites like Show Score. Through these kinds of watch-and-rate deals, some theatergoers — thanks to retirement, or sheer determination — are able to see upward of five shows a week.

That’s great for them, and ostensibly it should be good for shows that open in the summer, like this one. Late-summer Broadway openings tend to be rare for New York, because the tourist crowd doesn’t gravitate toward new releases that don’t already have strong buzz; you need New Yorkers to see those shows, and in August, they’re often away.

So these websites help fill seats during the offseason, which is a win. But it’s easy to see how they can hurt shows like this one, which wind up being viewed by an assembly line of people looking for deals first and feels second. It struck me that while teenage audiences were being encouraged, off-Broadway, to Be More Chill, on 44th Street, the cast of Gettin’ the Band Back Together was pleading with their older, middle-class audience to be less chill. And, miracle of miracles, eventually the audience at my show thawed out; gradually, more and more of them seemed to open their hearts to the silliness and sincerity of this show, its complete lack of irony and pretense, its sheer eagerness to make you laugh.

But they couldn’t have done it without my dudes Bradley and Tyler, whose constant laughter kept the orchestra section on life support all night. Late in the third act, veteran Marilu Henner, who plays Mitch’s mom with brassy warmth, came halfway up the aisle just to film the two of them — cast members breaking the fourth wall to film the audience is not an infrequent practice on Broadway these days, but rarely is it done with such specificity — as they lost their minds over the big finale number, when Mitch and the band finally play the Battle of the Bands. It’s exciting!

I was happy for them both, these pure-hearted theater lovers receiving a pure-hearted musical blessing, and feeding all their love and energy back to this hard-working, earnest cast. That is what we come to the theater for. That is Broadway at its core, stripped of size and massive budgets and pretension, until all that remains is love and communion.

At intermission, I’d overheard one of the comped five-show-a-week people say, with a shrug, “Maybe it’ll run for a few weeks.”

Fuck that.

Go see Gettin’ the Band Back Together. Enter with love and leave with laughter. May it, and all the other plucky, misunderstood musicals of its ilk, run forever.

Original Source -> Why critics are scorning new rock musical Gettin’ the Band Back Together — and why it deserves your love

via The Conservative Brief

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