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nflstreetsanimereviews · 1 year

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The Great Cleric Vol. 1 Review

Welcome to my latest edition of ‘Reading Isekai Light Novels’ – today’s edition is for Seija Musou Salaryman Isekai de Ikinokoru Tame ni Aymu Michi, known in English as The Great Cleric. The Great Cleric is due to have an anime adaptation air this summer. I know, another isekai anime, woo…anyways, there’s no reason the judge a book based on its cover. I mean, The Great Cleric’s cover is pretty good by light novel standards, but illustrations rank pretty low when it comes to what makes a light novel good. ‘Isekai’, while often garbage, doesn’t have to be garbage. The same can be said for light novels in general.

The Great Cleric’s main character, whose name on Earth is unknown, is known as Luciel in Galdardia. He’s isekaied to Galdardia after being shot and killed in Japan. Imagine being killed by a firearm in Japan! Talk about horrible luck! Even worse, Luciel, a salaryman back on Earth, was just about to get promoted! His death is seen as so unfair, the powers that be reincarnate him in Galdardia, a magical world that resembles one from an RPG. Luciel is spawned in this new world with close to zero information about its society and how it functions.

Luciel, with decades of experience in real life in the business world, decides to become a healer, since his goal in this new world is to ‘die of old age’, and because being a healer sounds like a safe job. What Luciel didn’t account for is that the reputation of healers in Galdardia is at rock bottom. Healers in Galdardia are known for their sky-high rates, which many adventurers can’t afford. Those who can pay can. Those who can’t pay don’t get healed, or are sold into slavery as repayment. In short, the most prominent healers have decided to maximize their profit margin, charge extortionary rates, and use social control in order to maintain the status quo. Good thing that only happens in fantasy worlds…well and in America too.

Unknowingly, Luciel throws a wrench into the Healing Cartel by being isekaied. Along with joining the Healer’s Guild AND the Adventurer’s Guild, he decides to start training under the tutelage of Guildmaster Brod. Brod’s training makes boot camp look like recess, but Luciel is up to the task and ready to receive daily ass-kickings. He’s doing what it takes to not get killed in this world–something he couldn’t prevent in the other world. Also, it helps when you’re able to track your progress numerically (remember, this is an RPG world). Brod, seeing what potential Luciel has, gives him a residence at the Adventurer’s Guild. For only one silver, Luciel will heal your wounds–sure beats paying thirty gold for the same treatment. Luciel’s cheap healing and non-discriminatory practices make him a favorite within the guild’s quarters.

Unfortunately, the analysis of the internal healer-adventurer struggle is only at a surface level. I can’t deny, it’s certainly interesting–but it takes a backseat to the development of Luciel. I understand why, since Luciel is the main character and all, but I can’t help to find the guild dynamics to be more luring than reading about Luciel’s months-long grindfest.

If I had to pick one thing from The Great Cleric that turned me off the most, it would be how predictable most scenes went. Luciel spends most of this volume training under Brod, which doesn’t sound bad at first–but considering each day goes about the same, it does get tiring at a point. Each day Luciel:

Gets the shit kicked out of him by Brod

Drinks ‘Substance X’, which is a grotesque concoction that’s supposed to give you a skill buff

Has a conversation or two with the ‘beastwoman’ clerks and has the same thought every time (“oh nooooo people are staring daggers at me for talking to two beautiful women for what’s probably the 400th day in a row, hope I don’t get my ass kicked!”)

The first point actually isn’t bad, considering it’s the only action that really happens in this volume. Slapstick will never be boring to me. Repetitive, but not to a point where it gets grating.

‘Substance X’, an unknown drink made by ‘The Sage of Time’, is supposed to ‘help ya grow’. Well, thankfully it does! Having the ‘Access Mastory’ skill, Luciel can see that Substance X does actually give you buffs! The only downside is that the smell and taste of Substance X is putrid–and The Great Cleric makes sure you know that every time Luciel takes a swig of it. You’d think the surprise of Luciel being able to drink what apparently is too revolting for any other person would die down after the first year of him being there, but nope. Oh well. I’m being a bit nitpicky here, but I didn’t really care to read what’s pretty much the same conversation several times.

The last point is what drove me up the wall about The Great Cleric. Luciel, despite mentally being middle-aged, has the same temperament about talking to pretty women that timid teenage boys have. Perhaps he was one at some point, but he’s a grown-up now and should know better. This is a bit of conjecture since we don’t know how our MC talked to women back on Earth. For all we know, he could be a virgin that’s never had a girlfriend! Who has time for women when you’re a salaryman? Either way, the fear that Luciel has is largely unfound. Those who ‘discriminate’ against Luciel do due to the assumption that he’s the standard money-grubbing healer that discriminates against beastpeople, something completely understandable given the reputation healers have.

All together, Luciel has pretty much recreated his salaryman job in another world. Yes, healing those for cheap is way more virtuous than being a cog in a corporate machine, but ostensibly it’s the same structure. Considering Luciel’s goal in this new world is to die of old age, this isn’t a bad deal for him. Does sticking to this routine for months on end make for good entertainment? Well, it’s a mixed bag–altogether it makes it hard for me not to give The Great Cleric the moniker ‘The Mid Cleric’, but it would be dishonest to say that it’s bad.

The Great Cleric does have the potential to be one of the isekai series to stand out from the rest–you know, like Re;Zero and Konosuba. It’s hard to see since this volume was little more than an introduction to the series, but there are genuinely some interesting parts about this series that I hope the author expands on. I have a feeling it will, since by the end of this novel, Luciel’s existence is such a thorn in the side of other healers that some attempt to get him assassinated. Luciel is pretty much a walking Urgent Care–he’s apparently the only healer that sees healing as a virtue and not as a cushy job. Again, parallels could be drawn to the American healthcare system, but that’s a whole other conversation that’s way more complicated than the way healers screw over adventurers in Galdardia.

Most of the things I complained about above (the last two points in particular) should resolve themselves as the series progresses. This volume was Luciel’s grinding time–of course reading about someone grinding isn’t that fun. It’s rarely fun to grind in games! With a change in location, Luciel’s daily routine should be shaken-up. Well, I say should. There’s always a chance that Luciel finds another Brod to train under, continues his daily routine of gulping several cups of Substance X, and continues to be frightened when attractive women talk to him. Being a light novel, I wouldn’t be surprised!

The Great Cleric does have the potential to be a good series, but I personally would wait until the anime airs to consume it. I’ve been betrayed by light novels before, so there’s no telling if the quality of the series plummets after this volume or if it actually progresses in a fashion that is engrossing. The anime will clear that up for us. Personally, I’d like to see Galdardia’s society to be expanded on. We get a nibble of it in this volume, but with Luciel being cooped up in the Adventurer’s Guild for about 90% of this volume, we’ve only explored a tiny sliver of this magical world. As I said above, this should sort itself out as the story progresses, but I’d wait until it’s animated.

60/100

#the great cleric #light novel #light novel review #review

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scuttle-buttle · 3 years

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WC: 2261

Rated: M

Tags: angst, medical issues, pregnancy complications, hurt/comfort, anxiety, brief mentions of medical procedures but no gore, nothing is technically sad, fluff, papa laszloooo

A/N: honestly tho I am sorry. also i maybe cried a little writing this, which is a first. also also everybody is fine in this it's just emotional

Blame @hardlyinteresting

🧠

"Three weeks…. Three weeks little bean…" you mumble as you rub your protruding stomach after a particularly harsh kick to your ribs. The chair was a sweet relief to your ankles after a long day at work and doing some light chores around the house all afternoon. You had three weeks until you hit 39 weeks into your pregnancy. As much as you were anxious you were ready. Ready to not feel like a bloated whale. Ready to not have sore feet. But most of all, ready to hold your baby girl.

Laszlo had been trying to convince you to take it easy and start maternity leave early, but you resisted. The last thing you were about to do is nothing. Most first pregnancies went late anyway, you'd argued, so you didn't worry about it yet. I’m pregnant, not dying - give me another week, you'd told him.

What you didn't tell him was about the headaches. Or how sore your legs were. Or how absolutely exhausted you'd been feeling the last couple weeks. Whenever he would ask if you were alright or offer a foot rub you would just brush it off as third trimester woes. You didn't want to worry him.

You were sat in an armchair in the parlor, feet propped up, damp rag over your eyes. The droning from the tv had your nerves on edge. All you wanted to do was take some tylenol and feel better, but you had been knocking back more than was probably safe the last few days so you went without.

A sudden pain shoots through you causing the rag to fall onto your chest. “Ohh...ow? OW!” You sit up straighter as the ache persists; the dull throbbing in your upper abdomen unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. Were you in labor early? Did she just kick in a bad spot? No no - surely the pain would’ve died down by now had that been the case. Unless? Can babies kick so hard they rupture something? Did my kid just bust my liver? Your thoughts run rampant as you wait, in vain, for the pain to go away. The pricking behind your eyes and in your temples only made it more hellish. Pressing your palm to the spot does nothing, nor do the breathing exercises you had been taught.

When five minutes have passed by without relief you make the choice to call out for your husband. “Laz?” No response. “Laszlo!” A beat passes; nothing. You swallow through your building nausea.

“I swear to fucking-” you growl as you snatch your phone from the end table to your left. You use all your concentration to dial his number.

It rings four times.

“Bärchen, why are you call-”

You don’t let him finish. “Something’s wrong.”

______

Head thrown back into the flat, starchy hospital pillow you groan in frustration. “permanent bedrest?” You scrub the hand not clutching your belly down your face.

The emergency room Obstetrician gives you a pitying look. “I’m afraid so - your blood pressure is high and we want to keep it under control to prevent outcomes such as pre-eclampsia. I recommend doing as little as absolutely possible; get rid of as many stressors as you can.” He flips through your chart. “You said you’ve been having headaches and fatigue for nearly two weeks? Why didn’t you come in sooner?”

Huffing, you tell him “I thought it was just part of the third trimester. Everyone always complains about how bad it is.” He hums in response.

“Well. I’m going to go take a final look at your labs, make sure everything else is fine before we discharge you. I’ll send in my Nurse Practitioner to give you the run down and anything else you’ll need to know. And should anything else like this happen again - get in here immediately.” He pats you awkwardly on the hand before nodding at Laszlo and leaving the room.

Laszlo.

Sparing a glance from the corner of your eye you see him looking towards his lap, his weaker hand cradled in the other. He’d been quiet since you admitted when your symptoms had first begun. Every single time he’d asked you how you were feeling you had lied to him. Granted, you didn’t technically know you were lying. But it makes little difference when you’re sitting in the ER. He had every reason to be upset.

“Laszlo honey,” you reach over to him. Slowly he takes your proferred hand and stands, coming to stop beside the bulky bed frame. His thumb caresses your wrist.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve examined the signs, kept a better eye on you.”

“Laz-”

“-No-”

“-I didn’t want to worry you, okay?-” Your voice breaks as you defend yourself.

“-I could’ve done something, maybe- I don't know!” His slightly raised voice startles you quiet. The pain in his eyes only makes you feel guiltier. He licks his lips. “I took the liberty of calling your mother. She will be here tomorrow afternoon and will be staying in the guest room as long as we need her.”

Now you look away, indignant. “I don’t need to be watched like I’m a child.” The tears behind your eyelids rush in; a lone drop trailing down your cheek as the embarrassment settles within your gut. You knew that at some point it was likely you would need her here. However you imagined it to be under happier circumstances. A deep inhale fails to calm your sobs. “I just- I don’t want to be a burden with all this.” Your tears flow freely now.

“My dear you could never be.” Laszlo sits on the edge of the bed. He rests his right palm above the swell of your child, his left cupping along the curve of your jaw. He tilts you to face him. “But the health of you and our girl is what is most crucial now. Let us take care of you. Please.”

A gentle kick underneath his palm from your daughter is answer enough.

__________

Two weeks. 14 days.

Lying in bed, sitting in the same spot for hours on end was actually going to be the death of you. You were sure of it.

Your mother truly has been a huge help since arriving. Laszlo wanted to start his paternity leave, but you insisted that he stay until you were closer to your due date. Which couldn’t come fast enough, you might add. Both Laszlo and your mother were prone to pestering you about some things, but at other times if you truly wanted to be alone they gave you your space. Now was one of those times. Laptop to your side, you watch another episode of Grey’s Anatomy. A knock sounds. You turn to see your husband standing in the doorway, the blood pressure monitor in arm.

He gives you a bright smile. “How are you two on this fine afternoon?”

“Cut it with the attitude, bucko. Let’s get this over with.” The words, while harsh, had little bite to them. His brow raises but he says nothing. You honestly felt bad that you’d been in a pretty foul mood since being discharged. On more than one occasion you’d said as much to Laszlo and your mother - they didn’t deserve your ire. Thankfully they understood why you were so frustrated.

You held the strap in place as he secured the velcro and started the machine. Buzzing filled the overall quiet room. Closed eyes you wait. Some days your results were higher than others. Unless you became higher than a certain threshold the doctor said you were safe to be home. At the sound of a beep Laszlo unhooks the cuff, reporting that your levels are within the acceptable range. When he goes to leave you alone you clutch at his sleeve. He waits as you peer up at him. “Stay?”

He never could say no to you.

______

Little bean’s ruthless treatment of your bladder had you up for the second time that night. You waddled to the bathroom to attend to your business and wash your hands. Glancing at the circles under your eyes in the mirror you sigh. “I love you baby bean but you’re giving me a run for my money here, kid,” you whisper as you rub your stomach. Three days, you remind yourself.

The floor creaks as you shuffle back to bed. Suddenly, an odd warm trickling sensation travels down your legs. “What the fuck?” Looking down around your bulging bump you find yourself standing in a small puddle, the glint of the bathroom night light reflecting off the surface. “Shit okay…ah Laszlo? Hey, I need you to wake up.”

He grumbles. With a roll of your eyes you walk over and shake him awake. “Hey- what-” he sits up instantly and blinks at you. “Is everything alright?”

“My water broke.”

He hops into action right away. Moving you to sit on the bed, he pulls out his cell phone to call your doctor. As he talks you watch him move around the room, the phone wedged between his ear and shoulder, as he collects your hospital supplies. You feel useless as you sit. Yet, you know that your priority needs to be keeping yourself calm and that moving around could exacerbate your condition.

He hangs up. Coming to stand in front of you he presses a kiss to your forehead; “I’ll go wake your mother. Don’t move, Liebling.”

As you sit you blow out a long breath. You look down at your bump. “Guess you decided you’re ready to go, huh kid?” The tip of your fingers brush along the side of your stomach. “I know we’re ready for you too. We’re going to love you so much, and your daddy? He’s gonna be the best, you’ll see.” Placing your palms flat she nudges you from within.

_____

The doctors decided that a c-section was the safest route. You both knew it was a possibility, but you had hoped that after weeks of bedrest that your blood pressure would balance out enough for a natural delivery. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. They monitored you for an hour before your contractions began, officially confirming you were in fact in active labor and dilating. After the fourth hour your blood pressure began to spike again. That’s when they decided to prep you for the procedure.

The operation went smoothly. The atmosphere of the surgical suite was tense with your nerves, but Laszlo’s calming words and his hand squeezing yours kept the anxiety from spilling over. You even found it in you to poke fun at how ridiculous he looked in the puffy blue elastic hair cap he wore.

When the first cries rang out you nearly tried to hop off the table to see your baby. The doctors worked quickly to ensure you were in proper condition while the infant was cleaned.

“Dad? Would you like to come and cut the cord?” one of the nurses calls out.

Laszlo looks back at them before turning to face you. He searches your eyes for a moment; “go,” you nod with a smile. You watch as he did what the nurses instructed as best you could, her soft wails echoing in the small room. He returns to you right after while they finish wrapping her up in a blanket.

“She’s beautiful my dear,” your professor confesses. He leans to give you a lingering kiss. “I’m so unbelievably proud of you.”

“I love you so much.”

“As I love you.”

The doctor interrupts your moment. “Would you like to hold your baby girl?” The question is directed at you, but you look over to your husband. The man you love more than life itself. He stares at the little bundle as if she’s the most incredible sight he’s ever laid eyes on. He can’t take his gaze off her. His irises sparkle with unshed tears as he looks on with wonder.

“Laz?” Finally he breaks away. “Hold your little girl - she’s been waiting to meet her Papa.”

Carefully the doctor shifts his hold on the babe to slide her into Laszlo’s waiting arm. He swallows as he pulls her to his chest. Something caught between a sob and a laugh leaves him. You blink through your own tears at the sight of your husband and daughter, a sight so far beyond perfect there could be no words. Laszlo held her with such delicacy, such reverence. It was as if any moment she could slip away as though a dream.

“Hello there my little dove, I’ve been waiting a very long time to meet you.” He doesn’t bother to wipe away the streams that fall from his eyes. “I’m your Papa and I-” he sniffs, looking towards the ceiling and blinking rapidly to clear his eyes. You rest your hand on his bicep. “I love you so very much. I would give you the world if I could. Your grandfather didn’t...he was not....” he pauses to gather himself. “To me you are the greatest gift I could ever receive. I will be the best father I can for you. A father worthy of you. Mein Gott, Ich liebe dich my darling dove.”

He continued to hold her in his arms until it was time to take you into the recovery room. When he had asked if you wanted her you simply shook your head. You would get your chance, you had a lifetime to do so. But your Laszlo needed this. He needed his little dove.

Tag list

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varibean · 4 years

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quoththecomic replied to your post “Quirin was actually responsible for getting himself encased in amber...”

Honestly, if Quirin had been honest with Varian I doubt he would've been encased, other than that, it was just a really unfortunate accident overall. I only blame Quirin for not being honest.

aoweifj i’m sorry ahead of time for using this reply to get out my thoughts on their relationship but i saw this and figured i’d talk about it a bit

also OREIWJ i’m about to go way too in depth here for a magical hair show i’m so sorry

while it was an unfortunate accident overall, personally i think that quirin not being more honest with varian has more repercussions than ppl give credit for, not just here but in situations and their relationship as a whole. because when you look at varian and quirin’s interactions (what little we have in the show since they’re not main characters) honesty and acceptance and lack there of play a big role in a lot of the bad shit that happens to them

starting off with What In The Hair, i feel like a lot of the time ppl like to point out that varian is destructive, that of course Quirin would be nervous and hesitant to be truthful around varian because that could lead to him getting hurt. but lets look at the boiler incident to start off with

they erupted and destroyed the town, yeah. but varian was trying to specifically keep them a secret, and once they did cause damage quirin had his ‘not again varian’ moment. but the thing is, varian has to keep all of this stuff secret. yeah he has his lab and the shed that he uses, but quirin isn’t involved with his life, or his aspirations and goals. varian has to keep all of this stuff hidden from quirin, and each experiment is just a desperate attempt to get his father’s approval and positive attention

what if quirin had let him practice freely? if he didn’t react to varian’s mistakes in a way that made him feel like he had to hide these things from him? if you have a child and that child screws up, their first thought shouldn’t be ‘i can’t let my parent know’, it should be ‘i want to tell my parent so that they’ll help me.’

varian and quirin don’t have that kind of relationship. from how varian hides his experiments and holes away in his lab, we can see that even though he’s desperate for praise, he’s fearful of rejection. this is a fault on quirin’s part. as a father, he should’ve cultivated a relationship where varian could be honest with him if an experiment wasn’t going how he intended; i feel like this would’ve caused a lot less damage in the long run because at the first sign of a mistake varian wouldn’t try to hide it or act like it wasn’t there, he’d go to his dad for help as a child should with their parent

but instead he tries to fix it himself because of the fear of rejection, trying desperately to solve mistakes on his own so that his father won’t know he messed up, because instead of understanding for messing up, there’s rejection and disappointment. they lack that trust and honesty with each other and that falls on quirin. and ppl can say ‘well what about varian’s responsibilities-’ he’s quirin’s child, and it’s the parents responsibility to pave the way for and honest and open relationship

now let’s cut to the incident with the amber

to start off with, just to mention, varian saying “the important part is that we got a reaction” in reference to the rocks and his experiments can also reflect his and quirin’s relationship. his father is emotionally distant to the point where he just wants some kind of reaction to him. he was so shocked and surprised that quirin would even let him come with him to the palace. he did a dance because he was so happy to actually....get to spend time with his dad, which, is just really sad to me

so then we get to the scene where quirin comes in and varian spills the liquid. and i see ppl saying that he wasn’t careful with his experiments. but the thing is, he was. before quirin interrupted him, he was being delicate and careful with how much solution he was pouring on. so in a scenario where quirin didn’t barge in, varian would’ve poured One Drop, observed the reactions, and would’ve been able to take notes before further testing. and since he didn’t spill the entire beaker there would’ve been much less amber growing at a much slower rate, which would’ve been safer

but quirin barged in, and scared him because he’s not supposed to be messing with the rocks. imagine what would’ve happened if quirin was honest with him. he knows his son has an inquisitive mind, and just telling a kind ‘hey you can’t do that’ never works, because they want to know why. and varian, as his kid, deserves to know why

but once again, he’s forced into hiding, he’s made to keep these experiments a secret because of his father, which is dangerous for him because if he DID mess up, as stated before, they don’t have the kind of relationship where varian feels secure in going to quirin for help. quirin told him No with no reasoning, no justification, he just expects varian to follow him without hesitation because He’s His Father. but a parent child relationship goes both ways, and if parents want respect, they need to also respect and trust their kids, which quirin clearly does not. he’s fearful of the thing varian is most passionate about. he’s fearful of the black rocks and the experiments varian is doing. and instead of explaining himself to his 14/15 year old kid, he just tells him No Don’t Do That. varian isn’t unreasonable, and varian isn’t so young that he can’t have these conversations

then we get to their argument. quirin says that he told varian to stay away and then when varian tries to explain quirin cuts him off, not letting him say his peace, talking over him. once again not respecting his son and his personhood outside of being obedient

he’s not willing to treat varian as an equal. and yeah varian is a lot younger and makes mistakes, but kids are still people, they’re equal to others as people, and that’s what varian wants the most. to make his father proud of who he is, not who quirin wants him to be

when varian finally snaps, it’s because of years of this treatment and behavior. “No dad, you listen to me, our village is dying!” he’s never been listened to, never been respected, and that’s the base of their problems. not only that but he loves his village. everything he ever does up to that point is to help his people. he never gives up, he wants to help others, bring them hot water, solve the black rocks, save the home that he loves that’s dying

so in his eyes, all he sees is this man who’s demanding his respect, who has done nothing to gain that. varian just sees his father trying to control and prevent him not only from doing what he loves, but from actively helping their dying village from a threat

“Why won’t you tell me? I deserve to know!” varian says this and he’s right; it’s more than just the rocks, it’s the basis of their entire relationship at this point. quirin says that he’s not ready but ready for what exactly? what is he doing or not doing that would make him more or less ready? quirin just needs an excuse to not tell varian, and while this is more due to the writers saving secrets for the show, when taken at In Universe Face Value, it’s just him pushing off the inevitable. once varian knows, quirin isn’t going to have any more reason to say You’re Not Ready or that varian Doesn’t Understand. all varian ever wants to do is to be accepted and understand his father, while all quirin does is deny him access to that

that’s why i think that it’s more than just an accident. it’s a problem that quirin created for himself. if he’d been honest about the rocks, varian would have that part of his curiosity satisfied while also having an open and honest relationship with his dad, which would make him feel like he didn’t have to hide things, which would lead to them both working together in a safer and more secure way when varian experiments on the rocks

and like i said, it’s not just in this moment, it’s all of the moments with them

which then leads into my thoughts with varian’s ‘villain’ arc/redemption/conclusion but this post is already long

and again sorry i just oaiejwf took this reply and wrote all this it’s like 4 am

#quoththecomic #varian #tts varian #tangled the series #quirin #tts quirin #long post #and again this is just my thoughts on a tv show #i just have a lot of Thoughts on this #especially bc varian...very strongly autistic coded

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ninjanonymous · 4 years

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I’m pissed off, and sad, and scared, and I have a lot to say right now. This all needs to be said, for my own sake if not for anyone else’s.

Very recently, the Supreme Court ruled 7-2 that employers under the Affordable Care Act are now allowed to roll back access to birth control for their employees, as long as their religion disagrees with it. This ruling was made in the name of religious tyranny, and NOT that of religious freedom. Christian-run businesses can now force their beliefs onto their employees by actively denying them the healthcare that they very much need.

Can you imagine the outrage there would be if SCOTUS decided that it was suddenly okay for a Muslim-run business to break FLSA standards during Ramadan? After all, if a Christian-run business shouldn’t be forced to pay for all ACA-protected aspects of an employee’s healthcare, why should a Muslim-run business have to sacrifice profits when eating lunch during Ramadan is against their religion?

“Oh, but there are federal protections to keep something like that from happening.” Are there? Are there really? The ACA gave employees FEDERALLY PROTECTED access to birth control through their employers, because an employer’s religious beliefs shouldn’t be used to control the freedoms or hurt the wellbeing of others. Now look where we are.

This court ruling essentially dictates that religion can make you exempt from federally-mandated rules for the sake of profit. It puts the employer’s beliefs above the beliefs and wellbeing of their employees. It puts any company’s self-proclaimed God over the law, and allows them to forgo worker protections because, according to them, it’s what Jesus would want.

And where do we draw the line? Should a company that’s run by a Jehovah’s Witness be allowed to deny coverage for a needed blood transfusion? Can a religious company claim that any illness is a righteous punishment from God, and the use of modern medicine to treat it would be sinful? What would that mean for something as devastatingly expensive as cancer treatment? What if the CEO doesn’t agree with vaccines? And really, why even stop at access to healthcare when there are any number of ways that a company could encroach on their worker’s rights in the name of God?

Too many people in this country are entirely dependent on their employers for their health insurance. Healthcare costs in America are the highest in the western world by far, and life-saving treatment is often prohibitively expensive without it. This SCOTUS decision may ultimately deny many Americans their constitutional right to life.

Employers pay private insurance companies to provide care for their employees. This is a blanket expense. They don’t get an itemized bill for the healthcare that they’re covering. They’re paying for general healthcare coverage to be provided by insurance company, and that’s it. The employers are not the insurance companies themselves. They are not the ones processing the claims and choosing which to deny and which to cover. Your medical record is private, protected information. Your employer does not have access to that information under HIPAA. If your employer isn’t allowed in the room with you during your doctor’s appointment, they absolutely shouldn’t be allowed to pick and choose what care you can and can’t receive.

These companies are literally just saying, “see that person right there? I don’t like that they’re on birth control, because I’M a Christian, and that’s against MY beliefs, so now THEY can’t have it.” A Christian forcing their beliefs onto someone else isn’t religious freedom, just like a Muslim forcing their beliefs onto a Christian wouldn’t be. This is religious tyranny the and Christian-backed persecution of women.

And for this specific ruling, it really is that arbitrary. This ruling is a poorly-disguised move to further strip away the rights of women in the name of Abrahamic theocracy. The idea that this decision would save money for these employers is completely asinine, considering good reproductive healthcare and access to birth control reduces long-term costs overall (I will be adding the stats and sources to back this up in a later post).

And here’s an important reminder for you all: reproductive healthcare is still basic healthcare. Taking care of one’s needs regarding their reproductive system benefits their overall health. And even if you disagree with me there, “birth control” is a pretty damn big misnomer. While it is commonly used to prevent unwanted pregnancies, there are a myriad of other reasons that a woman might need it for.

Birth control can control hormonal acne. My own mother was put on it for this reason back when she was a teenager.

It can be used to help regulate one’s mood. A dear friend of mine is on it for this reason. She suffers from severe depression, occasionally to the point of suicidal ideation. I am fucking terrified about what this court decision could mean for her.

It reduces one’s chances of getting uterine cancer. I have a family history of uterine cancer, and it can be hard to detect. They only found it in my grandmother by chance when they were performing an unrelated surgery.

It reduces your chances of forming ovarian cysts. Women with PCOS often suffer from these, and they can be quite painful. My mother had to have a football-sized ovarian cyst removed from her abdomen, and histology found that it contained pre-cancerous cells.

It can relieve symptoms of PMS and PMDD. Again, this is a form of hormonal mood regulation, as well as a means of controlling many of the unfortunate physical side effects of the menstrual cycle. PMS and PMDD are often topics of ridicule, but their symptoms can have a serious negative impact on one’s day-to-day life. I’ll add more information on this later, since there’s a lot to cover.

It can help regulate one’s menstrual cycle. For reasons I shouldn’t have to explain, knowing when blood and viscera is going to start pouring out of your crotch really helps with being prepared to deal with it. It also helps to avoid really embarrassing situations in public, or the need to clean bloodstains out of clothes and furniture. Irregular periods are a gruesome guessing game. I’ve been there. I don’t want to go back.

It can make your periods less painful. Periods happen when, once a month, the uterus sheds its inner lining. As in, the person having their period is bleeding internally, because one of their organs is shredding and expelling parts of itself from the inside. That shit hurts. Many women have reported vomiting or passing out from period pain. For me, the average period cramp can be compared to really bad gas or diarrhea pain. You know, the kind that has you breaking out into cold sweats on the toilet while you silently beg for mercy to any god that might be listening. Fun, right? I’d recon my pain level is about the average, too.

It can be used to manage menstrual migraines. Did you know some women get migraines in conjunction with their periods? Migraines are debilitating. Imagine having them chronically, getting them frequently around the same time every month, then being denied affordable access to the one medicine that was keeping it in check because your asshole boss says that Jesus wants you to suffer. Bonus points if you get fired because the migraines had a negative impact on your ability to work.

It can reduce your risk of anemia. Some women get really heavy periods. Like, crazy heavy, to the point where they bleed so much that it’s unhealthy. Technically speaking, I fall into this camp. I’d hemorrhage to the point of needing a transfusion if I went long enough without birth control. Gee, I sure hope the insurance-throttling company that I work for isn’t run by a Jehovah’s Witness.

Birth control is the only non-invasive way to control uterine fibroids, which often go hand-in-hand with endometriosis. These are non-cancerous growths within or around the uterus can cause uncontrolled bleeding, and may be quite painful in and of themselves. A ridiculously high number of women have this, myself included. Most women that have them have no or very few symptoms. I was not so lucky.

And that’s just a few of birth control’s many uses. And actually, let me talk about my fibroids some more for a second, just so you all have a better idea of what it means to live with this shit. TMI time. I take birth control. I’ve been taking it regularly for about five years now. I’ve never had sex before, and I don’t plan on it any time soon. This is the one and only reason I’m on the pill.

Five years ago, during my freshman year of college, I started bleeding out of the blue. Really, really badly. This “spotting” was sudden, and heavy, and unrelenting. I’d completely bleed through a super tampon in less than two hours, when one of those would last a good eight hours on my heaviest day during a normal period. I had to sleep with towels on the bed, and set an alarm to wake up early so I could take deal with the shed blood before it got too bad, and to give myself extra time for cleanup before classes. After going from horizontal to vertical for the first time in several hours, getting to the bathroom was a race against time and gravity.

I lived like this for a full month. Tampons and pads, for those of you that have had the privilege of never needing to buy them, can get really pricey. Doubly so for a broke college student, triply so when they need to be extra-large packs containing extra-large products, and quadruple-y so when that broke college student is still managing to bleed through those products at an absurd rate. And, it hurt. The pain was worse than usual; the camps were sharper, more persistent, and sometimes it felt like someone was jabbing a big needle into my abdomen and twisting it around. I was taking OTC painkillers constantly, and they barely made a dent in the pain.

The bleeding started just over a week after my last period had ended, so it was way too early for it to be my next cycle. I figured that maybe my cycle was syncing up to my roommate, or some other chick on my floor had some weird hormonal imbalance, and the outside interference from other people’s hormones was screwing with me enough to make my own body act weird. I figured I’d just have to wait out this one bad period, and everything would settle back down to normal. But, two weeks passed and absolutely nothing changed. The bleeding wasn’t slowing down, and I started to get worried that it wasn’t just an abnormal period. I waited a couple more days, then booked an appointment at the health center. It was more than a week until they could see me.

The consensus was fibroids. They couldn’t give me an official diagnosis without an ultrasound, but all signs pointed to that one conclusion. They said that the only way to make the bleeding stop was by taking birth control. I wasn’t happy about it, since my mom had me convinced that birth control would actually increase my risk of cancer (not true, as I later found out), but I agreed anyway. The nightmare was over a few days later.

So, off topic but still related, I had surgery on my foot a couple months ago. It had to be immobilized for a while, and I was put on blood thinners to prevent any clots from forming while I recovered. Birth control pills can actually increase the risk of blood clots, so I made the choice to hold off on taking those for a while, just as an added precaution. Sure enough, only five days later, the bleeding and the pain was back. Again, it had been only a week since my last period.

I still need to be on birth control. It is a medical necessity for me. My fibroids are still around, and I’ll still spot and cramp up if I miss a pill. I’ve recently been told by my doctor that a permanent fix, and my only other option for treatment, is a hysterectomy. I am 22 years old. Most surgeons would never dream about performing that procedure on me, even if it didn’t already come with its own health risks.

And hell, even if it is used just to prevent pregnancies, what gives someone else the right to deny a woman her bodily autonomy? Human beings are sexual creatures. They’re going to fuck, regardless of whatever laws or religious doctrines are involved. We are quite literally built to have sex, and it’s entirely healthy to do so. There are plenty of peer-reviewed studies that go into detail on the matter; just hop onto Google Scholar and see for yourself. And, maybe, preventing pregnancy is a need in and of itself. What if a woman has a condition that would make pregnancy extremely high-risk? Is she not justified in taking birth control to protect herself from grievous injury? If she’s married to a man, does that married couple not have a right to sleep together without fear of one of them literally dying for it? Even by Christian standards, it doesn’t seem right.

This decision that the Supreme Court has made is utterly shameful, and countless law-abiding American citizens will now be denied access to needed care that they otherwise couldn’t afford without insurance coverage. This is truly a loss for America and her people, and one that will cause suffering for decades to come.

#long post #text #my thoughts #scotus #politics #feminism #fuck republicans #fuck conservatives #and fuck the evangelical right #religion #christianity #america #2020 #sorry if i’m not the best writer #fuck #theocracy #angry #fibroids #birth control

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momtemplative · 4 years

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Saturday Afternoon, MACRO and MICRO

Definition of Macro: large-scale; overall. ie., THE FOREST.

Definition of Micro: extremely small. ie., THE TREES. Definition of Macro, here: The wild world at large.

Definition of Micro, here: The tiny home we inhabit, where we “shelter in place.”

MICRO—I sit here in our tiny RV that is parked in the driveway. It’s where I “go to write”, a creative parlor with wheels and a view of our magnificent choke cherry out the window that is just starting to think about blooming. (I don’t blame it for being hesitant.)

Months back, Opal and her friend pretended this RV was a rescue vehicle for dogs—all dogs but mostly pit bulls, a breed Opal feels is highly misrepresented. From where I sit, in the passenger seat swiveled to face the rear, there are four black-and-white photocopies of gorgeous dog portraits staring at me. One pit bull in particular looks straight through me.

I’ve purposefully resisted straight-up news, aside from my nightly installment of “Good News Network” and NPR’s weekly “Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me” radio quiz show. But living without allowing for the outside to seep in feels unhealthy in its own right. Selectively permeable would be the proper thing to practice now.

So I crack open my computer and dip my toes in the NY Times live coverage of the Coronavirus.

I can hear Jesse’s future voice in my head: How was writing?

Me: Good, but I’m feeling a tad suicidal now.

Him: Why?

Me: I read the news.

Him: Now why would you go and do that??

MACRO—“With President Trump having undercut the new guidance of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention by immediately declaring that he would not wear a mask himself, it was far from clear how many Americans would ultimately embrace the recommendation.”

MICRO— I return from the RV to find a house party of three people in my living room. Thankfully, my family did not get the memo that in this moment, life on the outside is complex and backwards. Ruth is on Jesse’s shoulders, no pants, shit-eating grin and fresh-cut bangs in her eyes. She shakes like a puppy with over-large ears and Opal twirls in her No ProbLLama nightgown to the Imagine Dragons song, Zero. Inside our little bubble, things are bumping! The sun floods the living room and even the anti-social cat seems obliged to hang out—from an appropriate distance.

MACRO—Governor Andrew Cuomo warns that, as infections passed 113,700 and deaths 3,500, New York State would reach the worst point of the coronavirus crisis within a week or so. He also said the state was using the machines for coronavirus patients at a rate that would exhaust its stockpile in just six days.

MICRO—Three boxes are stacked one atop the other in front of our door like a cairn. One box is for Jesse’s birthday next weekend, the others are for Ruth.

It’s looking like COVID-19 will spit us out the other end proficient in at least one new talent—Opal’s is roller skating. She insisted on using my skates, which she found while foraging for activities in the garage like a squirrel for food. After a few days of wearing those up and down the down-stairs hallway, and back and forth on the sidewalk out front, I was certain the future for her ankles was bleak and we ordered her a pair on Amazon that were her size.

Ruth observed all this unfolding and with no intention of leaving empty-handed. Unfortunately, toddler-sized skates are much harder to come by. So, many weeks into the future, Ruthy finally got her own skates that go over her shoes and are, frankly, awesome. She also picked out the tackiest Olaf helmet—with a carrot-nose that actually protrudes—after instructing me to “search on Amazon for Olaf now please.”

Each of those treasured items are contained in the boxes on our porch. I jump into our current porch-sanitizing routine (bleach wipes and spray lined up on the porch without apology)—wipe box, open, wipe down package inside, wash hands thoroughly.

You can practically hear Ruth buzzing as suits up for a jolly, though quick to be exhausting, skate around the block. Her uniform killed, and would have worked as well for Halloween, Burning Man, a rave and a roller derby—mixed patterns for shirt and pants, knee pads and skates from Trolls, Olaf helmet. When she velcroes her final skate, I hear a faint, prayer-like utterance from Jesse: dear god. She is an eye-full that could save a life.

MACRO—Trump is getting help with the November election. His campaign just rolled out a new ad, titled “Hope,” featuring appreciative quotes from Gov. Cuomo and Gov. Newsom of California. With the lives of their constituents at stake, they’ve given him the made-for-TV sound bites he was never able to extract from Ukraine’s president, Volodymyr Zelensky.

MICRO— Thank god for these kids. If I were being force-fed the news then led to an empty house with, maybe, a roommate-peer who is also stressed and bloated with sad information, or if perhaps I were old and alone, I’d be struggling in an entirely different way. Sure, I have my moments of fantasizing about what it would have been like if COVID and shelter-in-place came at a time before or children, during a time when I could have relished cleaning and reading and making a weeks-long retreat out of an unsavory situation. But the fact is, these kids keep the scales level.

Not to mention the fact that affection is built-in. Even though Ruth is less interested in snuggling than she is in building block-towers or submerging every toy she owns in water, we seem to be touching constantly, in this or that way. Hugs from Opal and Jesse, snuggling on the couch for a show, holding hands on our walks around the block—it’s all-inclusive. The fact that this is not the case for everyone is something I am well aware of.

MACRO—Jared Kushner has embedded his own people in the Federal Emergency Management Agency; a senior official described them to The Times as “a ‘frat party’ that descended from a U.F.O. and invaded the federal government.” As The Washington Post reported, Kushner’s team added “another layer of confusion and conflicting signals within the White House’s disjointed response to the crisis.”

Kushner, you can’t shatter us. Young girls in roller skates win every goddam time.

MICRO— Our block continues to be paradise. Any interest we had six months ago in selling this house has been waylaid and, thus, we are appreciating our home base in a truly different way.

As we make our way down the block with two girls on their respective wheels, we holler at our beloved across-the-street neighbors, friends of 14 years. They sit, mysteriously, at a card table in their front yard, as if they are having an invisible garage sale. We exchange a boisterous, level-12-volume conversation from across the street, talking over each other and at the same time, expressing everything we possibly can in the tiny window we have while the girls scoot away on their skates.

The corner that turns on to the bike path and is covered with ancient ponderosa pines smells musty and earthy and perfect. Like every camping trip ever taken. Every hike through the woods. A momentary dose of equilibrium.

When we circle back, our neighbors are still outside.

One of them asks, “Hey, have you guys been wearing masks outside?”

“No, Governor Polis just suggests it for any public place—grocery, whatever.”

“We saw a few people driving by with them on.”

“Yea, so did we, we saw a few people out walking with them on, just outside.”

I guess the point is, if it’s not gonna hurt, you might as well do it. Hell, if we are in this far—as is shelter-in-place—then we might as well take it all the way. To pick up the slack for people who aren’t doing what they should be doing. (We are actually yelling all this in conversation across the street.) The idea that some people would still not be doing what they are supposed to be doing is ludicrous. I’ve vented my rage at the college students of America over St. Patty’s Day, but they are all home by now, are they not? So who are we talking about here?

Fact is, as I just learned today, there are still five states that are not mandatory shelter-in-place. (I’m sorry, what??)

MACRO—“I can’t lock the state down,” said Gov. Kim Reynolds of Iowa, which has recorded more than 600 confirmed cases and at least 11 deaths. “People also have to be responsible for themselves.”

MICRO— Opal has been loving her evening ritual of putting Ruth to bed. She says it’s one of her most ‘special times of the day,’ though it happens only a few times a week. She takes her little sister down by the hand, gets her jammies on and teeth brushed, reads to her, the whole precious nine yards. She does that tonight, leaving Jesse and I to the quiet of ourselves and our space-sans-kids in the family room.

Jesse promptly dozes off in the rocking chair. I lie on the floor with eyes closed in star-pose, taking up some glorious space. These days are taking a toll. But it’s also true that I laughed so hard on four different occasions this afternoon that I buckled over twice, slapped a knee and wet myself.

So much is going well in our tiny Microcosm that sometimes it’s easy to forget the Big Picture Macro. Ignorance is indeed not far from a certain cheap kind of bliss. It makes sense why people do it, why people feel the need to avoid discomfort. But, ultimately, the mind knows when it is missing something. The soul knows when it is being cut-off. Our beings can feel when humanity is suffering, whether or not we choose to admit it to ourselves in so many words.

“Mom!” Opal whisper-yells from down the hall. “Ready!” Meaning, she’s ready for me to come and finish Ruth’s bedtime with a song. But by the time I get to Ruth’s snug and utterly safe kid-room, she is fast asleep.

4/4/20

(all quotes in italics come from the NY Times live coverage of the coronavirus from the previous week.)

#momtemplative #HeatMamaWords #mindfulparenting #micromacro

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home-working · 5 years

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The One Where I Become a Product Reviewer

Hey there, fellow kids! Jumping on the already-parked annual back-to-school bandwagon, I bring to you an AWESOME new blog post highlighting my FAVOURITE 15″ LAPTOP BACKPACK PICK! Get ready for at least 145 paragraphs of preamble before I reveal this NUMBER ONE TOP 100% BEST 15″ LAPTOP BACKPACK PICK and DIY BACKPACK HACK!!

I also realised I needed a post in my “lifestyle blog” repertoire that might convince people to send me free products? So this is that post. Search engine optimization.

Backstory

On February 19, 2019, esteemed letterer and all-around Creative Professional Jessica Hische tweeted out that she was looking for a new, fashionable laptop backpack and wanted suggestions. I happened to see this tweet that night and thought, “Maybe I, myself also a Creative Professional, need a new, fashionable laptop backpack as well?” I read through the mostly terrible (???) suggestions from her followers, saw one I liked, and then, with the quick late-night text approval of my probably-drunken sartorial consultant T, impulse-bought a $235 backpack.

The Arrival

A week later The Backpack arrives. It’s partially leather! It smells very new! It’s literally made by a Creative Professional for Creative Professionals! It’s so nice that I’m already worried about ruining it with thoughts of biking or commuting. But the straps are kind of stiff and uncomfortable on my delicate mammary glands. And did I say it’s pretty expensive?!

It’s the kind of backpack I’d be happy to keep if it were, say, $79. Maybe even $89. But $235?! For a backpack that’s not even some sexy upscale Creative Professional household brandname?? My lower middle-class upbringing prevents me from committing to such an expenditure on which I’m only lukewarm. What to do?

The Virgo/Libra Cusp Solution

Obviously I go out and buy two more backpacks.

All my children.

On Being a Virgo/Libra Cusp-er

I’m on the Virgo/Libra cusp which makes me the perfect person to review anything because I’m really picky and really indecisive. This means that if I’m forced to make a decision about anything, I generally change my mind multiple times and lose sleep in the process of over-thinking every minute detail, what fun! (For the record, I’m also strictly adhering to the deeply-scientific, back-of-your-local-free-weekly astrology column definitions of these signs. [Also, unnecessary childhood trauma story, I never really knew how to astrologically-identify growing up because as a cusper my sign categorization changed from paper to paper? The struggle was—and I cannot stress this enough—real.])

Laptop Backpacks: Necessary?

“Why does one need a special laptop backpack?” you might ask. Obviously, you don’t. No one needs anything. Why do we buy things, to feel a brief sense of happiness or accomplishment in our lives? Does it work for you the way it definitely and always 100% works for me? Leave your response in the comments!

But also I’ve never had a bag that was made for a laptop, so I figured I should probably get a backpack that's actually functional and isn’t painful to carry heavy shit around in all day?

Criteria

In order to be considered for this review, a potential backpack had to meet the following criteria:

Must hold a 15″ MacBook Pro

Enough padding to protect that laptop without a case

Must be comfortable to use while biking

Unisex design

Is black/screams “Creative Professional”

Bonus points: also screams “... who deserves a large salary”

In addition to my a laptop, I assembled a weight/capacity testing control group with the following everyday accessories:

Work essentials: mouse, laptop charger, Moleskine notebook, pencil

Life essentials: overnight kit, moisturizer, deodorant, underwear, sports bra, water bottle

Um, glasses and some other crap: eyeglasses & case, dirty socks, folded blanket, Le Creuset 18cm cast-iron pot

🎒🎒🎒🎒🎒🎒🎒🎒 The Backpacks 🎒🎒🎒🎒🎒🎒🎒🎒

Bag option #1: The ISM Backpack

The ISM retails for $235 USD; it’s only available online but comes with free shipping and returns in the USA. It ships in a pretty box with a pretty branded dust bag and a bunch of tissue that smells of “Instagram unboxing moment”.

I wore this bag out in public a few times: to the work lounge at the Public Hotel (a hotspot for “cool-looking people” working remotely), to pay a visit to my old MoMA office, and to a job interview. Did I feel like a Creative Professional? You bet I did! But then my former coworker commented that the bag made me look like a “techy person”, which ruined everything it had going for it. (There is a fine line between Creative Professional and Startup Chic that I refuse to cross. It involves hoodies.)

Left: fancy regal satin lining, to remind you that you’re the millennial queen you are. Right: full bag, with front pocket that is great for fitting flat stuff and maybe only flat stuff.

It fit everything in the “capacity” control group, albeit quite snugly, but its real downfall was the straps: although they were quite hearty, being both wide and well padded (which would be great for those with flat chests), their stiff sturdiness meant they were very inflexible, and basically cut into my breasts any time I raised my arms together, as one would if biking:

MEINE POOR BOOBS.

ISM owner/designer Justin emailed me after I returned the bag, and explained they were working on a smaller version for 13″ laptops. I explained this doesn’t help people with mammary glands who own 15″ laptops. Per Justin:

I feel what you mean Christy, a bag that fits a 15" laptop and is unisex has been a tough design challenge given the size difference between males and females. We have been able to shorten the straps to accommodate though.

I get it. Designing for the fact that 50% of the population has boobs is hard! Did you know that basically everything is designed around men and their stupid bodies?? It's also subsequently a prime example of how e-comm genders backpack sizing: you’ll find that 15″ laptop bags are generally only found in the “Men’s” section of websites. I need a drink.

Pros

Looks and feels fancy

Separate laptop pocket from main compartment

Water and weather resistant

Good amount of padding everywhere

Real leathurrrr bottom

Bitches be loving gold zippers

I am weirdly very into the simple strap adjustment design (not pictured but trust me that it’s nicely done)

Cons

High price point for my feeble income

Cut into my boobs

Front pocket is pretty difficult to put stuff in due to being so flat

Makes me look like a tech bro

Did not get the job I interviewed for while using it

Rating

Comfort: ★★☆☆☆ Creative professional-ness: ★★★★★ Female compatibility: ★☆☆☆☆ (one star for gold zipper) Value for monies: ★★★★☆ (if you don’t bike or have boobs) Overall: ★★★☆☆

🎒🎒🎒🎒🎒🎒🎒🎒 Bag option #2: MUJI Water Repellent Backpack

I bought this bag at the MUJI store for a very reasonable $49 USD. Like everything MUJI, it’s pretty decent quality both in materials and design, and feels like it’ll last a while.

Unfortunately, I didn’t end up testing this “in the real world” because, whoops, it only comfortably fits a 13″ laptop. But I did uncomfortably fit my 15″ laptop inside, really stretching the limits of the side panels, and then managed to cram the test “capacity” content on top (with room to spare!). I then did a “hunch test”, folding myself over as one would on a road bike, and found that there was barely any padding on the back panel, and my spine was knocking against the hard surface of my computer. Not cool! Plus the back did not have a mesh surface, literally making it not cool on a sweaty back.

Yes I get it, I have a big stupid computer.

Pros

Nice quality

Large capacity

Water repellent

Has a secret little back pocket you’ll probably never use

Has those tacky side pockets for water bottles which are surprisingly handy for sunglasses or pocket chargers

Cons

Made for a 13″ laptop

Non-meshed back

Not enough back padding

Rating

Comfort: ★★★☆☆ Creative professional-ness: ★★★★☆ Female compatibility: ★★★★★ Value for monies: ★★★★★ Overall: ★★★★☆+

🎒🎒🎒🎒🎒🎒🎒🎒 Bag option #3: UNIQLO Water Repellent Backpack

Right after purchasing the MUJI bag I walked across the street and picked this up for $29.90. YOLO!

Realising that is was yet another bag made for 13″ laptops, I could immediately tell that the quality was much lesser than MUJI’s: it was much lighter in weight, and the fabric thinner. Look at those ugly shoulder straps where the fabric is bunching. The front pocket’s structure is so weak that it sags. Sad!

But: pretty good akshully?!

I again force-fit my behemoth laptop and belongings into the small frame, yet, contrary to expectation, this thing was comfortable AF?! And even had room to spare. The straps were super soft and cushy and malleable around my boobs, and the “hunch test” revealed amazingly thick layers of padding on two sides of the back panel, with a thinner center panel that relieves any pressure on your spine. What kind of ugly genius is this?

Pros

Stupidly comfortable

Large capacity

Water repellent

Again, tacky side pockets, this time with an angled top hem

Cons

Made for a 13″ laptop

Pretty cheap and ugly looking

Pretty cheap and ugly feeling

Rating

Comfort: ★★★★★ Creative professional-ness: ★★☆☆☆ Female compatibility: ★★★★★ Value for monies: ★★★★☆ Overall: ★★★★☆

🎒🎒🎒🎒🎒🎒🎒🎒 Other opshuns, you ask?

There’s a few other mid-range “nice” bag brands I was looking into online, such as the one which esteemed Creative Professional Jessica Hische ended up going with, but let’s just assume I left them out because they lack the quality needed for this rigorous assessment and not because the bag designer whom I went on a date with decided to ghost me after I sprained my ankle while in Canada. Ahem.

Final Verdict... and a Backpack Hack (!!) (...Backhack™?!)

Although I was quite impressed with the comfort the UNIQLO model provided (both to my body and my wallet), I was actually going to declare this experiment a failure and return all the backpacks. Until, that is, I took a closer look at the interior construction of the UNIQLO and MUJI bags: they measured as though they should be tall enough for my latop, and yet the MacBook corners stubbornly stuck out. Time to play detective! 🔍

Turning the bags inside-out, I noticed they both included a superfluous, space-reducing seam at the bottom of the main pocket. WTF.

UNIQLO bag before & after: the difference a simple seam (and lack of colour temperature matching) makes!

By removing this seam on the UNIQLO model, I gained a full inch of vertical room, ALLOWING THE 15″ LAPTOP TO ACTUALLY FIT IN THE DAMN BAG. Yes, it fits snugly, and some may argue that the superfluous seam protects the edge of the computer from hitting the ground, but the very bottom edge seam is actually pretty bulky and does a decent job of protecting as is.

Verdict: With the inclusion of this super deviant hack (and ONLY with this inclusion), UNIQLO wins!!!!!!!!

Epilogue

I’ve been using this bag for 7 months now. It looks kinda cheap and it tends to collect lint, but my shoulders are miraculously like never sore. And, even on a grocery run after stuffing a myriad of pokey-shaped food items in the thing until I can barely close it, it’s always very comfortable on my tender back when biking home (I did this very thing 2 weeks ago at the Farmer’s Market after buying Celine Dion tickets, because I am a white woman in her late 30s).

Oh, also: it’s black, so yes I am a Creative Professional, thank you for noticing!

TL;DR: UNIQLO; cheap; comfortable. Send me your products to review! 🔚

Colophon backpacks: ISM, UNIQLO, MUJI; socks: UNIQLO; t-shirt: from a Women Who Code meetup hosted by One Month; sweatpants: Alternative Apparel; laptop: Shmapple; glasses: Steven Alan clearance; stool: Target; plants: IKEA & Home Depot; blankets: Hudson’s Bay, E. Stocking; mirror & couch: IKEA; drawing above mirror: K. Freeman & P. Lyle; posters: Bruce Nauman and a Finnish Design Annual fold-out; calendar: Massimo Vignelli; bike: Miele; weight/capacity control group: thrifting, Peru, Amazon, HAY, more places; suddenly questioning the consistency of whether I’m listing where objects were bought or the brand name of the object itself: something I am going to pretend to resolve at a later date in time; brevity rating for this blog post: ★☆☆☆☆; fan appreciation: I am so sorry if you read this far

#product review #backpacks #UNIQLO #ISM #MUJI #review #diy #hack #padding #seam removal #laptop #macbook pro 15"#knapsack #computer bag #SEO

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softkim2 · 5 years

Text

Is This Genuine?

↳ story header made by yours truly. I do not own the rights to the image used.

» Pairing(s): Number Five & Teen!Vanya Hargreeves | Teen!Luther Hargreeves & Teen!Allison Hargreeves

» Genre(s): Angst, Romance, & Humor

» Warning(s) / Ratings: Swearing / PG-13

» Words: 2.9K

» Summary: ❝This was something special. Something real. And yet, he couldn’t quite wrap his heart and mind around what exactly it was.❞ In which a teenage boy is confused by his feelings towards his sister but knows that his feelings are indeed genuine. Question is...should it be considered right or wrong? All he's right about is that he needs Vanya in his life.

Mesmerizing…

A common yet repetitive word that plagued his mind. Especially…when she played that damn violin. The haunting yet beautiful melodies that came out of that instrument whenever she put her utmost focus into playing. How her brows became knitted together as her eyes slowly flutter shut. She gradually became lost into the song, and that’s what made Five either completely in awe or incredibly confused.

He couldn’t quite understand it. Why his heart would race just a little whenever his sister, Vanya, shyly smiled at him. How he’d get lost just hearing her ramble on anything and everything that happened throughout her day while he – unfortunately – had to train. How a faint smile graced his face whenever he heard her call out his name.

Just the little things like that made his day worth it. With her mere presence alone, he’d forget the shitty things that their oh so loving father, Reginald, had said to him. From being told that his time jumping had grown sloppy to him just not being focus. Which, of course, secretly terrified him if Reginald were to find out that Vanya was the reason behind his sudden lapse in attention. Vanya’s already branded as “ordinary” in the eyes of their father and their siblings. They simply saw her as this nuisance that would get in the way of their training.

She’s not special…

Yet to him…

She was…

Currently tapping his pen against his cheek, as the lingering violin melody echoed throughout the mansion, Five muttered profanity after profanity. He had grown desperate to solve this equation to satisfy his hunger for time-traveling. He’s already bored with the small jumps between space. Now, he wanted to practice the more difficult techniques. While, his siblings only had one special talent, he had many that awaited to be explored.

But of course…his annoying father lectured him time and time again that he’s not ready.

“Not ready…my ass…” He silently growled.

“Not ready for what?” He heard a voice, causing him to jump a little. All of his anger evaporated within seconds the moment his mind registered the voice.

Vanya…

With a heavy sigh, Five gently placed his pen down, next to his notepad, and turned his head towards his doorway. One of his brows perk up as if he mentally asked, “what do you want, Vanya?”

Fully aware of what that small gesture meant, Vanya, graced with a soft and sincere smile, stepped foot inside his room. She glided her way over to his bed and took a seat on the edge.

“Are you still working on the homework from last week?” She asked, placing her hands on her lap.

Five scoffed yet had an amused smirk painted on his lips.

“You wound me, dear sister.” He teased, swiveling his chair so he could face her. “You, out of all people, should know that I tend to finish my work in less than a week,” His eyes flickered towards his doorway just as Klaus and Ben walked by, “Unlike some people…” He trailed on, directing his insult at Klaus more than Ben.

Vanya nodded, still maintaining her sweet smile. A smile that Five could stare at for all eternity.

“Well, you gotta give him some credit, Five. At least, he’s trying to attempt dad’s homework,” Her eyes trailed down as her sweet smile was replaced with a somber one, “Unlike with me…he doesn’t even bother giving me a chance…” Vanya finished; her voice almost a whisper.

Hearing the defeated tone in her tone honestly broke him. Five wished he could do something to ease her suffering, but his only planned relied on Vanya having some sort of ability—any ability. But alas…she exhibited no such thing. Her only talent was her violin playing, and to be quite frank, he’s honestly glad that that’s her only ability. The thing that made her special. She’d be out of the action. Away from harm. He’d honestly lose his shit if something were to happen to her. It’d taken all of his self-control to not punch either Luther or Diego for their cruel words but at the end of the day, he’d simply ignore it and just be there for his sister. He’d lend an ear and offer words of comfort which – of course – would bring a genuine smile upon her face.

A smile that could make anyone smile themselves. Well—except their coldhearted father.

Seriously…something was off about him yet Five couldn’t care less. All he cared about was perfecting time-travel, then he and Vanya would get the hell out the hell hole they had called home. Where would they go? That’s the million dollar question, but it didn’t matter as long as Vanya was by his side. One of his trusted companion. The other was his brother Ben, but it didn’t feel right to bring him along. No. There had to be something more than just the trust between him and Vanya. Something that he couldn’t feel towards Allison, other than a strong family bond. This was something special. Something real. And yet, he couldn’t quite wrap his heart and mind around what exactly it was.

This strong feeling he bore towards his violin playing sister was truly scary…confusing...but real. It made him happy, and that’s all he cared about.

Letting out a long sigh, deciding that Vanya had mulled over their father’s “kind” words long enough, Five stood up from his chair and walked over to her. He took a seat next to her and gently placed his hand on top of hers, preventing her from fisting the fabric of her plaid skirt.

Vanya tensed slightly; her eyes remained glued on his hand. She became confused as to why he’s comforting like this. Before, it was merely just words. Words of reassurance. Words of playfulness. Just words. Never once it became physical comfort.

But it was nice…

Feeling the warmth transfer from his hand and on to hers caused this odd sensation to enter her body. Eventually, it pooled within her cheeks as this pinkish hue slowly appeared. Then, a shy smile followed after.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Five noticed the blush that crept onto her precious cheeks. He couldn’t help but smile as he felt pleased with the fact that he’s the cause of that reaction. Now, he hoped that he’d be the sole reason for that blush and that bashful smile.

She’d be the death of him.

He could sense it…

Softly caressing the back of her hand with his thumb, Five said everything and anything to get her to forget about the cruelty that she endeared from their family members. Little by little, as her smile grew, the sadness that plagued her soul began to fade away. What tipped her over the edge was when Five asked,

“Would you mind playing your violin for me whenever I read a book or do some equation work for my time-traveling in the future?”

Vanya’s lit up like the night sky on the Fourth of July. Her heart practically soared. Never once had her siblings expressed any interest in her musical abilities and yet here’s Five requesting that she’d play for him.

Without a second thought, she flung herself onto him, wrapping her arms around his neck, as she thanked him repeatedly.

A bright smile slowly appeared on his face as Five wrapped his arms around her waist. Though, it was awkward given their current position, but he pushed back those thoughts as he wanted to enjoy their little moment. How her body felt against his. How her warm cheek pressed against his.

He prayed that their hug could last forever…

“Five? Vanya? What are you guys doing?” They heard someone ask, causing them to jump back and creating a bit of space between them. Their faces were alert and their bodies tensed.

Five glanced over his shoulder and saw both Luther and Allison standing outside. Looks of confusion graced their faces as the same thought popped into their minds,

“Is there something going on between them?”

His jaw tightened as Five stood up; frustration flashed in his eyes. He walked up to them with one hand on his bedroom door ready to slam it on their faces. His brow perked up as he gave them a look.

“May I help you?” He asked, already impatient with them. Scratch that. Already angry with them as they interrupted a tender moment between him and Vanya.

Allison’s eyes flickered from him to Vanya, who looked embarrassment or appeared to be as her hair acted as a curtain around her face. Then, a soft scoffed escaped her lips as she was quick to catch on to the situation. It a predicament that she had experienced with Luther many times and would continue to do so.

Before finally answering Five, aware of his quick-temper, Allison cleared her throat.

“Sorry. Um. We were just wondering why Vanya was in your room. You almost never allow anyone to hang around as it disrupts your focus,” The girl – with the power to manipulate people – peeked over his shoulder quickly before returning her gaze on her brother, “And…Luther and I just wanted to see what’s going on.” She finished, smiling warmly at Five.

Five snorted, “Well, obviously, it’s not any of your business and—” However before he could finish his sentence, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to the side and noticed Vanya standing next to him. Then, she quickly brushed by him, wanting to get out of the room as soon as possible.

“I’m sorry. They’re right. I shouldn’t have interrupted your focus,” She quickly flashed him a smile, “I’ll come find you when you’re less busy.” She said before maneuvering around Allison and Luther and disappearing back to her room.

Five gawked, berating himself for not stopping her. He should’ve been a tad faster at dismissing Luther and Allison. If he was, then he’d be hugging Vanya right now and simply enjoying her company. Just her mere presence alone was enough for him to remain calm and tackle his never ending problematic time-travel equation.

Now?

He’s alone…

He’s annoyed…

But most importantly…

He’s sorry…

With a heavy sigh, he removed himself from his bedroom door and sulked back to his desk. Luther and Allison quietly trailed after him, after deciding that they should offer him a bit of advice. Whether it’d bite them in the ass or not had yet to be seen.

“Five…” Allison began as she leaned against his desk but made sure to keep some distance. “What’s going on between you and Vanya?” She asked as Luther stood close to her. Just like a bodyguard.

Five looked up; his face practically emotionless.

“Why do you care?”

“Oh, cut the bullshit, Five. We’re alone and daddy dearest isn’t doing his hallway patrols for another few hours so tell us what’s on your mind?”

“I don’t have to tell you anything, especially when it comes to Vanya because the last time I checked, you guys didn’t give two shits about her, so why start now?”

Allison winced at his harsh tone. Luther tensed just a bit. They deserved Five’s cold attitude because he’s right. They’re not the best siblings towards Vanya. Ever since they learned about her just being “plain”, they treated her like a pest. Like she’s nothing. In their books, if a person had abilities, then he or she deserved the right to be in their presence. If you’re unlucky…then…well…

Fueled with desire to understand what occurred between Five and Vanya, Allison decided to change her tactic. At the end of the day, she just wanted the two of them to understand the risk they’d be taking. Sometimes it did get tiring to sneak around. All that pent-up paranoia? It wasn’t fun.

“We do care about Vanya and you. We care about you guys so much that we just want to know that if you do have feelings for each other, then you understand the risks you’ll be taking in order to spend just a few moments together.” Allison explained softly, observing Five’s body language. She particularly noted how relaxed he got when she mentioned the fact that he may or may not have a crush on their resident violinist.

Five’s lips thinned. His mind plagued with different questions and thoughts. Did he have feelings for Vanya? Was that the reason behind his odd sensations and unexplainable happiness whenever she was around?

But…he couldn’t have a crush on his sister…

Could he? While – yes – they were adopted under Reginald Hargreeves, Five didn’t see him and his brothers and sisters as siblings. They were more like brothers and sisters in arms, training to fight and terminate every single threat known to man.

Yet…

He felt that it would be wrong to pursue a romantic relationship with Vanya because they’re labeled as “brother” and “sister”. He shuddered whenever he saw how close Allison and Luther were in her bedroom. He grimaced at the thought of them kissing whenever he caught glimpses of their faces so close together that their noses bumped into each other.

So…

Why didn’t that matter to him when she hugged him? Why didn’t that seem to bother him when he placed his hand on top of hers?

It’s quite simple actually. He already developed a crush on Vanya since the first time she actually sat down and listened to his worries. His complaints. She was there for him when no one else was. She comforted and relieved his stress with tiny actions like making him a peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches. Things like that that made him want to come faster while he’s out on missions.

She was what made his home feel like a home.

He felt that warmth that every home radiates…

Without saying a word, Five stood from his chair, again. Then, he turned towards Luther and Allison and asked,

“When did you guys realize that you guys liked each other?”

“Huh?”

“When did you guys know that you had an infatuation towards the other person?”

Allison and Luther glanced at each other, unsure how to answer that. They just knew deep within their hearts.

And luckily…

Their faces said it all.

Five pursed his lips, slowly nodding. His heart raced against his chest. His palms became clammy.

One of the joys of being an adolescent boy. The idea of confessing to the opposite gender terrified him. But the idea of living in regret and stuck in the whole, “should’ve”, “could’ve”, and “would’ve” frightened him even more.

“Thanks guys.” He said simply, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his shorts.

“Are you going to tell her?” Allison asked while Luther simply nodded, acknowledging Five’s thank you.

Five hummed in response but just as he opened his mouth to say something, the house’s alarms went off.

Great.

A fucking mission.

Five hung his head low, groaning loudly.

“Well…not anymore… damn you dad…” He cursed before rushing towards his drawer while Allison and Luther each ran to their respective rooms.

Five roughly pulled out one of the drawers, that contained his hero outfit and domino mask. He then quickly grabbed them both and swiftly changed, not caring if his door had been wide open as he did so. He zipped up his suit and then did one glance over at his reflection.

“Just wait for me Vanya…I have something important to tell you…” He thought before he put on his domino mask, protecting his identity.

With a determined smirk, he dashed out of his room, initiating his spatial jumping here and there, and just as he passed Vanya’s room, he heard a haunting melody.

He paused in his steps and poked his head through her door.

“Phantom of the Opera?” He questioned, though, he had to cut the chit-chat soon before his father lectured both him and Vanya.

Vanya smiled sweetly, “Yeah. How did you know?” She asked, pausing her playing.

Five shrugged, “It sounded familiar, so I took a wild guess.”

Vanya nodded, chuckling softly.

“Well…you guessed correctly…” She trailed on, noticing Klaus, Diego, and Ben dash through, “Shouldn’t you also be making your way up there?” She questioned, raising her brow.

Now, it was Five’s turn to chuckle softly. He found it both adorable and humorous that she’s worried about him being late to the rendezvous point.

Without a second thought, he space jumped towards her, catching her off guard.

“Did you forget what my power is?” He asked with an amused smirk.

Vanya, unbothered by how close he was, shook her head.

“No, but you forgot how tardiness irritates our father.”

“Well, all the more reason to be late.”

His statement caused the two of them to laugh softly. Once the laughter subsided, only warm smiles remained. The two of them looked into each other eyes as if they wanted to memorize the other person’s faces just in case something horrific happens.

After what seemed like forever, Five cleared his throat.

“I guess father waited long enough,” He took a step back, “I’ll see you later?”

Vanya nodded which resulted in Five almost smiling from ear-to-ear.

“Good because I have something important to tell you.”

“Oh?”

Five playfully winked at her, “Yup, but it’s a secret until then.”

“Fine but be careful out there. Okay?”

“I’ll always be careful as long as I have you waiting for me when I get back.”

A/N: Okay...I blame Aidan Gallagher for telling the fans about the fact that Five and/or Vanya used to have crushes on each other. I always thought it was a bit weird yet cute that Five (in the show) never once showed his harshness towards her. He actually softens up around her. Shoot, he even tells her how unsafe her apartment is because rapist can climb through her windows. Like? Yes, my cute little OTP (well not adult Vanya & Five, but when they are both teens). Now, I'm fully aware of the discourse between whether the Hargreeves are considered to be engaging in incestuous relationships or not (I especially acknowledge the arguments coming from people who are indeed from adopted families). I also know that the fandom will always be divided because of it so please do not send any hate comments on this story. If it is not your cup of tea, then do not read it. Simple as that. Anyway, I hope you guys like this! This is my first time writing fanfiction outside the KPOP community!

Don’t forget to leave a kudos/comment on your thoughts! I love hearing them! :)

- Kim

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5hfanfiction · 6 years

Text

Burning Memories (One Shot)

Summary: Camila and Lauren reunite by fire at the beach as they reflect on their past relationship while active in Fifth Harmony and struggle to wrap their heads around what’s in store for them as they navigate adulthood and contemplate the future.

Burning Memories

Camila Cabello was no more than ten yards from her car and already breaking a sweat from the weight of the logs and kindling she was carrying. She silently cursed the spontaneity of her plans and the resulting poor execution. The notebooks tightly squeezed into the backpack on her shoulders may as well have been bricks when combined with the other supplies that she brought along to the beach. However, it was inching near sunset, so being aware of how dark it would get afterward inspired a slight hustle in her to find the perfect spot for setting up.

There were a few other people within eyesight scattered along the beach but nobody close enough to get a good look at pop music’s stream queen. Ideally wherever she landed would stay secluded and afford her the privacy desired to conquer the evening’s mission without fear of recognition. At just about the point when she felt like her arms might fall off or her legs might give out from under her, Camila found a space that met her criteria and she gently dropped her supplies down to the sand in relief.

In hindsight she realized it may have been more effective to kidnap a girl scout as numerous unsuccessful attempts at starting a fire had come and gone. She opted to take a break and enjoy viewing the sunset when her frustration with the fire-starting reached a peak. It was difficult for Camila to remember the last time she let herself get lost in the beauty of her landscape, and in a way it helped relax her mind away from thoughts about the reason she came out there in the first place.

As the last visible piece of the sun dwindled away from view, Camila returned her attention toward the unlit logs and the unzipped backpack lazily tossed a few feet away. It was barely visible at that point, so she broke the “no cell phone” policy she intended to enforce in order to use her flashlight app. Unfortunately, breaking this rule meant she saw she had received a text from her second least favorite person in that moment, and her level of restraint to prevent her from reading it was minimal to none once she knew it was there.

“Thx, Camz! After the date’s set I can send you an invite. Is your parents’ address ok? It’d be good to c u. Matthew is welcome as your +1, ofc. :)”

Camila took a deep breath as she flipped her phone over so the screen was facing away from her again, against her leg. Lauren wasn’t her friend anymore, far from it, but enough time had lapsed that they could be civil enough to acknowledge each other when congratulations were in order. Ty had apparently proposed to Lauren a while ago, but the media somehow didn’t catch on before the couple chose to announce it themselves on Instagram a few hours before Camila’s escape to the beach.

It had been barely tens minutes after Camila read the announcement and found the courage to text Lauren her well wishes about the news that her boyfriend, Matthew, requested to FaceTime from overseas. He told her he wanted to take a break because of their disagreement over when to have children. He explained how he needed time to think about whether he could wait as much time as Camila needed to ride the wave of her current career success. Although she recognized that the pressure to start a family was a risk that could come from dating a significantly older man, it didn’t occur to her the topic would be pressed as soon as it was. This “break” seemed more like an ultimatum, so she decided on a whim that if her relationship was going to burn to ashes, then so too would the evidence of all the emotions past loves have made her feel.

Camila flipped her phone back over with every intention of going straight to the flashlight, but she felt a tug in her gut that told her to send a response to Lauren’s text first.

“The address here (Miami) is fine. But if I don’t have a +1 anymore, am I still invited?”

She felt stupid the moment she hit send, as her response was practically begging for questions, yet a part of her truly was curious if being in a relationship made her presence in Lauren’s life less awkward now. Rather than waste time obsessing over receiving a response, Camila tapped on the YouTube app and resorted to searching “how to build a lasting fire.” She had begun taking mental notes from the video she selected when a “ding” indicating a new text message interrupted.

“Here? Are you in Miami RN 2?”

‘Too? Oh no..’ Camila thought to herself as she reread the text to be sure. Lauren spent so much downtime in LA last she checked (not that she was keeping tabs or anything). It didn’t even occur to her they could both be in Miami at the same time.

“Yeah 4 1 wk. U?”

Camila barely had a chance to re-open the video before receiving another text alert.

“I fly back to LA tmrw. Want to grab a drink 2night?”

Camila felt her heart rate increase at the suggestion. Last time they intentionally spent time together she hadn’t been old enough to go out for a drink in the states, not that her celebrity status couldn’t have gotten her around that. What would Lauren think of her now? Sure, she had proven herself in the industry despite the controversy surrounding her exit from a group that had since gone on hiatus, but what would Lauren say to the scene that was laid out before her on the beach? What would she make of Camila aimlessly sitting in the sand beside notebooks filled with her most private thoughts, lyrics, and ideas, one of which was exclusively filled with content related to once loving the woman in question?

“I’m @ the beach.”

It wasn’t a direct invitation for Lauren to join her, but it may as well have been. It certainly wasn’t an outright rejection to meeting up either.

“What part? Is any1 else w/ u? I can meet u there.”

Camila sent a text back with more specific details about her location based on where she had parked, after which Lauren had announced that she would “see her soon & bring some treats.” Camila didn’t waste anymore time preparing the fire, as anxiety about the situation to come gradually crept up on her. The last thing she wanted to admit upon their reunion was how pathetic she was at something as simple as building a campfire, so she was determined to have it going strong before Lauren’s arrival.

It slipped Camila’s mind to conceal the contents of the backpack before it was too late. A noticeable figure was approaching her location quickly, and whether it was Lauren or a stranger out for blood, she wasn’t certain she wouldn’t die either way. To the relief of millions of fans worldwide, it was in fact Lauren who eventually came into full view and not a random sociopath excited to claim their next victim.

“I remember when you used to be afraid of wandering alone in the dark,” Lauren reminisced aloud as she retrieved a bottle of Grey Goose from a bag she had been carrying.

“Who’s to say that isn’t still true? Some emotions overpower fear depending on the circumstances,” Camila countered before gesturing toward the liquor. “Is that standard for celebrating an engagement?”

Lauren took a seat beside Camila in the sand, being sure to keep a safe distance from the fire that was finally burning properly.

“Probably not, but it’s good enough to celebrate being two people who are catching up after going through shit. Besides, Ty and I celebrated the engagement properly right after it happened.”

Lauren took a decent-sized swig directly from the bottle before offering it to Camila. Camila didn’t hesitate to accept, although she stuck to a more manageable sip. She was a lightweight and knew better than to start off with too much, too fast.

“Congrats again, by the way. Marriage is a big step. How’d you know you were ready?”

Camila knew it was a heavy question, but the way they used to be never involved treading lightly.

Lauren took another sip from the bottle and shrugged.

“It’s so rare to find someone who supports you for you, for everything you are, and everything you stand for despite all the noise in the world trying to sell us a false image of what perfect people and perfect love should be. Ty has never tried to change me. He understands nobody ever could.”

Camila pondered Lauren’s response carefully, before settling on a nod followed by a much bigger gulp of the vodka than she intended.

“Matthew wants me to stop taking birth control,” Camila blurted before the more reserved part of her brain could censor the thought from spilling out.

Lauren’s eyes widened noticeably before she tried to play it off by digging a small hole in the sand to store the bottle in temporarily.

“Wow,” is all Lauren managed to reply, taking the time to let it sink in where they both were with their lives now compared to when they had been close.

“Today he asked for us to 'take a break’ because the last time we saw each other we argued about it, and I guess it’s giving him second thoughts about me.”

Camila reached across Lauren to retrieve the liquor bottle and take another gulp, only wincing a little as she underestimated how the amount consumed would burn on the way down.

Lauren had to bite her tongue to the point of almost drawing blood to stop herself from saying something she’d regret. It wasn’t her place to judge someone’s relationship. She hated when it happened to her, and happen it did…almost constantly.

Lauren settled on her first question carefully.

“Are you having second thoughts about him?”

“I’m having second thoughts about everyone I’ve loved and everything I’ve felt,” Camila confessed as she gestured toward the now-scattered collection of notebooks almost forgotten against the sand. “I’m always preaching about love to my fans and how much it has inspired my music and who I claim myself to be. But what if I’m a fraud? Do I have it all wrong? If love is what inspires my music, but being in love is also what’s going to force me to take a break from music, then what am I really doing here?”

A single tear escaped from Camila’s left eye and out of instinct Lauren pulled their bodies together into a hug. Camila could feel herself calming down from the embrace, so she laid her head against Lauren’s shoulder and allowed the contact to continue despite their history and how it should make her wary of sharing physical affection.

“Did you write about me?” Lauren whispered against Camila’s head, although she knew from listening to all of her music that she unmistakeably had.

Camila pulled away from Lauren and bent over to retrieve a bright blue spiral with several doodles and scratches along the cover.

“Almost every day until there was no room left to cram anything else in here,” Camila explained while holding up what they would suspect to be the most condemning item proving there had once been more than friendship between the two of them while they were still band mates.

Lauren looked across the fire, toward the ocean, as she motioned for Camila to put the notebook back down beside them.

“I don’t need to read that to know that everything described in it was real, because I lived it, too. I felt it. All of it. I broke both of our hearts, because I thought it was necessary, and that’s one of the most naive things I’ve ever believed, apart from thinking that signing that goddamned contract after The X Factor without proper representation was a solid idea.”

In the midst of painful memories, Camila still managed to crack a smile at the cheap shot Lauren took at the paperwork that guaranteed the beginning of their careers. It had been a disaster, but it launched them all into a level of spotlight they needed in order to land where they were in present day, despite the hardships.

“I don’t blame you anymore. But you know me…when I close a door, I slam it. So that meant finding a way to forgive and forget even if the wound was still fresh at the time I decided to put it behind me. Now here I am out here preparing to burn all these memories I already put energy into mentally blocking.”

“You didn’t successfully conceal everything, Camz. 'I Have Questions’ wasn’t exactly subtle. I had to block so many accounts after you released that song.”

Camila nodded in understanding as she picked the notebook back up and flipped to the approximate page where she knew some of the original IHQ lyrics could be found.

“The version that got released was tame compared to how it all started.”

Lauren accepted the notebook this time and glanced over the page presented carefully.

She slowly read through one of the rough verses:

“How could you turn your back on me

Leave me helpless when I was already weak

I imagined pictures of our future

As I would lie awake in bed

But they blurred out of focus

as you eagerly erased our past”

“Why didn’t that make the final cut?”

“It alludes to romantic feelings, and the final version was spun so I could play it off like the relationship could have been platonic.”

“Kind of how I spun our relationship to seem platonic?”

“Pretty much exactly like that.”

Lauren continued to read the rest of the page, front and back, silently while Camila got lost in thought.

“I should have asked if you had any memories you wanted to bring and burn,” Camila said, breaking the silence casually.

“You’re not really going to burn this one, are you?”

Lauren looked conflicted at the thought of letting it go, although so far she had only read lyrics to the one song.

“I was going to burn the pages from that one first, actually.”

“Why?”

“You’re engaged. Not only is that door slammed shut, but it should be locked, bolted, and probably guarded by a three-headed dog on the other side,” Camila joked, although her tone didn’t convey that she really felt the humor.

“I was thinking though. If things don’t work out with Matthew, you could safely revisit some of your lyrics about heartbreak, and nobody but you and I would ever be any the wiser that someone else inspired them.”

“It almost sounds like you’d prefer if things didn’t work out with Matthew,” Camila accused with a raised eyebrow.

“That’s not true. The only relationship of yours I’ve ever tried to control was ours, and seeing how poorly I handled that one, I’d never try to interfere with others.”

“To be honest with you, one of the notebooks I brought here does have stuff inspired by him, and I was planning to burn it tonight, too.”

“Well then, the only proper way to handle a break up is with a ton of dessert!” Lauren remarked enthusiastically as she pulled s'mores ingredients out of the bag the Grey Goose had been in earlier.

“If I did get pregnant I could eat as many s'mores as I wanted and nobody would even bat an eyelash,” Camila pondered as she grabbed one of the marshmallow roasting sticks.

Lauren rolled her eyes as she pulled open the box of graham crackers and tore the plastic holding one set of the crackers apart.

“That doesn’t sound like break up talk to me. But leave it to you to consider food as the primary pro of being knocked up.”

“Ugh, I hate when people refer to pregnancy that way. It makes it sound like…scandalous? Or something. We’re adults. The process of growing and birthing a new life is beautiful. We should refer to it in a way that respects women who are becoming mothers.”

“Maybe we should have drank more. You are still way too articulate right now.”

“You used to be able to handle spending time with me sober,” Camila reminded Lauren as she crushed her first marshmallow and chocolate between two graham crackers in delight.

“I also remember that I had many other, effective ways of shutting you up, all of which are off limits now,” Lauren added with a smirk as she completed her own s'more and prepared to take her first bite.

“Watch it, Jauregui. That was suspiciously close to flirting.”

Camila moaned in satisfaction as she finished the last few bites of her s'more, before reaching for another marshmallow.

“Watch it, Cabello. Sounds like that are suspiciously close to teasing.”

Camila took her marshmallow stick away from the fire to jab it toward Lauren’s neck threateningly before returning it to the best part of the fire to get the desired marshmallow texture.

“That could have burned me, you know? And I bet the mark would look pretty similar to a hickey.”

“I guess we’d have to hook up then to not waste the accusations of cheating on false evidence.”

Lauren nearly choked on the piece of chocolate she had begun nibbling on as she waited for her next marshmallow to be melted.

“Camz, you can’t say shit like that. Fuck.”

Lauren unexpectedly picked up the Grey Goose bottle and took two big gulps, clearly seeking to become more intoxicated.

“You’re right. That crossed a line. Ty would definitely take me off the wedding invitation list if he knew I never got over you. If he even knew there was something to get over.”

“He knows. We asked each other about our longest, previous relationship and what we would have done differently to make it last. I started to talk about Lucy at first, but then I realized depending on where you start our time line, we were in love much longer. Just because we hesitated to define the relationship doesn’t mean it shouldn’t have counted.”

“I’m surprised you’re not more freaked out by me still having feelings for you. I’m also curious what your answer was.”

Lauren and Camila laid out beside each other on Camila’s blanket after each having consumed three s'mores, washed down with more vodka. They both felt lighter from the effects of the alcohol, and although it was cooling down quite a bit, they welcomed the breeze as they looked up at the stars.

“Neither of us received closure the way I ended it, Camz. That’s why our feelings aren’t resolved. Just because we’ve moved on and love other people now, too, doesn’t mean that we bumped our heads and forgot what it felt like to be in love with each other.”

“Wow, and Ty knows all this?”

Lauren rolled onto her side facing Camila and kept her head propped up with her elbow.

“Yes. What I told him I would have done differently about our relationship is one of two things. Either I would have come clean about it to everyone and tried to salvage it despite the pressure from management to tone it down, or I would have at the very least attempted to find closure once I knew you were leaving the band instead of shutting you out. Ty knows I’m with you tonight and he isn’t worried about it.”

Camila rolled onto her side opposite Lauren, bringing their bodies much closer to one another.

“He should worry,” Camila admitted as her eyes looked back and forth between Lauren’s eyes and Lauren’s lips.

“Why?”

“You know why,” Camila insisted as she leaned in close enough that Lauren could feel her breath on her cheek.

“Yeah, I know,” Lauren agreed softly as she closed the gap between them and let their lips meet for the first time in more than two years. It started out tentative, but Camila pressed back a little rougher to deepen the kiss and sighed soon after when Lauren pulled back slightly to disconnect their lips and look her in the eyes.

“You and Matthew are on a break for sure, right?”

Camila gave a quick nod in confirmation.

“So there’s no reason to feel guilty for what I’m about to do, right?” Lauren pressed one more time.

Camila reached out her hand to Lauren’s face and stroked her right check with her thumb as she pulled her back in closer. Camila proceeded to address Lauren softly.

“Tonight we’re burning memories. Nothing that happens on this beach will be carried into tomorrow unless we both agree. Don’t worry about whether this begins or ends a chapter for us. Just stay in the moment with me and see where it leads.”

Lauren showed no more hesitation as she closed the gap between them once again and they made a silent pact to let their hearts lead.

AN: I wrote my stress away until 4am and this is the product of that decision. After the longest writer’s block of my life I just needed something to come out. Thank you for reading. [I have also published this on Wattpad].

#UPDATE #one shot #non AU #slash #camren #angst drama #submission #Burning Memories

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justjen523 · 6 years

Text

Let Me Show You (Part 3)

Zyglavis x Scorpio

(Rating E 18+)

The Arena. The place I felt the most at home. I was born to fight and nothin’ made the blood in my veins flow like a worthy challenge. The rules were simple. Win and live or lose and die. No one fights like the man whose life depends on victory. After such a very long time I was home at last where I belonged.

As I stepped out onto the arena floor one lone shadow of a figure stood directly across from me graciously waiting. He allowed me to choose which weapons I would wield in this grand battle and considering I had never actually gone up against Zyglavis before I wasn’t sure what to expect. So I stayed with what I knew well and expertly wielded, my divine twin blades given to me by the King himself.

To the untrained eye they didn’t look nearly as terrifying as they actually were. Very long and thin bladed their appearance made them appear flimsy and easily breakable. That was far from the case as these bad boys could peel a man’s skin from head to toe in one single swipe. Being light weighted allowed me to wield them with unparalleled speed. One of the reason’s I always had the upper hand in any given scenario. Unfortunately, when it came to speed no one could move at a fraction of the speed as Zyglavis.

“Come my Scorpio! Show me what you have learned since you became a powerful god of the Heaven’s!” The moment had arrived. No powers, just physical hand to hand combat with the quickest god in the Heaven’s. I slowly approached to get a better view of what I was up against as I had no idea what Zig chose for his weapons. As I closed the distance his form came clearly into view causing my veins to pulse in anticipation of what was to come.

There stood the Grand Minister of the Department of Punishments, the only thing that gave it away was that ever confident expression and sharp hawk-like eyes. He gave me a once over and smirked. He really wanted to do this old school. No armor, bare chested, hair down. His weapons were terrifying to say the least. They were meant for close quarter combat but also tactical and excellent for defense. The weapons of the gods were far superior and unlike the typical weapons of mankind. Zig’s were proof of that.

These were no simple blades. Each melee weapon he wielded was an extremely long, curved and heavy blade three quarters the length of his height, and Zig was a tall bastard. Midway through the blade was a handle with metal rings for him to wrap his fingers through giving him precise control. This however was not what made them terrifying. Upon each forearm he wore special bracers that joined to each blade with a retractable chain. This allowed him ranged fighting for all he needed to do was disengage the handle giving him the ability to throw the blade and pull his opponent back to him with ease.

"Whatever is the matter my dear Vice Minister? I thought you loved battle."

"I do. Just ain't ever actually seen you fight before."

"Does that scare you?"

"I ain't an idiot. I know your reputation for being quick. Them weapons however..."

"Oh you mean these?" He gives me a sinister smile before brandishing the blades in a way that makes me half leery and half hard. Zig is a force to be reckoned with and now I'm dyin' to test my skills against the fucker.

"You ready?" I take a deep breath, my heart pounding. The air is cool here yet everytime I inhale my lungs feel like they're burn'n. I assume my defensive stance know'n full well that he's gonna strike as fast as frickn' lightning, then, give a single nod to let him know I'm ready.

"Begin." His voice is even, show'n no signs of nervousness. An excitin' prospect only the fucker ain't mov'n. He must be wait'n for me to make the first move. Shit. I don't wanna disappoint.

I strike fast and hard with all I got. One hand slices through the air aimed at his neck the other quickly follows goin' for the shins hoping to knock him on his ass. He don't even move. Just as my blade is about to slice through his skin like butter, he leans out of the way before I hear the click as he disengages the chain. Before I know what happened, he's got that chain coiled tightly around my neck cutting off my supply of oxygen.

"Oh my, that was far too easy. You're not trying to let me win are you?" The way those words slip off his tongue makes me hard as a goddamn rock. There ain't no way in hell I am lettn' him win.

I kick his feet out sending him to the ground with me following still tangled in the chain. However, I quickly loosen it and hold it down against his neck as he stares up at me in surprise before laughing. He squeezes out a strained voice simply saying,

"Finally." He grabs my forearms squeezing tightly which weakens my grip allowing him to shake free. Our positions flip and thankfully I think quickly as one of his heavy blades cleaves into the sand where I had just been laying.

He strikes again with inhuman speed and this time I cross my blades above me holding his at bay and preventing him from crushing my skull. His strength is winning over mine due to the weight of them weapons and my enemy at the moment, gravity. I decide to fall back rather than attempt to overpower. I use the force of the momentum and thrust myself quickly through his legs and quickly get back to my feet.

I try and put some distance between us but he smirks and once again I hear that dreaded click. Two massive glaives hurl towards me and though I am able to deflect the first, the second pierces my skin and hooks in like barbed wire. I ignore the pain as I swing my blade as hard as I can striking the chain and hoping to free myself. Unfortunately for me, those chains were not going to give. With a strong yank my body retracts towards him and once again he has me in his grip.

“Goddammit you’re a slippery bastard.” I quip.He laughed as he went in for the kill. Nope. No way. His weapons may be heavier but that’s where I have the advantage and he the disadvantage. I moved quickly, one blade slashed through the air and cut a decent amount of that gorgeous hair. While he was distracted the other blade came clean across his chest leaving a nasty gash. I took the opportunity to remove the blade from under my skin. Blood oozed down my side from where his blade had hooked in.

“You dare touch my hair?” He chuckled darkly, those silvery eyes fixed on me.

“Yeah? So what if I did? Whattcha gonna do about it?” I smirked playfully.

“Are you trying to get me to hurt you?”

“Pfffft, you gotta catch me first.”

“I look forward to it.” Just like that he flies through the air wielding those blades of doom and this time I’m ready. I dodge out of the way just in time and gracefully he twirls before landing catching his blade against mine. I assume fighting stance and I can see the excitement in his eyes. Finally, close quarter combat. The speed in which he strikes is remarkable considering the size and weight of those blades. His onslaught is relentless and I barely dodge and parry each strike. He disengages the blade on his right arm swinging the chain above his head like a lasso. With his left he attacks directly in front bur releases the chain and the blade swipes through the air before catching my ankle and knocking me to the ground.

No hesitation. He comes right in for the final blow. As he lunges through the air baring down on me, my right hand whips the blade around just in time. His actions come to an abrupt halt as my right blade plunges deep into his chest.

“Gottcha.”

#scm #Star-Crossed Myth #star crossed myth #scm zyglavis #scm scorpio #zyglavis #scorpio #scm fanfic

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fandom--desires · 6 years

Text

Try To Fix You - Part 3

Fandom: Marvel

Rating: T

Character(s): Loki

Word Count: 2,216

Part 1 Part 2

You got Loki back for the dishwasher incident by turning off his hot water midway through his shower. It had taken a few days to locate his room, pry off the wall panel and work out which switch controlled the hot water, but you managed it. There was no undignified shriek from inside the quarters, but the projection that materialised outside his door was not pleased. You had briefly forgotten he could do such a thing so your plans of a hasty escape were flawed.

“Hi?” you waved sheepishly. “Forgot you could do that.”

“Did you just prank me?” The projection asked in disbelief.

“I think so. Were you surprised? Do you feel pranked?”

The projection narrowed its eyes. “You have made a mistake, mortal.” It sneered. “You will not have the final word.”

With that the projection dissolved and you were left alone again.

“Y/N, please stop breaking my walls.” Tony’s voice crackled over the intercom. You offered the security camera at the far end of the hall a sheepish wave and quickly turned the hot water back on and replaced the tile.

Loki allowed you to wonder about his next move for the next two days. You hadn’t seen him in that time and you were getting a little twitchy by the time you came to taking your clothes out of the wash.

They were lime green.

You had put on a white wash, and now your underwear was bright green. You stood, blinking at the bra you held in your hand, confused. It took you a moment to work out this was Loki’s doing and really, what other colour would it have been if not black?

After confirming that yes, these were indeed your clothes and yes, they were indeed stained green, you sighed and bundled them into your hamper. It looked like you were now the proud owner of lime green clothes.

It certainly confused the others. Bruce asked if you secretly wanted to be the Hulk and Thor boomed loudly once he realised what had happened. “Loki once stole one of my socks from each pair!” he laughed. “The colour green suits you, Y/N!”

Your retaliation took a little longer to plan and needed an extra pair of hands. You enlisted the help of Natasha with the promise that Loki wouldn’t know she had been involved. Together the two of you filled three hundred plastic cups with water and lay them out across the hall floor outside Loki’s bedroom door. With the help of a nanny-cam you watched gleefully as Loki stepped out of his room the following morning and stumbled over the cups. He landed on the floor with a thud and when he had finally righted himself you were sure he could hear you cackling through the camera.

It escalated from there. Loki filled your closet with bean bag beans so you set up a bucket of water over the library door. He froze all of your utensils in a block of ice so you hid an alarm clock under his bed and set the time to 2.30 am. Whilst you were away on a two day mission in Mexico he took the time to wrap all of your belongings and furniture in tinfoil so you replaced the milk for his coffee with watered down white paint.

Over the course of three weeks your relationship with Loki had gone from hostile to friendly. When the two of you weren’t winding each other up you were taking the time to get to know each other over coffee in the library. It pleased Thor and confused everyone else, but you both seemed happy with the arrangement.

“Would you consider us friends?” you asked Loki one day as you washed out your coffee cups in the kitchen.

Loki seemed a little taken aback by the question but eventually nodded. “I suppose so.”

“I’m glad.” You smiled. “You’re certainly a lot happier than you were a few weeks ago. I like this Loki. He’s fun.”

Loki chuckled and folded his arms, leaning back against the counter. “And for that there is only you to thank. Although you have made no mention of the subject you have… helped me to… heal.” He almost seemed confused, as though he hadn’t noticed himself moving on.

You smiled and patted his arm gently. “Healing doesn’t have to be a conscious effort. Sometimes a distraction works just as well. Doing what you love makes you happy, chemical reactions set off the good things and before you know it you’re you again.”

“Well, thank you.” Loki smiled. It was genuine and you felt a pleasant warmth spread through you at the sight.

“You’re more than welcome.”

Now that Loki had acknowledged that he was healing he began to uncurl from his shell a little more. He made more of an effort to attend group meals and game nights. He conversed with the others in the corridor when he passed them and he even started pulling pranks on Thor again. He was still weary of the others but their demeanours had certainly warmed up to him.

“How do you train?” Loki asked you one day out of the blue. When you looked confused he elaborated. “How do you prepare for your missions? Many of your friends go to the gym, but I’ve never seen you do so.”

“My ‘powers’ don’t demand great physical fitness.” You shrugged. “Me, Buster, Digby and Maddie often run a few blocks in the morning before breakfast but that’s about it. I’m more of a stealth person. I keep to the shadows and aid in evacuations and preventative measures. The others are far more front-line than I am.”

“I see.” Loki hummed. “But you’re fit enough to keep yourself safe on your missions.”

You nodded. “I’m rarely in any real danger but yeah, I can look out for myself.”

“Any danger you encounter on your missions is real.” Loki frowned. “Regardless of how much of it you encounter at once.”

“Careful, you almost sound like you care!” You laughed, jostling his arm playfully. Loki appeared distracted as he sways in his seat. Usually you bounced off him but today he swayed against you. “Hey, are you alright?”

“Quite.” Loki stood abruptly and stretched. “I am going to take my leave and retire to bed. It’s been a long day.”

You frowned. The day had been no different from the rest of the week. “Well, okay. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Loki nodded curtly and almost seemed to hurry from the library.

“He’s a strange one, that God.” Taz grumbled from his spot on the window seat.

You rolled your eyes and wandered back towards your room, stopping to collect Buster from Thor’s room as you go.

“You seem distracted.” Buster stated as he bounded ahead of you down the hall. “Long day?”

“Something like that.” You muttered, acutely aware that sound travelled well in these corridors. Loki’s demeanour had changed in a matter of minutes and he’d become cold and remote again. Just when you thought the two of you were making progress he’d retreat into his own world again.

Unfortunately you didn’t get to dwell on it as, no sooner had you closed your bedroom door, your pager starts pinging. A small red light started flashing above your bedroom door and you cursed under your breath. “It’s go time!” you called and Chi-Chi slithered out from the top bunk. You hurried to your wardrobe, stripping off your jeans and zipping yourself into your bodysuit. You pulled the hood up over your head and made sure the thermal vision goggles were working. You fastened the dog vests to the corresponding dog and Chi-Chi settled down inside your Kevlar bag. The five of you then jogged to the lift.

Natasha was already in the lift when it arrived and Steve, Clint and Thor were already in the debriefing room just below the helipad. Fury’s face was displayed on one of the monitors. “There’s been a situation at one of our remote facilities in South Africa.” He explained. “Your job is to get in, extract the chief scientist and get out. He needs to come out alive with the briefcase he has on him.”

“Hostiles?” Steve asked, handing out earpieces.

“Local rebels who oppose the research we’re carrying out. Get in, get out. Wheels up in 10.”

The team piled onto the jet which is in standby on the helipad. Natasha took the controls as you secured your dogs and then yourself to the side seats. “This is going to be fun!” Digby barked excitedly, wagging his tail against the cabin wall. It had been several months since you were last called out on a mission so this was either a really good thing (it’s going to be easy) or a really bad thing (they’re going to need a lot of reinforcements).

The flight took 15 hours and you managed to doze for 12 of them. Steve roused you all for a pep talk as you entered South African air. “Y/N, I don’t want you in the building unless completely necessary. Stay on the jet and take charge from there. Chi-Chi will be with Nat. Get us a clear path out, but no deaths. Clint I want you up high. Cover Nat and Chi-Chi, make sure no one gets near the jet. Buster, you stay with Y/N and make sure she’s safe. Digby you’re with me and Maddie you’re with Thor. We’re going in to get the Professor. All understood?”

You nodded unanimously and you spent the last half hour with your animals, motivating and encouraging them. “You’ll all be fine. Don’t forget; a job well done means some serious treats when we get home.”

The dogs started drooling over the thought of fresh bones and Chi-Chi swayed slightly as she imagines whatever food she might feel like eating.

When the jet landed you saw Digby, Maddie and Chi-Chi off the ramp before settling down in the pilot’s seat. You could just make out Clint on the top of a wall through the trees. He relayed to you what he can see.

“A whole lot of smoke. Entire facility seems to be on fire. If this guy’s still alive it will be a miracle. Seems to be a disturbance at the gate. No, wait, ouch, jeez, okay, yup Nat and Chi-Chi have dealt with that. Cap, you in?”

“Affirmative, we’re inside. Low visibility but the dogs have the scent.” Steve replied.

The coms went dead for a while and everything is peaceful. The only sound was Buster breathing and the rustle of the trees. There were no birds and even the worms had hidden away from the commotion. You were drumming your fingers on the dashboard when gunfire suddenly erupted not too far from you.

“Shit!” Clint shouted. “I’ve been flanked!”

You swore and launched yourself from your seat. Buster jumped up beside you and the two of you jumped from the jet. You unclipped your Beretta from your thigh and hurried through the tree line towards Clint’s position. You kept low to the ground and managed to get around behind the group that flanked Clint. There was seven of them in total, each with a semi-automatic rifle in their hands. They were alternating fire and not giving Clint the time to get a few arrows off. You flexed your pinkie finger and Buster darted forwards, tackling one of the men by the leg. He took him down, startling the men either side of him.

You popped off two shots, one in each of their calf muscles. It gave Clint the opportunity he needed and he took out the others. The two of you quickly gathered up the weapons and rushed back to the jet. “Cap, we’ve been compromised!” you called over the coms as the jet appeared through the treeline.

“Get back to the jet!” Cap ordered. “We’re almost out!”

The three of you broke the treeline and began the final sprint to the jet. More gunfire erupted from behind you and you jerked to one side, falling into Clint. The two of you hit the ground hard and the wind was knocked from your lungs. “Sorry!” you barked through quick breaths.

Clint was back up on his feet in seconds, firing arrows as you struggled to catch your breath. You must have hit your head pretty hard on the way down as your vision was blurring around the edges.

Buster darted forwards, grabbing you by the scruff of your suit and dragging you towards the jet. Digby and Maddie burst from the trees, Steve, Thor and the Professor hot on their heels. “Go!” Steve shouted, throwing his shield out and knocking down the remaining rebels. Digby and Maddie grabbed your arms and helped Buster drag you on the jet. Finally Natasha burst from the trees, Chi-Chi wrapped around her waist. Clint took the controls for the jet and initiated lift off. Steve helped pull Nat onto the jet and the hatch swung shut, securing your safety.

But you still couldn’t catch your breath. Just how hard had you landed? Were you more out of shape than you had realised? Why was Clint okay?

“Don’t move.” Steve ordered, crouching in front of you. He had a med kit in his hand and you frowned.

“Cap, I’m fine.” You panted, your chest hurting with every breath. “Just winded.”

Steve ignored you and produced a dressing and a pair of scissors. “Stay still.” He ordered and began cutting at your suit.

“H-hey!” you panted, trying to push him away, but you were too weak to even get a grip on him. Confused you looked down and that’s when you noticed the blood pouring from the right side of your chest. “Oh.” You breathed and suddenly the pain hit.

It was by far the worst pain you had ever experienced and it almost made you sick. Steve exposed your chest and pressed the wound pad over the bullet wound. “I’m going to need to move you.” He said, promptly scooping you up bridal style.

You groaned, suddenly fully aware of the full extent of your pain. Steve laid you down on the medical counter and activated the various supplies that Tony had installed. “Jarvis, get Bruce on the line.” Steve ordered. He gave you a heavy dose of pain killer as Bruce talked him though the preventative steps to keep you alive until you got back to New York.

Your eyes were getting heavy and, despite your best effort, they closed and you felt yourself drifting off, Steve’s voice becoming nothing more than a distant whisper.

#loki #loki/reader #lokimp

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itispossibleihaveissues · 7 years

Text

Another Perfect Catastrophe -1

AUTHOR: Mikimoo PAIRING: JayDick RATING: Mature

WARNINGS: Non Consensual drug use, Non Consensual touching, Non Consensual kissing, humour, slight mayhem

SUMMARY: Dick goes undercover as himself in order to catch a gang of international thieves. Jason reluctantly tags along as his long suffering bodyguard. During the ensuing mayhem they get to know each other again and build a few bridges.

Thank you to burkesl17 for the beta!

Notes: An embarrassingly long time ago, the amazing and very, very talented Pentapus invited me to do a reverse bang style exchange, and drew me an amazing prompt. I have no idea how this story was the one that emerged from the many options I had, but such is the creative process I guess! Anyhoo, many thanks to Pentapus for both encouragement and patience, and of course the incredible art! (which will be included at the end of the appropriate chapter)

GO HERE FOR THE AMAZING ART BY THE AWESOME PENTAPUS!

This was a cluster-fuck. An epic, tragic, mess of ridiculous proportions. It was the sort of thing that only seemed to happen to Jason.

“Gosh, your eyes are pretty,” Dick said, as Jason dragged him bodily towards where he thought the entrance to the wine cellar was. According to the blueprints and the literature he had read on the house and estate, there was an old smugglers tunnel that led to the coast and freedom. He was just fervently hoping it was still accessible.

“Were they always that color?” Dick slurred, petting the button on Jason's cuff and staring blearily at his ear.

“Come on, you drugged up moron,” Jason growled. He was looking forward to giving Dick a hard time about this later, but right now he was a real pain in the ass. Jason spotted the cellar door, and hauled Dick towards it. They had enough of a lead, they could do this and get away before the hired goons caught up to them. He propped Dick against the wall, ignoring the way the fool slid down to the floor with a whoosh of breath.

The hatch was held shut with a rusty padlock and it clearly hadn't been used in some time. Hopefully his picks would make short work of it. If they could open it, they could leave less of a trail than if he had to break it off. Unfortunately Jason just wasn't that lucky, he never fucking was.

“Come on, come on,” he chanted under his breath, as his picks caught the inner workings of the lock but wouldn't budge. “Come on,” he grunted, and with a particularly hard tug it finally gave and the padlock sprang open.

“Come on, come on, turn your radio on!” Dick sang at the top of his lungs and wildly out of tune.

So much for gaining time by being sneaky. At least the sound had bounced around the wide courtyard. Jason yanked Dick to his feet and bundled him into the open hatch. His feeling of relief was short lived though, when he felt a sudden impact in his neck. He pulled free the small dart and stared at it.

“Fuck.”

This had all been Bruce's fault.

The mission had been a simple one, be bait for a gang of very ambitious thieves praying on the stupidly rich. They operated in Europe as well as the US, and their last sting had hit members of the Gotham elite. Normally Jason wouldn't bother with offering an assist getting justice for a bunch of super rich crooks and morons. But there was a sexual and sadistic element to the hits that put them on Jason's shit list. Their victims were both male and female, and the violence often extended to younger family members. Drugs were the method used to extract bank details and subdue the targets, so the assaults were just for 'fun' rather than a tactic to gain anything.

Jason hadn't been planning to go after them, as he was aware Batman was looking into it. But when Bruce contacted him and demanded he lend his aid in that no-nonsense tone that was his version of asking for a favor, Jason went, despite his knee jerk reaction to tell the Bat to fuck off. He could admit he was curious - why would B be asking for his help?

Turned out it wasn't just him. Jason had been unimpressed to find Dick there already, and Dick had displayed an equal lack of enthusiasm. Apparently Bruce hadn't bothered to share his plan with his Golden Boy either. He had also failed to mention to Jason that he was injured; one leg was immobilized by a hi-tech cast and there were bruises and burns on his face. Some hair on the back of his head was singed off to the scalp.

The sight caused all sorts of bad feelings to swim in Jason's gut – how close had he come this time? Bruce was ridiculously good at what he did, but it only took one lucky shot. What would they do when the day came when he didn't dodge fast enough? Why did Jason even care?

“We've figured out they're going to hit London next,” Bruce said, without preamble. “I was planning on going with Damian, but the events of the last week mean that Dick has to go in my stead.”

“So he and the spawn are off to Europe? Why do you need me?” Jason asked.

Dick scowled at him with real anger behind his expression, “Damian got hurt too, he can't go on a trip when he looks like he spent time in a meat grinder, because he was blown up.” That last was growled at Bruce, and Jason realized Dick wasn't actually mad at him at all, he was upset about whatever had happened with the previous case. Bruce ignored Dick's tone, words and expression with the ease of someone who did it all the time, and went back to bringing up mission info on the computer.

“I ask again, why am I here?” Jason said into the frigid silence.

“Nightwing needs backup, and Richard needs a bodyguard.”

“I don't.”

“Don't be difficult for the sake of it, Dick, we don't have time. Richard Grayson wouldn't be without one, not after all the kidnap attempts.”

It was disconcerting to hear Bruce talk about Dick in three separate parts, perhaps it really was just that easy for Bruce to be different people when the situation called for it. Jason knew it was next to impossible for him to be like that, and he suspected it wasn't easy for Dick either.

Dick stalked a little closer, coiled violence in his movements and tension practically coming off him in waves. “There are lots of options for that role, at the very least you could have let me choose for myself.”

“So, I'm just useful as big, dumb muscle, is that it?” Jason demanded. He hated that this kind of crap was the only thing Bruce ever wanted from him, but in some small part of his heart he still got an annoying but persistent thrill when the old man asked him for help in that angry, blunt and almost stilted way he had. It was the sad and pathetic remnants of his past hero worship. “And I don't even get the courtesy of being asked nicely? Fuck you both.” He hoped that didn't sound as petty or hurt to them as it did to his own ears. But it wasn't like he didn't have his own shit to deal with; this was a waste of his time.

He was surprised when Dick caught up to him as he re-entered the house, he had expected them to be punching each other’s lights out by now.

“Jason, wait.”

“Not interested.”

“Bruce is an ass, I wish he hadn't sprung this on us.” Dick reached out and lay his warm fingers on Jason's wrist, then withdrew his hand when Jason scowled at them. “And him being a control freak was no excuse for me being a shit to you about it.” That statement looked like it had been hard to say, admitting to being a douchebag wasn't easy for anyone it seemed.

“Fine, apology accepted. But I have shit to do, Dick.”

“He's an ass, but, annoyingly, he's also right,” Dick said, with a slightly sour twist to his lips.

“How?”

“I will need back up, and a bodyguard, for show.” He shrugged. “I already have some ideas for the first part of the operation, but I’ll probably need some help planning the rest.”

“You never need help planning,” Jason said, failing to keep the scorn from his voice. “What's your angle?”

“Just a feeling, a hunch maybe? Or perhaps I'm still rattled by last week. We nearly lost Damian and Bruce at once, I don't feel up to taking chances, you know?”

Jason grunted. He was going to regret saying yes, but not as much as if he said no and something happened he could have prevented. And if he was being honest, it was gratifying to hear Dick admit he wanted help, whether he needed it or not. “Fine, when and where?”

“Here, two days. We'll fly to London and try and get this wrapped up. Thanks, Jay.” He grinned a bright smile up at Jason, and Jason felt the first stirring of real trepidation.

“No,” Dick said when Jason arrived at the manor to pick him up and drive him to the airport.

Jason squashed the urge to say 'yes', just to be contrary and instead ground his teeth together and waited for Dick to elaborate. It didn't help that Dick literally looked like a million dollars. Instead of the usual shaggy mess, he was sporting what Jason suspected was a $600 haircut, it changed his appearance slightly, added a touch of arrogance and artifice to his natural good looks. He was also wearing vastly overpriced designer jeans and a tight polo in baby pink. Jason sort of wanted to smack him for the price tag on the pants alone.

Dick gestured at Jason's suit. “This isn't what I want.”

“Oh?” Jason ground out, “You had something else in mind for me? Don't want to be seen with underdressed help?” It was a decent suit, one he had had fitted for those occasions where he had to dress up. It wasn't Bruce level good, but it wasn't from Walmart either.

“Quite the contrary. We have to make a splash, get noticed be scandalous!” He beckoned Jason further inside, and when he dragged his heels slightly, Dick grabbed hold of his sleeve and tugged him into the bowels of the house, dislodging a cufflink in the process.

“Dammit, Dick. Stop manhandling me!”

“Sorry, but we have a flight to catch.”

Jason's eyes rolled before he could stop them. “Like they wouldn't wait for you, rich boy.”

Dick grinned at him, the expression was challenging rather than friendly. “I'm not well known in London. The people there who know Bruce don't visit the right circles, they're more old money, while we need young, stupid and filthy rich.” He paused to usher Jason into the study, the one Bruce had for show, rather than use. “We need to get the right kind of attention, fast. That means we gotta be a little outrageous. That and throw around cash like it’s going out of style.”

He gave Jason another one of those challenging, sharp smiles, and pointed a perfectly manicured finger at a pile of clothes draped haphazardly over the nineteenth century chaise lounge. “Wear that.”

Jason wanted to object on principle, but he supposed he should have a look first; his only concession to avoiding a fist fight before they even got out of the country.

He poked through the clothes curiously. The outfit Dick had picked out for him was like a less beat up, more designer version of his normal wear. The leather jacket was a thing of beauty; it smelled like money and class, but it looked like something he might choose for himself. “Why this?” he asked, not willing to show his complete bemusement.

“Two reasons, both practical,” Dick said, leaning his butt against Bruce's hand carved desk. “Get changed and I'll explain my thinking.”

Jason wasn't necessarily shy about shucking his pants in front of folks, he grew up having to hit the showers with the goddamn Justice League after all. (And let it be said that seeing Superman in the buff was not what a gangly, half grown teenager needed for his wobbly self-esteem.) But there was still something that made him profoundly uncomfortable about stripping down in front of Dick.

He wasn't going to let that show, though, and instead he casually removed his suit jacket and dropped his slacks. Dick didn't seem to be paying any attention, so Jason relaxed slightly as he pulled on the pants Dick had provided. “And?” he prompted starting on his button up.

“Two very practical reasons” Dick repeated. “Number one, while I'm playing nice with the socialites it makes sense for you to do some sneaking, and for that it would be best if you had your gear. If people are used to you kitted out in this get up, it won't look so suspicious if they catch you lurking around wearing leather.”

“Uh huh,” Jason agreed, he was having some significant trouble pulling on the t-shirt Dick had provided. “I think this is the wrong size, Dickhead,” he said, tugging the hem over his abs. He could feel the material pull at the shoulders, but it didn't feel like it would restrict movement too much.

“That brings us to reason number two,” Dick said brightly as a predatory grin grew on his face. “To get the sort of attention we need, we have to stand out. My bodyguard needs to be sexy as well as scary. People should make terrible assumptions.” He stalked towards Jason who had the sudden urge to back up. Dick whipped out a comb from somewhere in his sinfully tight jeans and attacked Jason's hair without further warning.

“Oi!”

“Hold still, Jason!”

“I draw the line at you fucking with my hair, Dick!” Jason batted him away. “You can dress me like a damn doll if it pleases you, but the hair is sacrosanct!”

Dick looked like he was going to lunge at him again, but then he seemed to think better of it. “Fine,” he said, shaking his own hair out of his eyes. “You look the part, that's good enough for me.”

“Oh thanks so much, Dick, I'm so very flattered,” Jason grumbled as they headed for the car. It turned out Dick had also packed a spare suitcase for him, no doubt filled with obscenely tight T-shirts and overpriced pants. But after some internal debate he decided not to argue the point. Dick was clearly in a bossy mood and Jason would save the fighting for when it mattered.

Or when it was most obnoxious, he wasn't above being petty.

#jaydick #Jason Todd #dick grayson #nightwing #redhood #catastrophe #my fic #mik trys to write stuff #My writing

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rockingthegraveyard · 7 years

Note

"send me a ship" saboace and marcoace, or mas if you havent done that already? ty

Sorry this took a while!! As you can see I got a bit carried away on some of them.

I hope you don’t mind I just do MAS it would have taken me too long to do all three and I probably would have lost steam. I really went off the rails on this first one. What can I say, I love my werewolf aus. Okay, okay, so, like…I got into all of them really. I love AUS okay!!

(it’s long so I’m gonna put it all under a cut)

who’s the werewolf and who’s the hunter

Okay so there are four classes:

Human - Average humans are generally clueless of the underground supernatural network.

Hunter - Hunters track down and often eliminate with extreme prejudice.

SOI (Supernatural Occurrence Investigator) - SOI, investigates any violent deaths that have supernatural connections to put away or in extreme cases, kill any rogue creatures who kill for pleasure. Or those who risk outing other creatures. They generally helps dissuade some hunters but for the most part the two are still at odds with one another.

Supernatural creature - And of course creatures which consist of various beings such as werewolves, vampires, harpies and more. They all have an underground society in a sense.

Sabo is a human. He is not apart of a hunting family but they do support hunters in various ways.Ace is, of course, the werewolf. A born werewolf, which is not common now-a-days since born are the only ones who can “infect” another individual on any given time when means they’re hunted vigorously.Marco a member of SOI. His family is big and filled with supernatural being and human. So he does the one thing he can to help insure a safer life for both parties of his family.

Sabo learned about the supernatural through Ace, which means it was very limited. Ace had been taken away as a baby and raised away from his kind by humans. So everything Ace learned about himself, he had to do on his own. Rouge was a born werewolf and Roger was a bitten but Rouge was killed by a hunter as well as Roger but he was able to bargain with the lingering hunter (Garp) to take care of their son. No child deserved to be killed just because of what he is after all.

Like in canon Sabo isn’t happy at home and runs off on a daily basis into the woods on the edge of town where he meets Ace. It doesn’t take long for them to form their strong bond and for Ace to divulge what he is. (Luffy joins in somewhere in there, he’s half dragon, I know, pretty ironic for his dad). Unfortunately, when Sabo’s father looks into where his son keeps running off to, it doesn’t take much for the people he sends to figure out what Ace is. He is young and reckless after all.

When they attack Ace, (this is where Ace learns about hunters and Sabo learns his family’s connection to them) they all run off across the mountain and into New World City (idk man). They stick pretty close to the woods still but live in the city. Ace works at a bar and picks up odd jobs on the side, Sabo works part time while still going to school. Luffy goes to school for the most part.

At some point another werewolf gets wind of the family Sabo had once belonged and to him, once associated with hunters, always so. And goes to attack Sabo. This is where Marco shows up, dragging Sabo out of danger but before he can confront the rogue werewolf Ace appears to fight and eventually chase him off. Of course he instantly turns on Marco but Sabo is quick to intervene because, come on Ace, it’s rude to threaten someone who saved me.

When Marco asks for a registry Ace only has his ID because he’s completely clueless about what else this Soy guy (SOI) is asking for. Marco is assuming Ace is bitten and the underground society try their best to find each one and keep tabs on them to help them through the first rough patches and to prevent them from hurt anyone or drawing in hunters attention. Most born have better control by the time their five then most first bitten do at any age. So they avoid this kind of attention, not to mention even in among various SOI districts, born werewolves cause many concern if they go around changing others.

Being clueless to anything supernatural really, Marco is now stuck explaining their whole world basically to this cute werewolf and equally cute human friend. You know what, this could take a while, lets do it over some coffee. I know a witch that brews the best vanilla latte.

who’s the mermaid and who’s the fisherman

Ten year of age is when Sabo and Ace decide they will try to become proper fishermen. Going out early in the morning in a small boat out of shore no one ever uses. Sabo, who is more academically inclined has read up on it. He feels like he’ll get the hang of it just fine. And they do alright for kids the first time around. Sabo is, though he won’t admit it, a little surprised and jealous that Ace does better than him. Ace has a lot of patience when it comes to hunting, looks like fishing is no different.

Sometimes Ace gets paranoid, insists someone is watching them. He was more ‘in tune’ with his instincts, or so he says. Sabo is quick to roll his eyes except when they’re out on the water. Mainly because sometimes he feels it too. It wasn’t until the weather turned bad in seconds and the waves rolls beneath them that they realized how correct Ace was. They’re both excellent swimmers but when Ace is knocked out of the boat and doesn’t resurface, Sabo panics. He wants to dive in after him but their small boat is pushed to the rocks.

Boatless and now stuck on jagged rocks he feels utterly helpless. Throwing caution into the wind, he’s ten seconds from trying to clear the waves that will smash him back into the rocks when two bodies are thrown right on him. Ace is there, he’s okay, he’s coughing which means he’s breathing. This new blond kid is there too, he must have saved Ace and he’s so, so grateful and holy shit is that tail?!

And so it starts, the two boys and their mermaid friend, Marco. Marco who helps them fish and sits on their boat with them and swims with them. Who shares stories of the ocean, the creatures there, his large family of other mermaids. He describes them and they’re all so different. But Sabo and Ace hope to meet them someday, even his father, who is as large as a whale Marco says.

In turn Sabo and Ace sit with Marco on the shore. They tell him of their lives, their little brother and his friends. They tell him the troubles of humans but the small good things to come to them as well. Sabo talks about his parent’s selfishness and how sad he is with them. Ace doesn’t talk about his family who is no longer around anyways. Sabo explains that the reason Ace seems so angry is because he is used an an outlet because of who is father is. Ace is angry because he’s hurt. Being hurt is a concept all three of them know too well.

Neither of them can really place as they grew up just when they fell in love.

who’s the witch and who’s the familiar

Sabo is the witch and Ace is the most frustrating familiar to have ever existed. Sabo is sure he accidentally cursed himself instead when he happened upon Ace, who came from out of nowhere it seemed. From his reading, familiars are suppose to be your guide, he is sure he didn’t summon a demon or a fairy, or at least Ace claims he isn’t. But a good portion of the time Ace is less than helpful. That’s not to say he doesn’t try, because he does and that in sort is part of the problem. In terms of protection it was something Ace could never let him down on. Magic however was a whole other story.

The best or worst, they’re not really sure which, case was when Sabo made to summon a bird to carry messages long distances for him and with Ace’s help he accidentally summoned and entrapped and very shocked phoenix instead. One thing Ace had excelled in, was elemental magic, more specifically fire. Sabo reasons that might have had something to do with the frustrated fire bird now bound to him. They are both very apologetic and struggled to find an incantation to break the bond.

Not that either of them would admit it but they were surprised when the phoenix, Marco, transformed with a burst of beautiful blue flames into an equally beautiful man. Sabo scolds himself for being surprised considering Ace is constantly shifting forms on a regular basis. Even with the extra set of eyes Marco provided it took them a whole month to break the bond. By then Marco was no longer angry and Ace and Sabo were sad to see him go.

They had only sulked about it for a week when Marco reappeared. He couldn’t in good conscious leave them alone after all, not when both of them had so much to learn. Marco was no longer bonded and was free to come and go as he pleased. Sabo and Ace were happy that their little hut on the mountain was one of the places he went to the most.

who’s the barista and who’s the coffee addict

With Ace’s medication he can’t have caffeine, or at least he’s not suppose to. Not suppose to have it aside, medication be damned on rare occasions he can’t help but down a huge cup of Izo’s special vanilla latte. (This action is always followed with regret, will he ever learn?) It’s why being a barista is such a confusing choice for him but he love it. Marco, his co-worker, is addicted. Family is in a constant state of worry, has anyone checked his resting heart rate? No way it’s normal. But that’s just how it is a The Whitebeard Cafe.

No one rivals Marco’s coffee intake, no one but Sabo from Revolution Books across the street. He always comes in during Marco or Ace’s shift. He stays longer if both of them are there. They all assume he is ordering a bunch of coffee for his co-workers. However he’s been here chatting with Marco and Ace for the past ten minutes, he finished one cup and is now drinking another. He’s eaten two of the pastries. Did he notice with Ace ate the third? Does he care? Does he even realize there are more than two people working here.

Thatch and Izo are very embarrassed over Marco swooning so helplessly and Ace, the blind dork. Ace is so oblivious or these two people openly flirting with him the entire time. Izo is getting real tired of Ace sulking, pretending to be happy that Sabo and Marco make such a perfect fit. Goddammit Ace, do you use your eyes?

Koala is getting really tired of Sabo coming back just seconds before his break ends with no pastries AGAIN and her coffee half gone. One of these days she’s gonna have to go get them herself and see just who these two “perfect” guys her idiot is fawning over.

who’s the professor and who’s the TA

Ace is the professor. He is spacey and his organization skills appear to be a mess but he’s good at interacting with his students. Especially the ones that are having the toughest time because he was there too. He complains about the workload all the time and complains that it’s never quiet but he really loves it.

Marco is in the class next door who is completely dedicated and professional and everything is in chaos. His desk is somehow even worst than Ace’s. Only there is no order among it. While class is in Ace has a tendency to be sitting in the back of the class. No one know when or how he even got there, how can a teacher be so sneaky? Don’t you have your own class to teach?

Sabo is almost a cryptid. Is he a TA for Ace or is he here for Marco? Sometimes he’s there and sometimes he isn’t and the students are left questioning if he’s even real. One student has a friend who goes to another university and she claims she’s seen Sabo there. There are no pictures and somehow whenever someone tries to sneak one something obstructs it. There is a whole club now.

who’s the knight and who’s the prince(ss)

They’re all prince’s!! Marco the Prince of Moby. Sabo the prince of Goa. And Ace the prince of the ruined kingdom of Oro.

Queen Rouge ran away with her son and found refuge in the mountain that bordered the Goa kingdom where she was able to raise her son in secret. Prince Sabo ran away at a young age, found Ace and they quickly became the best and only friends they ever knew. But of course being a prince makes it much harder for Sabo to run away and he goes back willingly after his father started sending out parties to look for him. Ace told Sabo who he was and in return Sabo did the same and so to protect Ace’s identity he went back.

Of course Ace wouldn’t just have that and later trained the the toxic kingdom to become a knight. Specifically to be apart of Prince Sabo’s royal guard. Sabo wasn’t happy of course, at least at first. (Rouge was really not happy but she knew she couldn’t stop her son.) But Sabo being the prince has some sway and was able to keep Ace as close to him as possible. Ace is knighted and honestly, neither of them are really happy about it but Ace had reached his goal. Just in time to watch as Sabo’s father starts looking for suitors for his son.

In comes Marco, the prince of Moby who is here on behalf of his father to see if they could strike up a trading route between the two kingdoms. This is where he meets the handsome, prince with his sad smile and the stoic and equally beautiful knight. As Marco tries to strike a deal with the impossibly frustrating king, he gets to know Sabo and Ace. Gets to know how Sabo dreads the arranged marriage. To witness the small, almost unnoticeable affectionate touches between prince and knight

He’s caught off guard when Ace asks what he thinks of the once proud kingdom of Oro. He answers honestly, that he remembers vivid warm colors, laughter, the busy market , a boisterous king and beautiful queen. He tells Ace and Sabo who listens in closely that he remembers that above everything he remembers the people were happy under king Roger’s rule. He remarks that it’s a shame that he was burned like it was and that he hoped one day it will be taken away from Akainu’s tyrannical rule. He’s confused when Ace leaves silently and Sabo smiling, still facing the book he had been ‘studying’.

When Marco is set to take his leave, the negotiations failing to have gone anywhere, he makes the most of his last private time with Sabo and Ace. He tells them quietly to wait ten days from his departure, to gather the minimum. He tells them that they don’t have to say goodbye forever, that in ten days he will be waiting in the small village of Foosha. Ace and Sabo listen as he tells them that Moby is accepting of all those in need of a place and a fresh start no matter who they are or the families they once belonged too. And in ten days Goa was without it’s prince and his loyal knight.

who’s the teacher and who’s the single parent

Sabo is the teacher. It’s messy and the children are loud but he love his job with all his heart.

Ace isn’t a single parent but he’s treated like it. People generally give him pity looks, must have been a teen parent? Where is the mother they wonder but never pry. But it’s not like that Ace is taking care of his adopted little brother because he’s guardians do a piss poor job honestly. So he took Luffy and struggles to get him to school on time, more or not making himself late for his own classes.

Marco is a dad in all but blood. He watches carefully and cleans up after Thatch’s cooking adventures. Lets Izo paint his face in makeup from cheap glittery pink cases. Marco struggles to keep Namur from drowning himself in the park fountain and Haruta from stuffing her pockets full of frogs. He gets all four of them to school before work and picks them up from his father’s home after.

And when Haruta gets into a fight at school he patiently waits with the kind teacher while the other kid and his parents run late. Haruta is left to play with the toys in the classroom and Marco is left to chat with the teacher who apologizes for the other’s lateness. It doesn’t take a genius to know that the kid Haruta fought with got in trouble a lot for the teacher, Sabo he insisted to know the other enough to apologize for them.

Only Marco seems to be startled when the door burst open with a young man struggling to catch his breath and a child slung under his arm. Of course Marco, the private of his own mind thinks how unfair it is that both teacher and this man are incredibly cute. He’s even more surprised when the child is thrusted forward and made to apologize for stealing Haruta’s food and the kid, Luffy, does so eagerly with a genuine smile that rivals the sun.

When Haruta accepts the apology in seconds, all three adults are left while the two children begin to play. Marco feels like he got almost too worked up over the possibilities and now it seems like a waste to be here but he can’t bring himself to pull Haruta away from Luffy in the middle of their game. He finds it really nice when all three adults sit down to talk and when he walks away with a promise to see them another time he can’t help but think this is the best student/teacher meeting he ever had.

who’s the writer and who’s the editor

Sabo is the writer and Marco is his editor. They’ve been working to get this book done, long hours and hard work put into every sentence written and edited. The amount of caffeine share between them as they’ve gone over things is staggering. They’re almost done just a few things here and there corrected. This taken out while this put back in only to be taken out and then revised.

Ace is the best friend who throws out ideas, a lot of them are brushed aside, some are taken into consideration. And sometimes he’ll ask a question and Sabo finds himself at 3am, downing his third cup of coffee and completely rewriting chapter twelve. Marco slightly concerned when Sabo shows him the new and improved chapter with bloodshot eyes and hair wild until he sees Ace casually strolling behind him. Then it clicks, of course and he takes the chapter from Sabo’s clammy hands and forces him to take a nap on his couch.

And there you have it. I hope you enjoyed them!

#MAS #Portgas D. Ace #Marco the Phoenix #Sabo #One Piece #Anonymous #ask #Ship meme #tell me your favorite

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fumbliesthots · 7 years

Text

So, I’m a scuba diver now

Successfully completed my PADI Open Water Diver course in Phuket, and didn’t die! Hooray.

It wasn’t easy for both Az and I, since we were both deathly terrified of drowning. In fact before the trip I was (jokingly) bidding farewells to people in case I didn’t make it *touch wood*.

The course spanned over 3 days, and weeks before that we had to watch a long-ass series of training videos to acquaint ourselves with the techniques of diving, and complete a rather long and technical MCQ test.

Day 1

On the first morning of our lesson, we met our instructor, Andre, at the dive school. He went through our test sheets and patiently explained the principles and techniques behind each questions, especially the ones we didn’t get right. (I was super confused on questions about no-stop dives and calculating safety stops)

After that, we were driven to the pool, a short distance away, to have our basic swimming and underwater techniques training and test. Az and I were asked to first swim 10 short laps across the pool without goggles. Then we went through the lesson on preparing our gear and equipment checks. There were many details to remember but we were assured that once we do them a few times it would be easy enough.

The entire afternoon was then spent in the pool, learning the techniques of managing our equipment underwater, moving through the water, buoyancy and how to deal with emergency situations. Some of the exercises that I thought were quite challenging were removing our masks underwater and swimming without them, and then replacing them back on; and removing our heavy equipment underwater and putting them back on again.

I must say that was quite an intense training, trying to train our bodies to breathe and move in a new way that we were not used to. It was a hot day, and we didn’t even get a lunch break! So by the time we finished and went back to the dive shop for our final theory exam, Az and I were blurry-eyed and exhausted. We were quite anxious about how the next lesson in the actual sea dive would be like. (And whether we would die??)

Day 2

We were picked up by the driver from the dive school at sunrise to be driven the pier, where we met up with the other divers and our instructor. There, we board ferry which would bring us to our first dive site. The only thing memorable about the boat ride out was the lady boat captain(?) who made boat safety sound like we were in a military camp. She would fit right in with the Ma’ams in our NCC days so long time ago.

Fortunately the weather was pretty nice that day – overcast and not too hot. As soon as the boat started on its way, Instructor Andre got us up to the deck to start preparing our equipment. With wind whipping in our faces, and trying our best to gain our balance on the bumpy boat ride, we tried as best as we could to remember what to do from our practice in the previous day’s training.

Just look at our nervous faces, lol.

After our equipment check, we moved back into the cabin where Andre started giving us a long pep talk to prepare ourselves for our first actual dive. But I remember not hearing a word of it because I was getting a little bit seasick in the cabin.

Some fresh air from the top deck, (and several Moana soundtrack karaoke) later, we finally reached the first dive site at Koh Racha Yai.

We put on our wetsuits and equipment with the help of the boat crew, and stepped to the edge of the boat. We hadn’t done this jump in the previous day’s lesson and I was terrified suddenly. Andre went in, followed by Az.

So the giant stride technique is, holding on to your weight belts, and pressing your mask and regulator in your face, you put both feet to the edge of the boat and take a big step out into the water.

All I remember from this first jump was,

Put my hands where? Step where? Huh? 3, 2, 1... uhh wait.. hold on. Okay, 3, 2, 1, go! Ahhhhhh! Bloop bloop bloop... cough cough cough!

Turns out I forgot to press my mask to my face, and it flew right up. The shock made me gasp and drank a bit of sea water.

But after a few coughs, it was no big deal. We followed Andre’s instructions and did some surface exercises, before slowly descending into the water, as we held on to a mooring rope to the bottom.

It was pretty terrifying trying to descend correctly at first, taking precautions that we equalised our ears as often as we can.

To be honest, I didn’t remember much of the first dive except that at one point I accidentally floated up to the surface by myself. There was a sense of helplessness when there is nothing to grab onto to stop the ascend upwards. Andre had to send up with emergency float for me to hold on to descend with again as he and Az waited at the bottom.

Once below again, he handed me an extra weight to better control my buoyancy. We explored the bottom for a bit, and I was still so nervous that I couldn’t really enjoy the view.

After lunch back at the boat, we went for our second dive.

Buoyancy control was still a challenge, and this time it was Az that kept floating up. The emergency float was released again. We tried to hold our hands to stabilise ourselves as we moved to prevent one of us from uncontrollably floating up again.

Andre tried to get us to do some exercises at the bottom but found that we were having difficulties trying to balance ourselves and moving properly. I for one, kept tilting off to the side, unable to stabilise myself at rest. And once I tilted off, I would flail my arms to try and regain my balance but apparently that’s the wrong move to do so.

Once back on the boat again, Andre recapped to us about our performance so far. We managed to do most of the exercises correctly but buoyancy and balance control was still a weakness. At this rate, we couldn’t pass for Open Water yet, as he’s still not confident we could be independent diving by ourselves, but assured us that we were already eligible for the Scuba Diver cert.

Side note: on the boat ride back to land, this happened.

Kids, the lesson here is – never to put your hands on the ledge of a door, even to steady yourself on a boat. Nope.

Day 3

Last day of the course to prove ourselves worthy of the Open Water Diver title, something unfortunate happened for Az. Her red tide came, shit. We googled whether it was safe for one to dive on a period and the results were not encouraging. Surprisingly not because of possible shark attacks, but more of higher risk in getting decompression sickness.

The weather that day was not in our favour as well. A storm was brewing, causing the sea to get super choppy on our boat ride out. I took 2 seasickness pill and hoped for the best.

Seeing how ill I was sitting in the cabin trying not to puke, Andre took pity on me and helped me prepare my equipment. He made a deal with me that on the 2nd dive once we are on calmer waters again, I would do it on my own.

This time without Az diving with me I was a bit more nervous. But Andre was incredibly patient and tried to instruct me step-by-step of what I need to do once in water.

Az helped take some pictures of the pre-dive. This was me waddling toward the waters with all the heavy load on me.

The first dive was fine, with better weight distribution around my waist, I was able to control my balance better this time, but the same problem of buoyancy control persisted. I started floating upwards very fast as we neared the surface. Andre figured that perhaps the problem was of my BCD self-inflating for some reason, and suggested that I used another for the next dive. Another problem was I was too anxious to fix any small problems too quickly. So while I was breathing out to deflate my lungs so I would sink lower, my next breath was too big, making me float right up again. Patience and mindfulness is key.

With all the lessons learnt from the previous dives cumulated in my mind, I had one last dive to prove myself.

This time I would hold my hose high to let all the air escape my BCD properly. This time I would distribute my weight evenly. This time I would not kick around. This time I would observe my breathing. This time I would be patient. This time I would go slow.

We slowly sank down to the bottom without a moor line this time. After observing that I was able to keep my balance and buoyancy fairly well, Andre led me to deeper waters to explore the reefs and get closer to the underwater creatures. And we even got to an amazing shipwreck site 19m down, where I high-fived another dive team who were surprised we managed to get there.

We did some more mandatory diving exercises like the removing my mask underwater and swimming without it. I was anxious about this exercise before but was actually quite surprised when I managed to do it without problems. I even managed opened my eyes a little bit, in salt water! Shocking, I know! I think this was all thanks to Andre’s constant encouragement that made this easy.

And that concluded my last dive where I finally passed all my tests to become a PADI Open Water Scuba Diver. Oceans of the world, here I come! * *Footnote: With a licensed professional divemaster as a guide at all times, preferably.

Btw, here’s us with our amazing dive instructor, Andre Jensen.

#diving #scubadiving #openwaterdiver

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bloodredseven-blog · 7 years

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⇒ Crowbar: Confront Quarters

Your name is Crowbar, and you’ll be damned. You knew that things would have gone to shit to some degree while you were away, but letting children into the manor? Really? Admittedly, you should have expected this from Quarters and taken measures to prevent it. Not to mention this issue he’s got going with Fin. The bird’s got some explaining to do.

You stride down the hall steadily, making your way to Quarters’ room and knocking on the door, standing stiffly and squaring your shoulders. You’re back, and you mean business. Quarters is in for one hell of a surprise.

Quarters opens the door, and he tenses further than he normally is. He’s not sure what to think, you’re sure. You’re guessing he wasn’t expecting to see you home again, but you make no comment on it. There’ll be plenty of time for talking. You’ve got all night now that you’ve already talked with Stitch, and the conversation with Fin won’t take long at all, even if Trace goes sticking his underbite where it doesn’t belong and tries to interrupt.

“Good evening, Quarters. May I come in? That’s rhetorical. I need to talk to you.” You say, giving Quarters no chance to interject and planting your hand on the door to push it open. Flabbergasted, Quarters steps aside and lets you pass by. You can tell from the ruffled feathers on the back of his neck, he knows he’s in trouble. That’s just fine with you.

You turn to face Quarters, gesturing for him to close the door and waiting patiently for him to do so, taking a deep but silent breath as you wait. Quarters closes the door, and in turn opens his beak to say something. You lift a hand to signal for him to be quiet, and he shuts his beak again.

“I’m not going to sweeten this, Quarters. I’ve been informed on the majority of what’s happened in my absence. Now, it’s a given you’re not the sole perpetrator of it all, but from what I’ve heard, there’s been a couple problems that seem to involve you. Let’s start with the easier task to handle, yes? I’ve been told about your little disagreement with Fin. That needs to end.” You start, your tone cold and business-like. You hate to be so cut-and-dry about it to Quarters, but you’ve barely been home for a couple hours and already you’re exasperated. You want to get this conversation over with.

“I’m not saying you have to be nice- I get it, he hurt someone else in the gang that you happen to care about, undoubtedly- but you’re not going to bully him either, am I understood? He’s at fault as well, but I know you can handle this situation better than you have been. Fin may be a dangerous idiot with no impulse control of his own, but he is a part of this gang for a reason, just like the rest of us. A slap on the snout’s all that’s needed to deter him, you’ve gone overboard. While it doesn’t make Fin’s actions okay, he doesn’t know better. All I’m saying is.. Don’t be such a god damn ass.”

“It’s not just that he attacked Die,” Quarters replies, and you quirk a brow. This should be good. “Fin nearly killed Die, twice. Once because Die was hurt, and again because he was convinced that Die was sending him graphic anonymous messages- which turned out to be the doing of another universe’s Diamonds Droog. He nearly killed Trace- and at this rate I’ve got a feeling he may have succeeded- and I still have no clue why. He attacked me as well, for the sole purpose of picking a fight. Dangerous idiot, indeed, but nobody’s been bothering to keep him in-check except me. He can’t be allowed to just hurt everyone, and I wasn’t going to stand by while he nearly killed others.”

“I know, Quarters. The bottom line is that beating the daylights out of Fin isn’t the way to handle his outbursts. I don’t want to hear about another scuffle between the two of you again. No more treating Fin the way you have been, and that’s an order.”

“Fine.”

“Good. Remember, Quarters, Fin has the mental capacity of a two-year-old... which brings me to my next point.” You sigh, shaking your head and lifting a hand to tip back your hat a little.

“Don’t-” Quarters starts, and you motion for him to shut up again. This isn’t easy for you, but it has to be done.

“Quarters, what the hell are you thinking, bringing kids into the manor? I know you’re no idiot, you’re one of the smartest ones here, so what makes you think living with a gang is a safe environment for two children? I know it’s sad that two kids need a home, and I know you want to help, but Felt Manor can’t be that home for them. What would we do with two kids? What if the Midnight Crew raids the manor again? I don’t know how low they’d stoop, but I can’t be certain that they’d particularly care if two kids get caught in a firefight. We can’t have them here. You can’t have them here.”

“I’d never let anyone lay a hand on them, you know that,” Quarters interjects, his feathers fluffing up further and his hands clenching into fists. But he doesn’t sound angry. He sounds scared. You hate it as much as he does, but the manor isn’t a family-friendly environment. The kids aren’t as safe here as Quarters wants to believe.

“Quarters. Listen to me. The manor isn’t safe for them. I hate to be the one to tell you, but the kids need to go. You can find them somewhere better to stay, but we’re a gang, not babysitters. The kiddos need to leave-” You continue, but Quarters interrupts you, which has you slightly taken aback. Slightly.

“They’re not going anywhere, Crowbar. I’m not going to kick them out, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you kick those children out, either. It’s Midnight City, there isn’t anywhere else for them to go. I’m not about to send them off to a stranger, and I’m sure as hell not going to send them back to a planet that’s bound to be destroyed.” He retorts, staring at you while he waits for a response, his tone laced with a variety of negative emotions.

“You don’t mean-” You start, beginning to dread the turn this conversation’s taking. Your throat tightens and you stiffen, hoping that this doesn’t mean what you think it does. Unfortunately, you know better than that.

“I do mean.” Quarters huffs.”Those kids are leprechauns like you and me. They really don’t have anywhere else to go, Crowbar. I refuse to kick them out. I won’t send them out into a city where the majority of the population hates the amphibian the leprechaun race as a whole happens to resemble, and I won’t send them to a planet that’s going to die. If it were just Crow, I might- but that’s an insanely slim chance- but I can’t send them both. I can’t send them knowing Crow’s Felt would pick him up and not Wes. We didn’t pick up any of Sawbuck’s brothers, we didn’t pick up my husband and children, we didn’t pick up Clover’s grandfather, we took who we needed for our gang and nobody else. I had to come home to a dead family because no matter what happened I wouldn’t have been allowed to- I couldn’t have saved them,” he continues, his voice starting to crack and tears beginning to well up. “I can’t put these kids through that.”

And there it is, you feel guilty. You’ve never seen Quarters get like this before, you’re not entirely sure how to handle it. You really don’t like upsetting him like this, but what else are you supposed to do? Kids don’t belong in the manor. It isn’t and never will be safe for them. It doesn’t help your case at all that one of these kids is but isn’t you. “I know, and I hate it as much as you do. But these kids don’t belong here. They have their own timeline to go back to, and I- and Crowbar has a Felt that’s going to need him one day. I don’t want to send anyone to their ends, but there are some things we can’t change, Quarters. You know these kids can’t repl-”

Just like that, Quarters goes from being on the verge of crying, to full-out anger. He picks you up by the suit coat and gives you a shake, hissing. “Don’t you EVER imply- Don’t even THINK that I’m trying to replace my children!!!” Quarters snaps, tightening his grip on your clothes. “I know I can’t get them back! I know I can’t see my husband or my babies again and I know they’re dead! I know there’s nothing I can or could do about it! I would never- NEVER try to replace them! But if I can make a difference in the lives of these two kids, if I can make things even a little better for them, by Godhead, I’m going to! I have had to give up so damn much for this gang, and I’m done! I lost my love, my children, my friends, my home, my planet, my goddamn sense of purpose- all of it’s gone because of this fucking gang! I finally- I finally have something that makes me happy, I finally have a purpose, and that’s to help give these kids the best life I can manage to. I’m not about to let you take what I have away from me, not now. They’re only kids, they deserve better than what they’ll have to go through if I don’t do something- they deserve a good life! I won’t stand by and let you make me take away an opportunity both for them and myself. I don’t give a shit if you’re third in command, or in charge of me, if you make Crow and Wes leave, I won’t stick around either.”

“Quarters, you know the consequence for leaving a gang-” You try to argue, but once again, Quarters talks over you.

“Fine, then. If I have to put up with the rest of you trying to get rid of me because I’d rather die than ship two kids off to somewhere I know they’d only go through suffering, then that’s the way it is. You will not make me send them away.” He seethes, his voice dropping from shouting to a menacing rumble. And with that, he drops you onto the floor, flat on your ass. You give a quiet hiss, and start to stand as Quarters speaks up again. “Get out of my room. I don’t want to talk to you about this any further. They’re not leaving, and that’s that.”

��Quarters..”

“OUT!” Quarters squawks, picking you up again and dragging you to the door. He opens the door, shoves you out into the hall, and then closes the door again. You hear the lock click into place, and give a defeated sigh. Well, that conversation was basically entirely pointless.

Exhausted and already fed up with tonight’s events, you turn and start to mosey down the hall. As you start away from Quarters’ room you think you hear a choked-up sob, but there’s nothing you can do about it. You’ve already done enough tonight. You’ll finish talking to everyone else in the morning. You close your eyes for a moment while you walk, shaking your head slightly before you continue onwards. You might as well go start on paperwork in your office until you inevitably can’t stay awake any longer and fall asleep at your desk.

Your name is Crowbar, and tonight’s been nothing but a shit storm.

#offline #ask to tag///#violence///

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fanaste · 7 years

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Birthdays in a traffic jam

Title: Birthdays in a traffic jam

Fandom: OMGCheckplease

Pairing: Larissa Lardo Duan / Shitty Knight

Rating: PG-13 (for language)

Word count: 3320

Part 3 of The Shitty and Lardo Chronicles. Also on AO3

The problem is traffic.

The problem is it’s four in the afternoon and everyone and their mother is out thinking that they’ve escaped early enough to avoid the home time traffic. The problem is someone up ahead is honking angrily every three seconds. The problem is some people can’t blare a horn politely.

The problem is they’re in a traffic jam.

The problem is Lardo’s in labour.

“I’m gonna have this baby in the car.”

Shitty looks calm and composed. His eyes are focused on the unmoving traffic ahead and his knees aren’t bouncing but you’ve only to look at the bone white knuckle grip he has on the steering wheel and his twitching moustache to see that he feels otherwise. That despite how he looks he is very aware of the active labour going on beside him and he is shitting himself.

The wheel leather squeaks under his hands.

“My darling, my queen, my reason for living,” he takes a thin breath, “please don’t because I don’t know how to deliver a fucking baby.”

Lardo flinches despite his even tone and her eyes flit to the rear view to check the backseat but of course it’s empty. Xuan is not bouncing impatiently in her car seat because she’s at Dex and Nursey’s probably drinking too much sugary juice and watching cartoons that are slightly too old for her. Shitty can swear all he likes now that they’re sponge of a two-year-old isn’t around. Truthfully Lardo wants to swear too but someone in this vehicle has to have their shit together.

She thought she had more time.

Honestly.

“I might crown in the car.” She tries to keep her voice light but Shitty shoots her a very dark look.

“No you are not.” He says firmly.

Traffic moves up a distracting couple of inches preventing her from voicing just what exactly she thinks of that ridiculous command. Lardo sees Shitty loosen on thumb and it hovers over the centre of the wheel.

“Don’t.” She warns. “It’s not helping the guy up there, it’s not gonna help us.”

“You are literally having a baby in this car.” A bead of sweat rolls down his forehead. Lardo reaches out to wipe it away and despite the tension in his body he leans into her touch. Shitty will always lean into her caress as she would lean into his.

“Chill dude we’ll get there.” Except channelling Nursey doesn’t help her to actually feel chill. In fact, she feels quite panicked because she really doesn’t want to have a baby in the car. Firstly, because contrary to what they’ve seen on TV, having a baby is a mite more complicated and Shitty is a very talented man but he’s not a doctor – the man can’t even cook scrambled eggs for God’s sake let alone deliver the product of a fertilised one – and secondly the bodily fluids would ruin the upholstery.

“I know it doesn’t help to point it out but I feel like I should,” Shitty grits, “this wouldn’t be happening if you’d paid attention to the contractions instead of doing that fucking painting.”

Lardo knows this is true but honestly, truly and honestly, she thought she had more time. It’s not her fault pregnancy makes her so inspired. It’s way better than eating bizarre food combinations or being sick all the time. Lardo gets pregnant and creativity is pouring forth from her body like a tap turned on full. She would be an idiot to let all that potential go to waste, so yes she may have favoured getting that last bit of colour down rather than note how far apart her contractions were getting. Besides this is her second baby and the second is supposed to be a breeze. Her first certainly was. Xuan was born with minimal fuss, very quickly and with a funny half smile on her face. Lardo was sure the story would be the same this time round.

She realises now as she pants in the car that this was ridiculously, wildly stupid. With every contraction (five minutes apart!) she is reminded of how fucking arrogant it was to ignore her bodies ample warning that it was time to get her ass to hospital.

Unfortunately for Shitty, however, Lardo’s in a lot of pain and she’s scared and even if they called an ambulance it would be stuck a hundred cars behind them. With every second they don’t move Lardo is further convinced that she’s going to have to do this alone and it’s terrifying, which is why when she answers it’s more of a screech than the sharp retort that would have ordinarily sufficed.

“That fucking painting is a fucking commission,” Their toddler is not here so she’s letting a litany of cathartic curses go, “and I’m getting paid a fuck tonne of money for it.”

“We don’t need the money!”

And it’s a testament to how stressed he is that he even let something like that slip past his lips.

But labouring Lardo is in control now and she has no time for his bullshit. “Have you met me?! Oh fuck!” A contraction steals her breath.

All the hostility in the air vanishes.

“Lards you okay?”

It takes her a minute to find enough air in her lungs to exhale a hay, “I’m okay.”

Shitty grasps her hand and she squeezes it hard. He goes white, something cracks. “I’m sorry.” He says.

She nods because she knows he is but also because she’s having another contraction and must pant like a dog.

When it came to carrying their first child Shitty made sure they were the most well informed terrified parents to be. Lardo, refusing to feed into his paranoia took on the role of the zen parent. Shitty worried so much he gave himself stress ulcers so to balance them out Lardo refused to worry about anything. Come their second she thought he’d mellow the hell out but he didn’t. He went and dug up those articles, gave himself a hair whitening refresher course on pre and post pregnancy complications and then stared at the ceiling for two hours with their daughter held tight in his arms.

“I’m freaking out.” She says in a small voice all hope of appearing calm for the sake of the man quietly freaking out beside her, gone. The simple confession does make her feel a little better though as confessions of weakness around loved ones are pro to do, but it doesn’t last long because her body is still trying to expel the human being inside of her.

The cape of calm that Lardo usually wears for him is now crumpled in the foot well, she’s gritting her teeth through every wave of pain, she really wants to push and is desperately trying not to, and she wants to cry. She always took comfort in thinking that if women could give birth in caves thousands of years ago then it meant her body would know what to do. The downside of that being that when your body really wanted to do something you had to contend with a thousand years’ worth of evolutionary stubbornness. Her body wanted to push damn the situation and consequences.

Shitty takes both hands off the wheel and encases hers. “Lards look at me. Larissa.” Lardo looks into those bright green eyes, tries to lose herself in the spring colour of them, tries to remember what it was like when they first met, how beautiful he was…even with the blossoming Tom Selleck pornstache. “You’re going to be okay? Okay? We’re not far from the hospital turn off now and we’re surrounded by people who could get help if, if we need it. Don’t be afraid. I’m here and I’m not going to leave you. You won’t do this by yourself.” He kisses her knuckles.

Lardo nods, tears roll down her cheeks.

Reluctantly he lets go of her hand and takes the wheel. One contraction later traffic starts to move.

They spend the next three minutes in silence. Lardo’s busy trying not to moan every time she contracts and Shitty’s too busy trying not to lay on the horn, throw up and scream all at the same time.

“Shitty?”

The honking stops cars around them start to roll forwards as traffic eases up.

“Shitty?”

Eyes glued to the road he replies, “Yes my love?”

“I need to push.”

Shitty does a double take at the puffy red faced woman who’s taken his wife’s place. “What? No! No, no, no don’t push! Traffic’s moving baby we’re almost home fucking free!”

“Shitty!” Lardo screams, “I have to fucking push!”

“Argh!” He screams.

“Argh!” She screams.

“Shit shit shit.”

There’s an angry blare of the horn and Lardo sags sideways into the centre console. The car stops abruptly and then Shitty’s out of the car. For a frightening delirious second she thinks he’s run off but the minute he throws open her door she realises how utterly absurd such a fear is. It’s Shitty she’s talking about here. Her husband. The man who waited nearly four years for her in college. He’d never leave her especially not when she is valiantly trying to not give birth to their child in the car by the side of the road.

“Okay baby.” He gasps, “We’re having a mother fucking baby.”

They’re going to have a baby by the side of the road.

“Noooo,” she whines, “Not here.” But really protests at this point are hopeless.

“Lards my universe, my sweet sweet duckling, my entire reason for existing- “

She finds it in her to roll her eyes at him.

“We’re having a baby by the side of the road. It’ll be a glorious anecdote for when we go to Providence.” He grins but it’s strained and it’s only when she really concentrates on looking at him that she reads the absolute terror on his face. He takes a deep summoning breath. “I can do this.”

“Well,” she pants (one, two, three, four) “you’ve read enough books.”

Shitty lets out a nervous burst of laughter. “Yeah I did didn’t I?”

He helps her out of the car and together they very very slowly make it to the back where Lardo tries to settle into the seat. Despite the panic and the pain she still has the presence of mind to be embarrassed about having her feet and her ass hanging out. Sure, she’s trying to push a human out but she was hoping to do it with some dignity, surrounded by doctors who look at people’s undercarriages all day, not home time motorists.

“Okay, okay, okay. So I guess just push when you need to huh? Oh fuck! I gotta wash my hands.”

“Glove compartment!”

No parent travels anywhere without hand sanitiser.

Shitty dives forwards yanking open the compartment and pouring way too much gel on his hands. “Ooh Watermelon.”

She wants to laugh she really does but all she’s got in her is a groan. Baby Knight two is ready to come out and they are pissed at being held in so long.

By her feet Shitty chants, “Oh shit oh shit oh shit. Okay I need to catch it.”

“Don’t drop the baby!”

“Right,” Shitty pushes his sweat slick hair back, “rule number one just like with the first.”

Then Lardo loses all ability to do anything except accept that it’s time to push. Fingers of one hand curled around the headrest and the other digging into the seat she grits her molars, bears down and with the next contraction rides the wave pushing and pushing until she has to break for air.

As she raggedly sucks in oxygen voices gather around them.

“Oh my god is she-?”

“Someone call 911!”

“You got this! Come on baby!” Shitty sounds like he’s cheering at a game. “Come on Lards keep pushing! Go go go!”

Ignoring the crowd situated at the business end of this marvellous and cringe worthy display of the miracle of birth she pushes and pushes until she can’t push anymore.

“I see the head!” Shitty’s voice has gone up an octave, his eyes saucer wide stare down between her legs. “Oh fuck. Oh Jesus fucking fuck! You beautiful little bastard yes!”

“Stop,” Lardo wheezes, “Swearing in front of the baby.”

“One more push Lards you fucking beauty.”

Lardo takes a deep breath.

Shitty laughs, high and manic, “They’re out! They’re out!”

Lardo’s arms and legs feel like jelly as she cranes herself forwards. “Are they okay?”

The air is still, all sucked in by the crowd around them. Shitty’s face is frozen halfway between heart bursting joy and heart stopping terror.

A long loud wail pierces the bubble of silence. “Oh my God.” He breathes. “Oh my fucking God. It’s a boy. We have a boy!”

Lardo sobs. In relief, in joy, in pain. She cries when Shitty cuts the cord (thank you gathering strangers), she cries when he places their son on her chest and kisses her cheek, his own face soaked. “Oh man.” He cries against her skin, “Oh man.”

In the distance a siren wails.

***

Half an hour later Shitty, eyes still round as dinner plates, sits beside her in the ambulance. He wasn’t kidding about them being close to the turn off ramp, the ambulance might have been here sooner but the incident ahead is only just clearing. In her arms a tiny pink faced infant with downy dark hair makes breathy sounds against her skin. When she places her lips against his head she inhales that impossible to describe scent of new baby, despite being delivered by a man whose hands were covered in watermelon scented anti bac gel.

“Oh man.” Said man breathes, smoothing a hand over his sweaty hair. There’s a smudge of blood on his forearm and a mix of that and placenta on his shirt. “I can’t believe that just happened.” They both take a moment to disbelieve it together. “What’s the Vietnamese word for surprise?”

Lardo slides him a look. “You do realise my mom speaks French right?”

“Yeah but you said you wanted to give the kids Vietnamese names.”

She did say that.

“Google it.” She says. Her mother grew up in a French speaking orphanage. She speaks Vietnamese a little but she was educated in French. Lardo grew up learning French not Vietnamese. She doesn’t know the word for surprise.

Shitty shows her the screen which reads sự ngạc nhiên’ – surprise. He then youtubes how to pronounce it.

“I don’t think we can name our kid something that we can’t find a direct translation for.”

Shitty hums his agreement. Then as if struck by lightning he says, “What about Vinh?”

“Vinh?”

“It means glory or glorious. I think this birth was pretty fucking glorious don’t you?”

“Language.” She warns mildly, chewing over the name.

“We could call him Vinnie for short and then my grandfather would be able to pronounce it.”

Lardo snickers. His grandfather falters over Xuan’s name all the time. If he wasn’t so old and they didn’t visit so infrequently she’d be annoyed by how he uses his age as an excuse for what is just a wilful racist refusal to learn how to say a name that he won’t find in his bible.

“I like it. Vinh. Glory.”

“Wait until we tell Bitty about this.” Shitty beams down excitedly at them. “He is gonna fucking die.”

Lardo cups her palm protectively around their son’s tiny head and scowls, “Language, Shits.”

* * *

Bitty’s face fills up the phone screen “Oh my god honey are you okay?”

Thankfully Lardo’s shirt was not covered in placenta and other assorted birth goos so there was no need for a washed out pastel hospital gown but she does look like a woman who belongs in a hospital bed. Gone is the pregnancy glow of before and in its place is the post birth sag.

“I’m fine bits.” She smiles pepped up by some juice after the event. “Us women are very resilient.”

“Well I know that,” he tuts, “but you gave birth in a lay by! You’re trending on Twitter!”

Lardo jolts forward horrified, “I am?”

“Uh huh. Someone filmed you.”

She cringes.

“Nothing graphic!” Bitty rushes to reassure her. “Just your face all sweaty and- well actually you have the same expression Jack does when he’s playing against the Rangers.”

“I have Jacks angry hockey face when I’m in labour?”

“Or,” says a voice from the doorway, “Jack has your labour face when he’s playing hockey. Hi guys.” Nursey sweeps into the room followed by Dex who has a squirming Xuan in his arms. She wriggles and wriggles until he lets her slide down and then she’s climbing up on the end of the bed tucking herself under Lardo’s arm and staring at the screen.

“Hey cutie.” Bitty waves.

Xuan waves shyly then buries her face in Lardo’s side. Her daughter has a very big crush on their itty Bitty.

“She still has excellent taste I see.” He teases.

Lardo sweeps some hair back from Xuan’s face. “Holsters still lobbying hard. He told her he’d get her a p u p p y for her birthday.”

Bitty gasps theatrically, “He did not!”

“Swear to God. He’s not allowed obviously, two rabbits, a gerbil and the hens is enough.”

Bitty grins. “So where is he?” He leans forwards as if he could see round the screen. She turns the phone exposing Shitty holding the baby between two cooing former hockey players. “He’s so tiny.”

“You didn’t see Xuan either did you?” He shakes his head. “They’re so little but only for, like, five minutes. In a week he’ll be a fatty.”

Bitty laughs, “Hey you.”

Everyone is expressly forbidden from using his nickname since Xuan has started to parrot them all.

“Hey Bits. Meet Vinh.” Shitty’s grin stretches his moustache out.

“How are you?”

“My man,” he gushes, “I delivered my son by the side of the road. These hands of mine pulled him from his mother’s womb- “

“Dude stop.” Will grimaces.

“Into the light of day.”

“In front of a crowd of gawping strangers.” Nursey adds as if Lardo’s going to ever be able to forget it.

Shitty ignores them, “I am fan-fu- fantastic.”

“I’m so glad. Jack says hi and congratulations – I think he was tearing up. He’s at practice but he’s gonna call when he gets back. I can’t believe you gave birth by the side of the road. Lards that’s awfully spectacular of you.”

She shrugs and smiles ruefully, “And I wanted to be so low key.”

“Blame the painting.” Shitty says in a baby voice as he’s looking down at their son.

Bits frowns quizzically. “What painting? The commission?” She nods. “Wait isn’t that the one you’re doing for Thirdy and his wife?”

She grins guiltily.

“Oh my god I’ve got to tell Jack.” His hands move rapidly on the phone. A second later it trills “Ha ha he says he’s gonna give Thirdy so much sh- junk over it. Really increase your chances of a bonus.”

“It wasn’t his fault. I was super inspired.” Bitty nods familiar with how inspired Lardo gets when she’s expecting.

“You know Lards I knew you were stupid determined when you had us pretend to be the judging body of graduate art students and you practiced your audition for the studio space in front of us, but to ignore labour in favour of painting?” Will makes a face, “I mean I’m impressed but also confounded.”

“Classic Tango.” Nursey smiles wryly.

They all share a fond smile in remembrance of their constantly questioning team mate. Vinh makes a hiccupping noise and all the boys melt.

“So,” Bitty says after their moment, leaning forwards on his counter with a wide sunshine smile, “what kind of pie am I making?”

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