#currently trying my best to calm down (thinking so much about stretchy)

[fitzselfships]

me and him are chronic pain solidarity and we take care of each other when we have flare ups <3

[courtofjurdan]

One Chance part 17

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A/N: Hey peeps, I know it has been ages since I updated this, but here I am with an update. By the way, when you see “~”, it means its switching to past and then when you see another one, it goes back to present. And I got all my info from google and tv shows for this chapter so if it is not entirely right, I’m sorry. This is the last chapter. I have an epilogue planned also. I hope you enjoy this!

Jude felt pain ripple through her stomach and then felt wetness down her leg. She looked down expecting it her water to have broken but instead she was met with blood. As the pain intensified, the blood got worse.

“Cardan.” “Cardan!”

At that moment she realized she was at home alone. She went looking everywhere for her phone. Finally, she found it on the kitchen island, and called for an ambulance immediately. She called Cardan next telling him to either hurry and come home, something is wrong with the baby, or meet her at the hospital when the ambulance arrives.

Cardan hurried home from his job. He got there after the ambulance arrived. He went with her to the hospital and she was admitted quickly. They needed to do an emergency C-section before anything worse happens to the baby. They rolled Jude to the operation room, Cardan right behind her getting dressed in sterile paper clothes.

She gave birth to her baby, and the whole room was silent. You could hear a pin drop. Jude began asking, “Why isn’t she crying?” She looked to Cardan who had tears running down his cheeks and she knew her worst fears were being confirmed. She started to scream, “No, no, no…”

“No!

“Jude!” Cardan put his hands on her cheeks. “Wake up, baby. It’s a dream.”

Jude opens her eyes, tears falling out. Her breath coming in pants.

“Take a deep breath with me.”

Jude copies Cardan breaths. After she is calmed down, Jude says quietly, “She was dead and I couldn't do anything about it.”

Cardan knew what she was talking about. He put his hand on her very swollen stomach, “Look she's okay. You feel her kicking and moving around in there?” A nod of her head. “That means she is happy and healthy in there. There is nothing to worry about.”

~~~ Jude is 38 weeks now. She’s now very round, extremely emotional, and has crazy nightmares all the time. Cardan is always there to comfort and care for her around the clock.

Two months ago Jude and Cardan moved into the house his dad had bought for them as a gift. It was a two story house with 5 bedrooms and 3 full baths. They decided to get a house where they could live forever. A house they could fit their ever growing family.

Cardan got closer to his dad. His dad finally met him halfway into wanting a relationship with him. They met at least once a week for dinner or coffee. Cardan got a job at his company, a very good paying job. Unfortunately for Jude, Madoc still hasn’t wanted to mend their relationship, but Jude is okay with it. She doesn’t want someone that doesn’t want her.

When Christmas came around five months ago, they decided to have everyone get them baby stuff rather than presents for themselves. They basically had a baby shower for Christmas. Jude liked it because she is not a fan of planning parties or events.

It’s now the end of May, and Cardan and Jude finally graduated from college. They got to do virtual college because of the current predicament they were in. They only had to go to some classes, but mostly they did it from home. Definitely this last month, Jude just wasn’t feeling up to do stuff. She is always tired and sore, and just needs to take it easy. ~~~

Jude looked back at Cardan as he wiped her tears away and put her hand over her stomach to feel her baby kick. She repeated Cardan’s words, “She’s okay. She’s okay. She’s okay.”

Cardan kissed her cheek. And rubbed her back as Jude processed everything.

Then she grunted, “I need to pee. So help me up before I pee in the bed.”

Cardan laughed before he got out of bed and helped Jude steady her feet on the floor.

~~~ Jude has to pee a lot. Cardan swears she has to pee every 20 minutes. Which means Cardan has to help her every 20 minutes. But he doesn’t complain to her, it’s half his fault that she does, but he wouldn’t change it for the world.

Cardan never realized how hard it was on women to grow a baby. He thought they just gained weight and got tired but no, he was wrong. He didn’t know how uncomfortable Jude would be as time got closer. He didn’t realize how swollen her feet would become, how sore her back would be, the amount of loss sleep because the baby was restless or she was too uncomfortable. It made Jude so strong in his eyes.

Jude’s chosen family, Van, Liliver, and Garret, and her blood/adoptive family, Taryn and Vivivenne, were always there for her. And her family was excited to see their niece and become aunts and uncles. Her chosen family was surprised when Jude came to them and mentioned about them being aunts and uncles for her little one. She explained to them that they were more than just best friends. They were more like brothers and sisters to her. They all had an unbreakable bond with each other.

Jude and Cardan have set up the nursery. Jude insisted that she wanted a faerie book style room. And Cardan gave that to her. It’s a room any little girl would want, and when it came to Cardan, he would give anything both of his girls asked. But seeing Cardan trying to put baby furniture together was the best thing Jude has ever seen. She sat in a rocking chair every night watching him struggle, it was the best entertainment. At one point, he decided to call for backup, and Van and Garret came in and helped. So then Jude got to watch all three of them struggle together. But they eventually got it put together.

Jude has started to have Braxton-Hicks contractions for about a month and a half. Cardan hates them. Everytime she has one and she stills, he starts to freak out and Jude has to tell him it’s fine and calm down. It’s not like he feels the pain from them. But Jude is secretly happy he’s there for her and he cares so much about how she feels. ~~~ Once Jude goes to the bathroom, she asks Cardan if he will make breakfast for her. Her breakfast included popping some toaster strudels in the toaster and putting the rich icing on top. Jude basically has been craving anything sweet. So if it’s sweet, Jude wants it.

They eat breakfast and Jude decides to go to the baby room and go through stuff/ organize. She is nesting. She has gone through the hospital bag about three times already, she’s organized the kitchen several times, she cleans everything that she is able to, demanding Cardan to clean the stuff she can’t. And again, Cardan does it, because he doesn’t want to be on Jude’s bad side at the moment.

When Jude was resting from her organizing, Cardan got ready and left for work for his dad’s company. Cardan insisted that he stay with her until the baby is born but she said she would be fine alone. In the end, Liliver came over the days Cardan had to work. Liliver liked to call it their “girl time” before the baby got there.

It was about 7 o’clock pm when Jude decided to get a shower. Cardan was off at 8, and he was bringing home food which was right up her alley.

Now dressed in her pajamas, which consisted to be some stretchy legging and Cardan’s t-shirt, she made her way back to the bedroom. When she met the threshold of the bathroom and bedroom, she felt wetness run down her leg. She paused. All she could think was “Is this really it?”

She called for Liliver. “Hey, Bomb!”

Liliver was there in a couple of seconds. She saw Jude’s pale face and immediately asked, “What’s wrong?”

Jude stuttered, “Umm I- I think my water broke.”

Liliver looked down and saw the puddle of water gathered at her feet. “Oh okay, yeah. So, let’s just go sit down on the bed, I’ll clean that off the floor, and I’ll go call Cardan, okay?”

They slowly made their way to the bed. Liliver got a towel and put it over the fluid to dry it up, and got her phone out and called the man of the hour.

“Hey Cardan, I need to come home. Now.”

There was a pause. And then he seemed to find his words, “Uh, why? What’s wrong?”

“Well, all I have to say is ‘are you ready to go have a baby?’ Jude’s water broke.”

Heavy, nervous breathing came back to her, “Oh my gosh, really? Okay, okay, I’m leaving now. Is she okay? Crap, no she’s probably not okay, what am I thinking, she’s having a baby. Do I need-”

Liliver stopped his rambling, “Cardan, stop, Jude needs you to come home. Everything’s okay right now. I’ve got it handled.”

“Okay, I’m leaving right now.” With that he hung up.

Bomb helped Jude get some shoes on and braided her hair so it was out of her face. Knowing if it was down, all her hair would stick to her face from the sweat that was already starting to bead on her head as her contraction got stronger.

After she finished having one, Liliver asked, “Jude, have you been having contractions today?”

Panting, she said, “Yeah. I thought it was just Braxton-Hicks contractions, but I guess I was wrong.”

“Why didn’t you tell us? Cardan would have stayed home with you.”

Jude glared at her. “Exactly, Cardan would have stayed home and fussed over me. I don’t want someone taking care of me, I’m a big girl.” No, what Jude didn’t say is that she’s scared. And saying it aloud makes everything a reality, and she is not ready to admit that yet.

Not fifteen minutes later, Cardan comes through the front door. He walks quickly to their bedroom. He sees Liliver and Jude on the bed. The former rubbing Jude’s back through her contractions.

Cardan bends down in front of her and gives her cheek a kiss. He grabs her hand and waits till the contraction passes, rubbing small circles on the back of her hand.

When it is over with, he tells Jude, “I’m going to change my clothes real quick, and we will head out, okay?”

Jude nods her head. Cardan can tell how nervous and stressed she is.

He gets up, changes into some sweat pants and t-shirt, puts some Nike high tops on, and goes back to Jude, bending down in front of her, “Okay, you ready?”

Tears immediately fill her eyes, which isn’t a shock, she cries about everything these days, but when her body starts to shake with nervousness, Cardan knows this isn’t her just being an emotional basket case.

He immediately has his hands cupping her cheeks, “Hey Love, what is it? What’s wrong?”

A sob wracked through her, “I’m scared, Cardan, I’m so scared. What if I fail her? What if something goes wrong?”

He put his hands on either side of her stomach, “Hey I’m scared too. But guess what? We get to meet our little princess today or tomorrow, and that’s all that matters. She is going to be so loved. You’re going to be an amazing mom, I know you will be. She is going to love you so much. It’s okay to be scared, but don’t doubt yourself.” He gave a kiss on the lips. “You’re so strong, nothing is going to go wrong.”

Jude opened her mouth to reply, but at that moment a contraction hit her, and the words dissipated from her lips. But Cardan was there to rub her back, and tell her to breathe.

After it was over, Cardan grabbed the baby bag from the living room and headed out to the car with Jude. Liliver promised she would clean up a few things and lock the house before she leaves. Cardan thanked her, internally grateful for such a friend.

Cardan helped Jude into the car, and then got into the driver's seat. He blew out a big breath, and a wide smile bloomed on his face. He looked at Jude and said, “Let’s go have a baby.” He leaned across the middle and put his hand on Jude’s belly and kissed her lips excitingly. It made Jude smile right back.

The car ride wasn’t too bad. Even though Jude grunted and cursed, she didn’t complain once. She held onto Cardan’s hand while he drew circles on top of it, asking if she was okay. Which just aggravated her.

Once arriving at the hospital, the nurses took her back to a room. The room had machines, obviously a hospital bed, a chair for Cardan, and in the corner was a little bed for the baby to be checked out in. It was so surreal to them.

Cardan helped Jude change into her hospital gown, and helped her lay in the bed. The nurse came and put monitors on her stomach, one looked at the baby’s heartbeat and the other could tell when contractions came and how strong they were. The nurse then started on IV to put her on some fluids.

Doctor Tatterfell came in to check how far she was dilated. Which was a 5, she couldn’t believe she was already halfway there. Hence, she has been having contractions since this morning so I guess it does make sense.

But now, at 10pm, the contractions hurt bad. She held Cardan’s hand like it was her last lifeline. And Cardan, the ever encouraging boyfriend, let her, and he massaged her back and whispered sweet nothings about how good she was doing and how strong she is.

She got into different positions throughout the hours to try and relieve some of the stabbing pain that pursued every 5 minutes.

After finishing having one, Jude said, “Cardan, next time massage my lower stomach and my lower back at the same time. It might help.”

So that’s what Cardan did. It seemed to be the best right now to relieve some pain. Soon a nurse came in asking if she wanted an epidural which she immediately said yes.

They again checked to see how dilated she was, and they told her she was at a seven, and then they went ahead and gave the epidural.

Soon, Jude was numb from the belly button and down. Cardan held her hand as the needle went into her back. He couldn’t believe how big the needle was though, he was very nervous for her, not that he would tell her that. But she took it like a champ. Cardan let her know that much too.

Now she was laying back down, getting in a comfortable position on her side. Cardan wiped a cold rag on her forehead, she had sweat quite a bit in the last three hours.

He laid the rag down on a tray and muttered, “You’re doing so good, baby. I’m so proud of you. Rest now while you can, okay? I’ll be right here if you need me.” He was going to sit in the chair they had provided him.

Jude spoke quietly, “You rest too.” Jude ran a hand over her stomach. “I have a feeling we won’t be sleeping much tomorrow.” She smiled up at Cardan.

Cardan softly laughed and kissed her lips right before he went down and kissed her belly.

Soon they both were resting and asleep. Jude got about 2 hours when she started to feel the numbness wear off. She didn’t wake up Cardan, wanting him to get as much needed sleep as he could get.

Taryn came in while they were still sleeping. Jude wanted someone there that could document this moment, and Taryn said she would happily record and take pictures of this monumental day.

But soon, the pain increased, which means her groans of pain got louder. Unfortunately, she couldn’t keep it quiet enough, and Cardan heard it. He rushed to her side and grabbed her hand.

After the pain subsided a little, she called out, “I feel a lot of pressure, Cardan.”

His eyebrows shot up, “You feel like you need to push?”

She nodded her head.

Cardan spoke quickly, “Okay, wait just a second, let me get a nurse.”

Cardan opened the door, went out the hall a little bit and got a nurse. In no time, Jude’s team of nurses and her doctor came into the room.

Doctor Tatterfell checked her and said, “Okay Jude, when you feel another contraction go ahead and push.”

Some nurses held her legs back while Cardan held her hand and let her squeeze it to the point of it feeling like it was breaking.

After 15 minutes of pushing, Cardan muttered into her ear, “You’re doing so good, Jude. I’m so proud of you. You’re almost done.” Cardan could tell how tired she was.

She pushed again and panted, “I can’t. I can’t push anymore. It hurts and I’m so tired.”

Cardan looked past her legs and back at Jude, “Jude, honey, you can do this. She’s almost here. She’s already crowning. We just need a few big pushes, and she’s here. I know it hurts, and you’re tired, but it’s going to be so worth it when this is all done.” Tears started to well up in his eyes.

Jude put a determined look on her face and breathed in deep, and pushed.

Cardan mumbled to her, holding her hand, “Push, push, push, push. Good job, baby.”

This happened two more times, and on the third push, Jude felt relief. She then heard her baby girl crying, and her baby was placed on her chest. She gathered her up in her arms, admiring the little body that wailed with life.

She couldn’t help the tears that fell from her eyes, couldn’t help the sob that tore from her throat. She heard the nurse ask Cardan “Dad, would like to cut the cord.”

He did, and turned back to his girls. Jude heard a sob to her right, and turned her head to see Cardan with the widest smile on his face, tears falling from his eyes.

Cardan looked at Jude, kissed her forehead, kissed the baby’s head and said, “She’s so beautiful.”

Jude sniffed. “She is.”

They took the baby away to be checked by the nurses and doctors while they cleaned Jude up from the rest of the birthing part.

Taryn was still there and did her part. She took pictures and recorded like she was supposed to. She cried while she did it. This was an experience she would never forget.

They weighed the baby and checked her height. She was 7.4 lb and was 19 inches long. Born on May 28, 2020 at 1:09 am.

Soon the nurse came back over with the baby. “Okay. Here she is.” She gave the baby to Jude. “Do you plan to bottle or breastfeed?”

“I plan to breastfeed.”

“Okay then let's see how she does.”

The nurse helped her get the baby to latch, it took a couple of tries but she did it. After the nurse saw everything was going well, she left the room along with Taryn to give the family some alone time.

Cardan cupped the baby’s head as she fed from where he stood, “Jude, you baffle me. You brought this sweet baby girl into the world, and you did amazing. You did amazing carrying her for the last 9 months. And now we get a lifetime of happiness together.” He gently grabbed Jude’s chin from where she was looking at the baby so she would look at him. “Jude Duarte, marry me.”

Jude’s eyes widened and she whispered, “What?”

“You make me the happiest man in the world. I want to live with you forever, I want to raise our children together as husband and wife. I want to attempt to be the man you deserve every single day for you and our family. You bring out the best in me. So will you make me an even more happier man if that’s even possible today and marry me?”

Jude eyes filled with more tears and she nodded, “Yes, Cardan, yes, of course.”

They kissed as the baby unlatched herself. Jude broke the kiss and looked down. The baby had gone to sleep. She looked at Cardan and smiled, “Okay, dad, are you ready to hold her?”

Cardan nodded enthusiastically and held out his arms. Jude met him halfway and gave him the baby. He sat down in his chair by the bed and gazed adoringly at her.

And for the hundredth time that day, Cardan cried. He let the tears roll down his face, unashamed. This was the happiness of his little family, his baby girl that had dark brown hair, and looked to be like golden brown eyes from the little bit she did open them, and his fiancé that blessed him with all this joy.

He looked down at his baby and ran a finger down her cheek, and with a thick voice, breathed, “Welcome to the world Liam Rose Greenbriar. I’m your daddy.”

All Cardan could think of was he was so thankful that Jude gave him one chance.

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[inactiive-shit]

Electricity

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Masterlist

Warnings: references to past issues, intrusive thoughts, Remus-normal stuff

Pairings: Platonic Intruality, background romantic Royality

Words: 2,224

Summary: Remus is like the clock that still has cogs. He does work. It is just a different kind of working than others are used to. Sometimes, he must be wound, sometimes his gears malfunction and he must be reset. Sometimes people ignore his face for the ones printed in pretty, glowing numbers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Remus is vibrating.

That’s not some weird metaphor for sex, he’s not alluding to anything that isn’t exactly what he means.

What he means is: his body is running about a million gigawatts through every single atom. How else would you explain the flailing arms, bouncing legs, loud screeching noise that is coming out of his mouth, or the white streak in his hair that he swears wasn’t there yesterday? No, there is no other explanation. Remus is being electrocuted enough to kill an elephant ten times over and he still has the unfortunate luck to not only be living through it but aware of it as well.

Which, really, depending on which Gods he’s currently worshipping, is deserved. Zeus would probably smite him, given half a chance. But that isn’t Remus’s problem until it actually happens, and this isn’t that.

No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. This was one thousand - I’ll raise you two - I’ll raise you three thousand percent electricity made and controlled by Remus’s own brain because sometimes even his body is against him. He can’t always control the bullshit that comes out of his mouth, and sometimes he feels disconnected from his arms when they flail around and accidentally land a gnarly black eye, and do you really think he would keep bouncing a hole through the floor with his leg if he had the choice to just stop for a minute?

But he doesn’t, because things often don’t work out for Remus. It’s just what he’s come to expect. Stupid because he can’t do easy things, nonsensical because he can do hard ones. Confusing because he reads with music on, lying because he can hear your watch ticking from across the room and cannot do simple math with a distraction like that. Uncaring being so impulsive, wrong for trying to be considerate. Always, always, Remus is never enough.

Remus is like the clock that still has cogs. He does work. It is just a different kind of working than others are used to. Sometimes, he must be wound, sometimes his gears malfunction and he must be reset. Sometimes people ignore his face for the ones printed in pretty, glowing numbers.

He doesn’t know who the problem really belongs to, whether he is running too fast for everyone else’s day, so that he has twenty-eight hours for their twenty-four, or if they simply don’t know how to read the time on an analog clock, with it’s spinning hands and whirring parts. He figures there’s not much to figure out about all that, not really. At the end of the day, he is the one out-numbered, he is the one impulsive, he is the one with oxymorons that run like code through his system that works for him and no one else.

Remus is not the problem, he is their problem.

But right now, more specifically, he is Patton’s problem. Roman had left him alone in his house, assuring him that he’d be back in half an hour. Due to some crappy traffic, crashes, making a few other stops, and having his other friends require his help, Remus was still sitting - bouncing off the walls in his house alone when Roman’s fiance Patton got back.

In the twenty minutes proceeding, it’s all been downhill.

“Remus, please stop that,” Patton says, mouth twisted into a politely downturned smile most likely because it’s not the first time he’s said it. This is also not the first thing Remus has done that made Patton ask him to please stop. It doesn’t feel like as much of a win as it usually does with Patton’s genuine if nervous smile when he’d first seen Remus today.

Remus launches the bouncy ball at the wall again, snatching it out of the air before it can shoot away to break one of their overly expensive vases. He grins at Patton, lips pulling a little too wide, and does it one more time, then pockets the ball.

“So so so,” Remus sings, flipping himself upside down on the couch and staring at Patton. “What’s up with you, A-Pat-thy? Get it? Like apathy but-”

“But with my name, yeah,” Patton says. There’s almost a smile on his face, which is not the kind of reaction Remus’s nicknames usually get but he’s not objecting. “Wait here,” Patton says and leaves the living room. Remus takes the ball out of his pocket and puts it in his mouth instead. There’s not much reason to it, just rough and round and in mouth. It has no taste but it feels like stretchy sand, which Remus will make the second he gets the supplies he needs.

“Let me ask you,” Patton says, returning with one hand held behind his back, “how fondue you find puns?” He presents Remus with fondue-covered bread. Remus jumps off the couch, clapping his hands.

“Oh, punderful!” he exclaims, accepting the bread for the olive branch it is. Remus may be a million things that other people have accused him of, but he’s never been dense - as much as Roman would have liked him to notice less. He knows a peace offering when he sees one.

“That’s just too cheesy!” Patton says, really laughing.

“You better be bread-y because there’s more where that came from,” Remus says, pointing at Patton with his bread. He cackles.

“Well, well, well, you better just Skittle on out of here, because puns are my business and you are about to go bake-rupt,” Patton says. He makes finger guns at Remus and Remus collapses back onto the couch, clutching his wounds gravely.

“Oh no, the Sheriff of Punnery has yeasted me again.” Patton wrinkles his nose. “On bested?” Remus asks. He refrains from saying his buns were just too powerful because that can carry connotations and this is his brother’s fiance; he doesn’t want to make things too weird when he actually kind of does want Patton to not-hate him.

“It’s passable,” Patton says. “But I think I out-punned you this round.” They both laugh at the last, unexpected pun of their duel, and Remus has to concede defeat here. He nods acceptingly.

“I must agree. My brother has picked a worthy adversary.” Remus’s leg starts bouncing again now that he’s sitting down, and the electricity is coming back full force so that the air around his skin is crackling with energy he can’t touch. It’s arcing through his veins like molten rocks, leaving behind a desire to jump and scream and move, but his leg bounces and he picks at his nails and chews his lips and tries not to be any more obnoxious than he has to be.

“I have some spaghetti I was going to heat up for dinner,” Patton says. “It’s nothing special, and if I’d known you were coming I would have made something better, but we can split it.”

“That sounds pasta-tively delicious,” Remus says. “I can’t remember the last time I had spaghetti.” Patton laughs and goes back to the kitchen - which, from Remus’s limited understanding of their life, is where Patton lives. He can’t say for sure, but he’s pretty sure Patton is some kind of human-sized brownie that enjoys cooking. Is it technically bestiality that Roman is going to marry him?

Remus is still musing over Patton’s perilous status as human and rubbing the carpet bare with the ball of his foot when Patton returns with two plates of spaghetti. He sits on the couch next to Remus, which is strange. Not many people sit next to Remus if they can help it. He doesn’t say anything though. As much as he’d like to make a crude innuendo or pun (as much as they’re clawing up his throat to be voiced), he will not mess this up. They’ve only just decided to be brothers again, and he won’t fuck up like last time.

“Do you like it?” Patton asks, jolting Remus. He nods hurriedly.

“It tastes better than any gourmet rat I’ve ever had,” he says, shoving another handful in his mouth. Patton’s face twists up again, but Remus can’t and won’t just not talk. “You know, there are a lot less rats in dumpsters than you’d expect to find. And there’s a lot of stuff that’s totally functional that people just throw away. It’s crazy. The world would quit working without trashmen. They can make or break an entire neighborhood. Once, when Roman and I were kids, there was a huge storm on garbage night, ended up with trash all up and down the streets. I don’t know who cleaned it up, but it wasn’t us.” Remus keeps talking until he’s forced to stop to breathe at which point Patton interjects.

“I noticed that you move around a lot.” Remus immediately stops all movement before it picks back up and the intensity increases. “Which is fine,” Patton continues hurriedly, “but I was just wondering if you had heard of something called pressure stimming? It helps me when I start to get restless. I just thought of it because fidgeting that much makes me tired.”

“I have never not ever heard of such a thing,” Remus says, speaking quickly. He flutters a hand through the air and it looks kind of like a drunk hummingbird. Wouldn’t that be an interesting sight? Remus adds it to his to-do list. “What does it entail?”

“You just apply pressure to yourself, like sitting on your legs or something. Or you can do it with another person on a larger scale.”

Remus doesn’t say doing it, huh? How forward of you despite that being the loudest thought in his head for approximately five seconds. “You mean punching people.” Remus nods wisely. Punching is a good way to calm down.

“No!” Patton cries. “Nothing violent! Like cuddling.”

“Yeah,” Remus says slowly, “I have no idea what you mean.” He lifts a shoulder nonchalantly and shoves another handful of spaghetti into his mouth. But then his plate is lifted out of his lap and he looks up into Patton’s eyes, much closer now than he had been a few seconds ago.

“What’re you doing?” Remus whines, watching his plate leave him with all the regret he can summon.

“Can we cuddle?” Patton asks. “Like, platonically?”

“Uhm, sure?” Remus says. Patton pushes him so that he’s laying down flat on the couch. Remus turns his head to look at the wall and wonders what on earth his brother’s fiance is about to do. If something goes bad here, if Patton does something Remus didn’t ask for, Roman will still believe Patton over him.

Remus can’t lose his brother again. Not so soon after getting him back.

“What are you,” Remus starts and begins to sit up, but then Patton is flopping carefully on top of him. Remus’s back is pressed firmly into the couch. Patton makes a comforting weight on his chest that almost lets him drown out the stupid voice in his head yelling chew his hair and pull the threads so his shirt comes undone and he’s in eye-poking range.

“Take a deep breath,” Patton says. Remus does as he’s told without thinking about it first - not always a good thing to do - and immediately feels like he’s settled exactly where he’s supposed to be, with the couch firm under him and Patton solid above. He’s content.

He hasn’t felt like that in a long, long time.

“Do you like it?” Patton asks.

“Yeah,” Remus says. He reaches up hesitantly to rub his eyes, almost afraid that if he moves this apparition will evaporate (it wouldn’t be the first time.) “It’s...nice.”

“I’m glad,” Patton says. He pauses for a moment and Remus wonders what thing he’s not saying, what Remus is doing that is wrong and bad and loathed-

“You’re not fidgeting as much,” he says quietly, which is definitely not what Remus had been expecting. “Do you feel calmer?”

“I-uh.” Remus chokes and he flutters a hand in the air before trapping it at his side. He’s surprised to realize that he doesn’t really feel that electricity burning through his synapses, telling him to pick his hand back up and fling it around like a badminton racquet when the shuttlecock has gone out of range. How strange.

Remus’s eyes flutter shut before he can stop it and he sighs heavily, giving himself fully over to the comfort of the moment. “Yeah. I feel calmer.” His fingers trace patterns against his pants and his leg shifts. Patton moves slightly and Remus holds his breath, hoping that he hasn’t done anything to make Patton mad at him, but he only adjusts himself to Remus’s new position and stays where he is.

Patton hums on top of him, and while the otherwise silent house is a bit too much for Remus, this noise isn’t entirely unpleasant. He finds himself slipping away, feeling so tired and okay and really, actually safe here that he shuts off before he can stop it. His last solid thought is wondering if Patton is like a lightning rod, attracting the electricity out of Remus so that Remus can finally relax. His brother really did fall in love with someone good. Despite everything, Remus is glad that he’ll have that.

He falls asleep without electricity snapping against his skin. It is a singularly amazing experience.

[itsyokythings-blog]

My Five Acres. Travel. Adventure. Yoga. My Five Acres. Travel. Adventure. Yoga. - Travel. Adventure. Yoga.

If you’re looking for a hot mat that combines beautiful design with eco-friendly innovations, take a closer look at Yoga Design Lab mats. We share our thoughts on their mats, for home and , in our review below.

What’s in our review of Yoga Design Lab mats?

1. 3. 5. 7. 9. 11. The Yoga Barn in Ubud, Bali. He saw a sea of uninspiring mono-coloured mats and wondered why it had to be that way.

This inspiring moment led to his permanent move to Bali, where he started Yoga Design Lab, with a mission to create beautiful, functional, and eco-friendly mats. The mats are now sold all over the world.

The Travel Mat is a great choice for ling s who like to sweat.

Yoga Design Lab sent us their Combo Mat, a two-in-one mat and towel combo, and their Travel Mat, a lightweight folding mat for so we could try them out.

Since we got them last year, we’ve spent a lot of practice time on both mats.

Read on to see what we think of our mats so far…

Yoga Design Lab Hot Yoga Mat

Also don’t miss these posts:

The 7 best mats → Best eco friendly mats → Best destinations →

See more reviews & prices for the Yoga Design Lab Combo Mat →

Travel Mat

Price: $56 / £42 Weight: 0.8 kg (1.8 lb) Thickness: 1 mm thick Material: Recyclable natural tree rubber & microfibre

See more reviews & prices for the Yoga Design Lab Travel Mat →

View this post on Instagram

What do you think of the new Ikat design? 😍 .

A post shared by Yoga Design Lab (@designlab) on Feb 27, 2019 at 6:31pm PST

Yogo mat or one of these eco-friendly mats instead.

Part recyled water bottles, part natural rubber, these mats are 100% beautiful.

When you’re choosing your mat, pay attention to the colours, which could have an impact on your mood as you practice.

Blues and purples may have a calming effect, whereas, if you want to fire up your practice, choose something the gold and orange ranges. Studies on colour psychology show that colour preference is very personal, so the best way to choose is to hone in on a mat design that speaks to you.

Functional design

The mats don’t just look pretty, though. They have great functional design as well.

The best hot mats perform well under hot and sweaty s!

The Combo Mat features an upper layer of microfibre, that acts as a replacement for a towel. It absorbs moisture and sweat and provides good grip while wet.

The microfibre layer is soft and smooth; it doesn’t feel anything like most mats. You do have to engage your muscles to stay solid in standing poses and down dog, which will help you build those muscles!

The unique surface also allows for smooth — your toes won’t lose a layer of skin on the transition between up dog and down dog, and you can slide from hanumanasana to lunge without bringing the mat with you.

View this post on Instagram

Get your on with the new Tribeca Flow print 🌞🙌 –

A post shared by Yoga Design Lab (@designlab) on Oct 27, 2018 at 8:17am PDT

portable mat out there but it is our favourite for hot .

The Travel Yoga Mat is slightly thicker than most mats.

This has a couple of benefits:

First, it feels more comfortable on cold hotel room floors than thinner mats I’ve used.

Second, folding it doesn’t cause any creases or wrinkles.

Though I haven’t used it for long enough to truly test its durability, I expect that the microfibre layer adds durability to the layer of natural tree rubber, which can be quite stretchy and easy to pierce on its own.

The thickest mat is the Combo Mat, which, at 3mm, is slightly thinner than many of the at-home mats we’ve tried. It weighs just over 4 pounds, which is about average.

The Commuter Mat falls halfway between the Travel Mat and the Combo, perfect for the who wants one mat to cover all uses: at home, in the studio, and on your s.

See Yoga Design Lab mats on Amazon →

Yoga for Youth, who offer free to kids in Saskatoon, Canada

Find out more about the programs or reach out about your own program.

I love the unique design of Yoga Design Labs mats and couldn’t get enough of staring into the misty blue swirls on my mat. I also really like the soft surface, which is comfy even on the coldest, hardest floors.

Also, they are reasonably priced so offer good value for money!

For my practice, the lack of stickiness was a problem, since I rarely do hot and am not particularly sweaty.

If you’re looking for an eco friendly mat for hot that is absorbent, grippy when wet, and beautiful, then we can highly recommend a Yoga Design Lab mat.

Check prices and buy Yoga Design Lab mats →

These super-absorbent towels are made from the same microfibre as the mats, using recycled plastic bottles and water-based inks.

Yoga Blocks

Yoga Design Lab’s recyclable blocks have a textured pattern for better grip and less slip on those challenging poses.

Yoga Straps

Not only are these gorgeous straps the prettiest ones we’ve ever seen, they’re eco-friendly and recyclable too. They’re also super soft, helping you stretch further and hold longer.

I hope this review of the Yoga Design Lab Combo and Travel Mats helps you decide which mat to buy for your next adventure. As always, we only review products we use and love! If you have any questions, please give us a shout.

♥  Happy mindful adventures, Jane & Stephen

We’re not going to lie, it takes a LOT of work to create guides like this. But it’s easy to help us out! If you book or buy something using one of our personal links in this post, we’ll earn a small fee at no extra cost to you. Of course, we would never recommend anything we didn’t 100% believe in! Huge thanks in advance! –S&J

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The post Yoga Design Lab Hot Yoga Mat [In-Depth Review] appeared first on My Five Acres. Travel. Adventure. Yoga..

[hazydaysinbelleville]

On baby-wearing

Baby-wearing look: polka-dot cotton housedress with buttons down the front for easy breastfeeding; double-breasted tweed coat with enough fabric to encompass baby; red suede loafers, made in France; Chilean fabric made into the baby-wrap that is holding Casimir; Casimir’s orange and black hat knit for him by his Grandma Tamara in Sweden. 

Some notes on my look here: I have a white swaddle blanket around my neck as a kind of scarf. If you look carefully at the second photo, you can see there is a pacifier tied onto one corner. This is in case Casimir feels like a nap, for quick access. The Sorbonne tote bag on my shoulder is our only diaper bag at the moment. It can be hooked easily around the stroller handlebar and it’s gender neutral, and while those are real advantages, inside it’s chaos. I’m thinking of getting something more organized. Also notice the large bottle of water in my hand -- breastfeeding makes you constantly thirsty. 

About baby-wearing: 

It’s extremely cozy to go around with your baby on your chest. For any given trip to the grocery, if I have to choose between having Casimir on my chest, having him in the stroller, or leaving him at home with his papa, my enthusiasm will always be for the first option. It’s extremely calming and purely pleasurable to have one’s baby snuggled so close while out in the world. It removes all the stress of wondering how he is doing elsewhere, while also giving a feeling of freedom and autonomy and ease of movement. 

Casimir also seems to prefer it, for the most part. When he’s in a carrier on my chest he looks around at the world, and always goes into an extremely alert, quiet mood, as though he felt the burden of responsibility. And he almost never cries.

That said, there are downsides. When it’s warm out, it can be very hot. It can be rough on the back. It’s heavy. Casimir can’t get any exercise while he’s in one -- he can’t kick his legs around the way he likes. For these reasons, I would never want to eliminate the stroller entirely, and any time we’re going out for a long time and I think Casimir will take a real nap, I like to have the stroller so he can lie flat and sleep a long time. If we’re going to a restaurant, I like to have the stroller so he can sleep on his own while we eat. Or if I’m going shopping for clothing, obviously it’s nice for him to be somewhere safe while I try things on. 

There are about a million different types of baby-wearing devices currently on the market, meeting virtually every thinkable taste and requirement. We now have three, and I’d say all three are worth having. There are pros and cons to each. 

1. The wrap

The simplest is the one you see above: a baby wrap composed of one long piece of fabric, at least 4 meters long. Many baby-gear companies have tried to market their own long strip of fabric as though it were something special, and while it’s true that the degree of stretchiness of the fabric and the fabric’s general quality make a difference, for people like me who love textiles it’s worthwhile to just find a great piece of fabric. I bought my piece from a Chilean woman living in Paris who had it made in Chile. But it was only 3.2 meters long, and therefore impossible to tie the knots I had in mind, so I extended it using some navy blue grosgrain ribbons I bought in San Remo. I’ve been delighted with the results: since the part tied behind my back is just thin ribbons, it’s less heavy altogether as an object, and less bulky when leaning back in a chair against the knots. Meanwhile, the fabric is a wonder. 

Pros: 

-- First and foremost: breastfeeding. The wrap can be tied in a great variety of ways, including as a sling, and baby can lie in all sorts of positions, making discrete, on-the-go breastfeeding extremely simple. The wrap itself acts as a screen.

Would you guess that Casimir is eating in this photo? No? Nor did anyone else at the supermarket. With the wrap, you can take out your breast and latch baby on invisibly, all while maintaining a brisk stride (I took this photo several weeks ago when Casimir was still eating nearly constantly and extremely unpredictably -- nowadays I probably wouldn’t feed him at the supermarket...)

-- Style. If you have a piece of fabric you respect, the wrap is least likely to disturb the tone of a great look. While this might seem like sheer vanity, the early weeks and months of motherhood are hard enough without the abnegation of such small pleasures. 

Cons: 

-- In the summer, the wrap is very hot (en revanche, very nice now that’s it’s cold out.)

-- It’s not fantastic on the back -- you can develop some backache. 

-- If you’ve gone to visit people and have taken the baby out to pass him around, and you feel like removing the wrap from your body because it’s hot or ungainly, it’s inconvenient to re-tie the wrap -- hard to get the ideal amount of tension if you’re not concentrating on it. 

In summary, i recommend the wrap for longer outings in public, say, for going to a restaurant or going to a museum, where you foresee a possible need to breastfeed your baby but are unsure how much privacy and comfort you’ll have. The wrap gives me a great feeling of being insured against every possibility.

2. The Baby Björn Original Carrier

My mom made us a gift of the Baby Björn original carrier before Casimir was born and we’ve really enjoyed it. It has all the advantages of simplicity. 

-- Very easy to put on and take off -- much easier than the wrap. 

-- Very easy to put the baby in and get the baby out. Getting baby out does not require taking the thing off yourself. It has these ingenious clasps that allow you to get him out without even waking him up, if he falls asleep. 

-- Lightweight. 

-- Baby can face out at the world. 

Cons: 

-- VERY rough on the back. All the weight is up high between the shoulder blades; there is no waist belt at all. This leads to pretty severe back pain if you go out and walk a long distance in it. 

I recommend the Baby Björn for when you are going to visit people at home, and foresee having the baby passed around a great deal, and don’t want things to be complicated upon arrival and departure. 

3. The ergo

I realized how convenient the BabyBjörn was, and I really loved it, but I wished it wouldn’t give me back pain. So I decided to invest in an Ergo.

Advantages here are the comfort, and fantastic way of distributing weight. 

Pros: 

-- By far the best option for long distances, as all of baby’s weight goes into the hips, as it should with any good-quality hiking backpack. With the ergo, you basically don’t feel the baby’s weight at all. This alone makes it something you should have, all other bells and whistles aside.

-- Rain/sun protection. There is an awesome little hood that tucks into the front pocket of the ergo, and you can pull it up over the baby’s head to act as both a rain and sun shield. 

-- Cool front zipper pocket that is large enough for your wallet, keys, etc. so that you don’t need to carry any purse. 

-- Personally I think the army-surplus look of the original ergo is the only honest way of coming to terms with the reality of sporting a baby carrier. A lot of the thousands of newer baby carrier companies try to gloss the thing over by using prints and patterns that make you look like you decorated yourself with a set of placemats from Crate & Barrel. (I’m looking at you, Tula Carrier). 

Cons:

-- Compared to the Baby Björn, both harder to put on and take off, and also harder to get the baby in and out. Basically, you need to take the thing off your shoulders in order to get the baby out, and if you put the thing on before putting on a cardigan and jacket, it’s kind of a pain to have to take off all your clothes to get the baby out. It does have buckles that you can undo, but it’s not nearly as simple as the Baby Björn.

-- I’m not such a fan of the big puffy shoulder straps. I know in theory they’re more comfortable, but they look terrible, and they don’t offer that much of an advantage since the weight is in your hips anyway. 

-- For babies as small as Casimir, you need an “infant insert”. While this insert thing is cute and works well, it’s a pain to have to keep track of two items. Like if I go out with the stroller and the ergo, and at some point I want to transfer the baby from the ergo into the stroller, imagine me: I’ve got the baby, I’ve got the diaper bag, I’ve got the swaddle blanket, I’ve got the infant insert, I’ve got the ergo itself -- I end up feeling like a juggler. A stressed, sweaty juggler, trying not to drop anything onto the sticky sidewalk. 

In summary, I recommend the ergo for when you’re going out on a long walk with the baby that you foresee being physically demanding. With the ergo you’ll feel comfortable the entire time, and manage more than you would with any other carrier. But it should be the kind of outing where you don’t foresee transferring the baby in and out a lot. 

Here I am walking home from a very comfortable trip to a flea market on Sunday with Casimir in the ergo: 

[fromringtoveil]

#141 - The Fattest Bride You Know

http://fromringtoveil.com/fattestbride 

Today we discuss a blog post that we both found very interesting on fat brides.  Listen in to hear our commentary on all the things mentioned in the blog post.  

From Blog Sweet Jane Says 

**Author's Note: I wear a US size 14-16 and I fully acknowledge my privilege of being a white, acceptable fat. My experience was extremely poor and I cannot imagine (but would love to hear about) the experiences of other fat and super fat brides** 

104 days still isn't enough time to get a wedding dress for a fat bride with a budget of $1500.  

I should have bought my dress a year ago when I got engaged. It doesn't matter that I was pregnant at the time and had no clue what the hell my body was going to do or how it was going to look, I should have bought that dress and altered my body any which way I had to in order to fit in it. Or at least that's what I walked away with from the first (and only) bridal appointment that I arranged.  

Honestly, I was on the fence about doing any bridal appointments at all. There is something about trying clothes on in front of people that really does not appeal to me. When I try stuff, I want to take it in solo and judge it worthy before I show it off, but if "Say Yes to the Dress" has taught us anything, that is just not how wedding dress shopping is done. Plus, I told myself, maybe, just maybe it will be fun.  

I picked a very cute, Instagram-worthy shop on the west-side of Atlanta to be my jumping off point small shop and very intimate  

 My maid of honor, who is also engaged, and I (unbeknownst to each other) picked the same day and had back-to-back appointments, which was kind of magical because we could try on dresses together.  

My friend, who is also plus-size, had her appointment first. She is getting married a year from now and had a bunch of stuff to choose from. In all honesty, the first dress she picked was so stunning She rocked the hell out of it.  

I wanted a super boho, not too traditional dress, preferably with some lace.  We pulled seven or eight and I couldn't wait to try them on. I had a baby five months ago and abdominal surgery two weeks ago so I'll admit I'm not feeling my physical best, however, I thought I was sort of getting back to myself.Not a single dress even came close to fitting. The first dress wouldn't fit on my arms so I was forced to walk out of the dressing room pushing them in front of me like I was holding an invisible platter. 

 The second dress I barely squeezed into and was so tight the zipper wouldn't go up at all so the assistant shoved what looked like a pillowcase in the back of it so my entire butt wouldn't be exposed. The third one was a "very stretchy, forgiving fabric" according to my assistant, which is the only reason I was able to get it slightly into place and it was still so tight I felt (and looked) like I was jammed into a sausage casing.  

I stood in the dressing room, wearing a pair of loose, high-waisted maternity underwear, and tried not to cry while my assistant held up dresses and said: "this won't fit, but imagine what it would look like on." If I want to imagine what a dress looks like on, I'll stick with my fat girl forte and buy something online.  

The dress that I was most excited about, was marked 50% off because the style had been discontinued, I was not even allowed to attempt to try on because there was no way that it would fit and the assistant seemed seriously concerned that I would rip it.  

Okay, so I know what you might be thinking "well you just went to the wrong place, you can go to a bridal salon with plus sizes!"  

I emailed the salon and let them know my size, my wedding date, and my budget well ahead of my appointment and even made it seem like it might be an issue. They told me to come on down and that they would definitely have something to accommodate me. In fact, when we got there one of the bridal assistants even bragged about how they "do all this research" on their clients before they come so that they can pull stuff that we'll love.  

I made the appointment because I wanted to feel like a bride. I've had a rough year. I had a baby, I had all these medical issues that ultimately required surgery, my relationship with my partner has been under a decent amount of stress because of this turbulence, and I haven't really gotten to do the fun wedding stuff.  

 Instead, I felt like an outsider intruding on this lovely world where of course nothing would fit me because I am not ideal nor am I welcome.  

Sometimes it is really hard to be body positive and it is even harder to be fat positive.  

This year, the average size of an American woman was officially bumped up to a 16-18, brands and retailers are slowly, but surely starting to design more fashionable, affordable plus-size clothing, and indie brands are killing the game (shout out to plus-size bloggers Gabi Gregg and Nicolette Mason whose Premme line was popular that their website crashed almost immediately after launching), so why are we still marginalizing plus-size brides?  

After my appointment, my bridal assistant sent me an email and said that my timeline and price point were the problem and told me to check out Reformation or BHLDN. I'm familiar with both. Neither stock plus-sizes.  

 Jane Janeczko is a Northeastern-born, Midwestern-educated, Southern transplant currently living and writing in Atlanta, Ga. This just mostly means that she doesn't have any discernible accent, but she does say some words weird. She likes dogs, ugly clothes, and dying her hair. You can reach her via email at jane.janeczko@me.com or on Instagram @jane_czko. 

***Listener question*** 

Hi Shannon & Kim, 

First of all, thank you SO much for your awesome podcast! I found it shortly after I got engaged and it’s been so helpful throughout my planning process. 

I’m hoping you can help me with a unique question about my wedding day jewelry. I’m wearing this totally awesome illusion neckline dress that I’m kind of obsessed with, and from the moment I tried it on I knew I wanted to wear it with my hair up and with some drop earrings. That got my mom really excited because she wore some really pretty gold drop earrings in her own wedding. They’re not super fancy; they’re from some costume jewelry designer who was popular back in the 80s (think Kendra Scott quality). My mom is SO tickled that her earrings are exactly the style that would look great with my dress, and I know she really wants me to wear them. I agree with her that it would be really special for both of us, and I think the earrings are beautiful in every aspect except for one – the color. 

What I’m struggling with, and what I haven’t told my mom yet, is that I really want my wedding day jewelry to be silver. Honestly, gold would clash with everything I’ve envisioned for the the overall look, feel, and color scheme of my day. 

Do you think it might be possible for a jeweler to transform my mother’s earrings from gold to silver? Could they maybe plate them with Sterling or Rhodium? I’m not sure whether that’s something they would even do with costume jewelry. And if it is a possibility, how do I approach my mom about it? I’m worried she’ll be offended or hurt that the earrings in their current state aren’t quite what I want, and she might not even approve of me altering them at all. 

 I’m really hoping you can help because this has got me pretty stressed out and you ladies always seem to give such sound advice! 

 Thanks so much, 

 Alli 

Remember you can reach us anytime by emailing info@fromringtoveil.com 

Subscribe to the podcast: {Apple Podcasts} {Google Play} {Stitcher} {Youtube}   

-Until next time, No Stress No Worries Keep Calm and Listen On-  

New Episode!!

[duskwalkertfp]

Detour

“Are you sure it’s a clean signal?” Duskwalker asked, her paws flying over the ground as she ran full-tilt towards the point Naomi was directing her to.

“There is no telling if it is entirely clean, but there are no identifying signatures to suggest it is a pirate, or rogue, group,” Naomi responded and Duskwalker admitted she was right; there was no way to know if it was a ‘clean’ or safe distress signal. Pirates and rogue groups often used them to lure in would-be do-gooders, like herself evidently, to help anyone in need. Duskwalker had nearly been caught this way on two occasions and only Naomi’s fast processor had gotten them out of trouble. That and thankfully most groups aren’t used to a single-manned ship.

Duskwalker’s run ate up the distance between where she had been and the distress signal at a steady rate. The storm was still roiling overhead, but it had stopped raining for a moment. Lightning burst across the sky, lighting up the distance in front of her in start contrast. It almost didn’t seem real how jagged edges and crumbling sides could look even sharper in the harsh lighting. The remaining puddles of rain only helped to reflect it back at the metal walls and seemed to light up the ground with pools of white plasma. It made her paws itch to run through them, knowing she’d have to clean the joints out later to prevent any further discomfort. She wouldn’t suffer any ill effects as long as she didn’t let the acid sit on her armor longer than necessary. Rather it was the lining in-between her armor plates, the stretchy material allowing her such extreme flexibility, which worried her. Duskwalker didn’t know how well it held up to the rain.

“I’ll need to come back after this, or have you pick me up,” she said, some-what sullen. “It’d be best for me to take a full decontamination bath and clean out my joints. Do any of your files list whether or not my inner-linkage is able to hold up against Cybertron’s acid rain?”

“Inconclusive,” Naomi said, “he makes no reference directly to Cybertron’s weather, but it’s highly doubtful he would build your armor to be of a lesser standard than another Cybertronian’s, however caution dictates we not take a chance. A decontamination bath and examination of your linkages will be in order.”

“Then you might as well prep for take-off and come pick me up, if there’s anyone injured I’ll need my medical kit,” Duskwalker acknowledged, swerving around a chunk of metal much too large for her to simply jump over, using her tail as a rudder to keep up her speed without losing her balance, “unless you think the storms will be a problem?” It could be, though Duskwalker didn’t think so. Everything was starting to clear up and now only the occasional bout of lightning crackled in the sky. Mostly it was all distant rumbles of thunder.

“No,” Naomi responded, Duskwalker puffed hot air out of her vents, pulling in new cooler air to keep her actuators in her legs from over heating, “the storm is only a category one now. Low wind velocities, the lightning itself even at a direct hit would do little to disturb my circuits, and in any event low altitude flight is recommended to keep my frame off the radar.”

“Why’s that?” Duskwalker asked, approaching one of the many energon lines that crossed the ground. She increased her speed as much as she could and once she was at the edge she drove her front paws down, swiftly followed by her back paws, and put as much force into her legs as she calculated was required, but just in case she added a flick of her tail in an upwards motion to put to use all her forward momentum.

Duskwalker leaped over the glowing crack in the ground, elongating her body by stretching her legs out in front of her. Plates shifted on her frame, stretching out to reveal the linkage-material in-between them. Others first overlapped and then separated to allow her maximum length. Her tail remained curled up over her back and as she came to land she angled her front paws down, drawing her back legs up, and took the majority of the force into her shoulders. The force rolled up into her shoulders and she allowed her elbows to bend, rolling her back legs forward and planting her paws down. Duskwalker felt a bit of a jolt in her frame, but otherwise she continued to run forward without missing a beat.

“While it is most likely the Autobots have an array set up for any large craft, they will also be scanning for mid and small craft. The Decepticons, should there be any on the surface, will be doing the same. Cybertron may be restored, but the possibilities of the war being completely over without any ‘after shocks’ is unlikely.”

“In other words you don’t want to be spotted,” Duskwalker said, smiling a little, “you could have just said you don’t want to be noticed and I would have gotten it, but you don’t need to fly low-altitude to do that, or otherwise Renegade’s losing his touch.”

“Perhaps I merely wish to practice my low altitude flight capabilities,” Naomi said, sounding a little peevish. “You’re coming up on the signal now, I suggest you slow and scout the situation at hand first.”

“Agreed,” Duskwalker said, slowing down until she was able to crouch, slinking along the ground towards the wreck she now had in her visual range.

In all it looked rather old; there was no smoke coming from the wreckage, no fire, but of course it had just rained. Still it smelled as though it had been here for a few days. So why had the distress signal come online now? It was possible, she theorized, that whoever had crashed had been knocked offline for a while only regaining consciousness now. Or perhaps the acid rain had caused a short circuit in the wiring. There were any number of reasons the distress signal could inexplicably come online, but regardless Duskwalker intended to investigate.

Moving in a counter-clockwise direction Duskwalker creeped closer and closer to the wreck, pulling air in through her vents and testing the samples she collected in her olfactory array. So far the acid rain had wiped away a lot of the information scent could tell her, but she could pick out a tang of old energon. Whether it was blood energon, or energon from the ship’s engine, was difficult to tell at this point.

“I am currently enroute to your position, Duskwalker,” Naomi sent a short comm. Duskwalker acknowledged with a ping on the frequency and started her forward stalk towards an opening she noticed in the small, one man, ship. Her back paw replaced the front paw, her body remained low with her belly almost touching the ground, and for once her tail remained quite still trailing along behind her as she moved forward to sniff the opening.

A faint whiff of blood energon slithered its way out to her and Duskwalker wrinkled her nose in disgust. It smelled foul, tainted, but not necessarily by sickness. Rather it smelled like an old injury, encrusted with rust. She’d need to be cautions, then, because it was nearly impossible to tell the difference between cosmic rust and the normal rust one formed around a wound if it was allowed to oxidize. The danger was that there existed only two ways to know for certain you were dealing with cosmic rust: If you safely collected a sample and analyzed the microbes involved within the rust, or the person who made first contact begins to rust at an accelerated rate. Of course this was in cases where the rust was relatively new, and Duskwalker was fairly certain this rust smelled old.

“Attention,” she said, her voice level and calm, “my designation is Duskwalker, field medic, I am entering your ship. Please refrain from firing your weapons. My only intention is to help,” she could not say she was unarmed, in her feline form alone she could cause a good bit of damage with fang and claw, then there was the club-like mechanism at the end of her tail, not to mention her batons and bow-staff in robotic mode.

“Slagging pit-spawn, about time someone showed up,” the mech inside growled. Duskwalker flicked her ears back and forth, listening intently for a second voice. This could still be a trap, but she detected no other sounds. No spark beats, no thrumming of engines outside of the one mech, and no impatient shuffling or gears whirring. “Are you going to help or am I going to rust to death before you get in here?”

“A moment,” Duskwalker commented, “is your rust covering a percentage larger than your wound?”

“What? Slagging think I have cosmic rust? Ha-” the mech’s laughter quickly broke down into rough coughing; he wasn’t trying to ‘clear’ his throat rather it was possible energon, lubricant, or coolant, could be flooding his vocoder. “Would have blasted myself days ago, it’s taken me this fragging long to get the distress signal going with only one good arm that ain’t pinned under the fuselage.”

Duskwalker creeped further into the ship, dipping her head under a tangle of cables that were still sparking a little despite the damp air and made her way to where she heard the mech speaking. He lay on, what used to be, the wall. His arm pinned under a chunk of the ship which had caved in on top of him. His other arm rested across his broad chest plate, energon dribbling out of several wounds and his mouth, proving Duskwalker’s theory about his vocoder being flooded, and rust coated a severe looking wound in his leg. Easing closer, finding it rather daunting to be close to the big bruiser, Duskwalker finally came out where she could be seen by the mech and he let out a cry of remorse.

“Ya’ain’t no where big enough to get my arm out of this scrapheap,” he growled, coughing and sputtering up more energon. Duskwalker ignored his outburst for a moment and eased closer, carefully sniffing the air around him and taking any number of measurements, scans, and cataloging what she was seeing. His arm was badly crushed, she wouldn’t be able to save it even if she had someone else here to help her move the metal pinning it. His leg, too, she thought he might lose, but more troubling was how bad the rust had gotten. Had it gotten into his lines? He’d need a full systems clean if that was the case.

“I have my ship coming to pick us up,” Duskwalker said calmly, transforming and pulling her scanner out; that at least she kept on her regardless of where she was, “and together we’ll get you out of here,” then she looked at him steadily, measuring him for  a moment and sighing.

“Ain’t going to keep th’ arm am I?” he asked, “slag-it, I ain’t got the creds to replace it,” he looked down at his mangled leg, and seemed to deflate. “Or that.”

“Don’t worry about that right now, I have some spare limbs that should be about your size we can install until we can figure out proper replacements,” Duskwalker told him, easing closer to take a better scan of his arm. She needed to know which connections; energon lines, etc. were simply pinned shut or had actually fused shut due to a leak and his self-repair system tending to the wounds.

“Right, and how much’ll that cost me?” “Probably about nothing,” Duskwalker said, distracted now as she probed deeper with her scanner, the primary energon line was pinned shut, it had been protected by a number of other lines; coolant and lubricant as examples. She’d need to see to that first, the mech didn’t need to ‘bleed’ out. Her ears flicked and she pulled air in through the vents on either side of her helm, a more dedicated system to her olfactory array, and sampled a few of the particles that were coming off the wound. Analysis began immediately, but she turned to take a look at his leg.

Here his self-repair had done a fair job of fusing shut the damaged lines, but again the primary energon line would need to be seen to manually. Duskwalker noticed that the frame of his leg was unsalvageable. Something had taken his leg and twisted it harshly, though it was difficult to tell. The lower leg, too, was badly crushed and the rust had already started flaking the edge of the wound.

“Nothing? You’re not one of those slagging pirates out to make a piece on a wounded mech, are you?” He asked her suspiciously, pulling his good hand forward to transform it into his blaster. Duskwalker brought her head up sharply and looked him in the optics.

“You shoot that thing off and you’re draining away what little life you have left,” she stated matter-of-fact, “you’ve got barely enough energon in you to stay online. Are you trying to drain yourself dry until your spark shrivels up?”

“Hmph,” the mech grunted, “trust a medic to know how much energon a mech’s got left,” he disengaged his weapon, laying his arm over his chest plate. “What’s yer name?”

“Duskwalker,” she repeated for him, there wasn’t much she could do just yet except keep him occupied and online. If he went into stasis lock, most likely for the second time, he probably wouldn’t come out of it. “How about you?”

“DT1007-85M,” he replied, “working class foreman of work-group 11C-901J. Got left fer dead on a mining expedition, then news come ‘round that the Quints have been hauled offa the planet, but ain’t got no way to get back home. Finally got this hunk of junk runnin some few million years later and came back only t’find the place is in ruins.”

Quints? Quintessons? Duskwalker’s ears flicked back and then forward, curling her tail a bit closer to her frame. Renegade had told her there was a time before the first Golden Age when the Quintessons had reigned over their people, but other then that she knew very little of them. Renegade didn’t speak much about things before the first Age. She wasn’t sure other then he claimed it ‘made him feel old’.

“You realize how long the Quintessons have been gone, correct?” she asked, her tail flipping back and forth nervously.

“Aye, I do, though I couldn’t really believe it. Of course one of the reasons I got left for dead was ‘cause they were using stasis pods to transport us, only my pod fell off the back of the transport and down into the old mine shaft, was in stasis for quite a period of time before I came to. Lucky the pod wasn’t damaged. It kept a log of all Cybertronian transmissions all this time.”

“Stasis pods?” Duskwalker asked, her ears flicking, “why Stasis pods?”

“'Bout that time folks were starting to get suspicious about why the Quints were 'helping' us,” he told her, “course my unit was mostly made up of non-personality units. Not many of us identified ourselves as more than our unit numbers, but the Quints weren't taking no chances so when they brought a large group of us worker units out to a mine they wanted to cultivate they put us in stasis pods, so we couldn't revolt and steal the ship we used as transport.”

Talking was obviously helping the mech stay awake and Naomi, according to the latest ping, was almost there. Duskwalker watched him as he continued on to explain various things about his last mission and wondered at how much he was willing to tell her.

Here was a mech who had not experienced the horrors their own kind had inflicted on the planet.

It made Duskwalker smile and it made her sad. He'd left the planet when it was healthy and returned to a world that was still recovering from its own death. She'd help him get better and bring him to one of the new settlements the Autobots had set up. Maybe they had as much to learn from him as he did from them.

Naomi was still several clicks out and without her medical kit Duskwalker could do very little except disconnect the pain receptors in the mech's arm and leg. She moved forward and gently traced her finger tips over the armor of his upper arm until she found the necessary seam and opened it, but the stink of rust wafted up to her even inside of the wound. She'd have to move up to the shoulder joint and disconnect everything there, including the arm; would the leg be just as bad?

“So, how did you learn to talk in this manner?” Duskwalker asked, looking up at him, honestly curious, but also wanting to keep him talking. He made it sound as though he and the others didn't have much for personalities upon emergence from the Well.

“Picked it up when I was close enough to Cybertron,” he told her, “still trying to figure out which style of speech is 'me'.”

That would explain the altering accents and mannerisms, Duskwalker thought.

“I'm glad you have a chance to remake yourself,” she told him truthfully.

“So am I,” he agreed, quite polite now. Maybe he was trying to figure out whether he was the kind to be grouchy at everything, or accepting of situations outside of his control.

“Of course this pit spawned ship wasn't properly armored for reentry and fragging fell to scrap the moment it hit the atmosphere,” and it was back to swearing, Duskwalker tried to keep herself from laughing, but it was actually quite charming how he was trying out so many different speech patterns.

“What's so slagging funny?” he demanded as Duskwalker moved to check the connecting mechanisms between his leg and hip, glancing up at him and smiling.

“I'm sorry, I don't mean to laugh,” she apologized and then her features returned to a more serious expression. Even without opening up the necessary ports to disconnect pain receptors she could smell the rust. The entire leg, and arm, would have to go and he'd need a system flush. His energon lines would have to be cleaned and several of them replaced. This on top of the replacement of his limbs and refitting with ones that properly suited his needs... it was going to be a long procedure. Thankfully Renegade had the necessary equipment back at his workshop for constructing limbs. Not necessarily the right equipment, but Duskwalker could work around that with a few modifications.

“My ship is just a click out now, so once I disconnect these pain receptors I'm going to go out and make sure there's a clear enough landing space. I'll give you a link to my comm channel so we can keep in contact,” she slid her small fingers into the necessary port and did as she had described. His leg went completely limp and for a moment the mech's optics flickered. Duskwalker immediately pulled out her small light, forcing the optical lid open, and checked for a response. The illumination returned to his optics a moment later, but Duskwalker was worried. The pain of his arm and leg could be covering other symptoms yet she couldn't move him without first eliminating the pain and removing his arm and leg.

“Tha' felt weird,” he muttered, his words slurring a little bit, uncertain if he was trying out a new vocal pattern or not Duskwalker preformed another scan, this time she connected her scanner directly to a port at the back of his helm in order to start a full systems diagnostic. She had wanted to wait until she had access to the more powerful, and therefore faster, computer system on board Naomi, but obviously that wasn't an option now.

And it may not be an option at all.