#both covertly & directly I LOVE LANGUAGE

[namtanlovesfilm]

jane + responding to ryan's confession

[kykyonthemoon]

oh gosh i loved your “a surprise visit��� so much that it had me lamenting over caleb again ☹️

if you’re up for it, i would like to request headcanons for caleb with a reader who wants to cuddle him but is too shy to initiate. (i feel for the shy girls whose love language is physical touch 🙈)

thank you so much and have a great day!

Dear Anon-san,

It flatters me so much that you enjoyed "A Surprise Visit" I wrote for Caleb <3 With this request of yours, I decided to turn it into a story. I'm aware that it would be a little different from what you expected when sending me this request. Still, I do hope you enjoy this cute little piece.

For all the shy girls out there, I wish you courage to put your feelings into actions, just as MC does at the end of this story <3

When The Crabapple Blossoms

You had been waiting for a chance to tear down the last bit of the wall separating you both. He also wished for the same thing.

❀ Caleb x Female Reader/MC who is really shy

❀ Tags: fluff, shyness, adoptive siblings who are secretly in love with each other, domestic fluff, longing, pet names

❀ Word count: 1k3

❀ Masterlist

❀ Request

You had always been Caleb's shy little girl.

One day many years ago, when he had just been brought home by Grandma, there was a little girl, barefoot on the grass, holding a teddy bear, coming out to greet him. Grandma told the two of you to quickly get to know each other, but you said nothing and looked down. One hand kept the teddy bear tight, while the other grabbed the hem of Grandma's dress. You hid behind her and refused to look directly at him. Grandma had to coax you for a while before you could tell the boy your name.

It took you a while to open your heart to accept him into your life. You were the little girl so shy that she only talked to him through the teddy bear used to cover her face. Then, on another day, you got lost. You were terrified and cried until your tears dried. When you saw Caleb, the first thing you did was to rush to hug him. Since then, it seemed that the wall between you and him had begun to crumble.

You said, Caleb had such warm hugs. You would always feel safe and comfortable in his arms. A few more years passed, and Caleb grew up so quickly. He began to grow taller, and his arms became larger. That made you feel even more protected. He said, he must grow up fast to defend you.

And you gave him a new moniker: Mr. Bear. Instead of using the old teddy bear to talk to him, you began to regard him as a teddy bear with the size of a human; which was able to move and talk, and knew how to take care of you.

Still you were very shy. Except for that time when you got lost, you never made the initiative to get close to him. All the time, it was Caleb who started first.

“Pipsqueak, come here.”

Simple as that, you would obediently go to Caleb. He would pull you into his arms, caress your hair and gently rub your back. At times like those, you felt like all the troubles in the world disappeared, leaving only the two of you with this simple yet extremely precious warmth. And because you could not say it with words, you used those gentle brushes against his chest as a way to express your feelings.

Then, both of you grew up. Caleb went to the Academy and you started your training to become a Hunter. He and you had both gone separate ways, and there was little time spent at home or seeing each other. But you missed the feeling of being buried in his arms. It seemed that when you grew older, all your emotions no longer retained the simplicity of a child.

You were not sure how Caleb felt about you. You were too afraid to ask, and then received an answer you did not want. You anxiously waited for him to come back home every weekend, covertly studying every change in him. His skin began to tan, his hands developed calluses, and his muscles grew more visible. You wondered, during those days at the Academy, did he have a girlfriend? Had anyone else shared the same warm embrace that Mr. Bear once reserved just for you? You wanted to ask Caleb numerous questions but did not do so.

Since he knew your timidity, Caleb took the initiative in everything, from planning outings when he was on a break to holding your hand in crowded places. He was also concerned that you would dislike it; since after all, you were now a young lady and no longer the child who would follow him everywhere. He started asking more questions like: "Do you want to sit next to me?", or "Can I hold your hand?", and waited for your approval.

Of course, you were happy with the touches. Still you wanted a little more. You counted every day to see him again during breaks, hoping to touch him just a little more. But he never asked for it. Did he no longer wish to embrace you in his arms?

That day, you were silent the entire trip home from the movie theater with Caleb. As if realizing what you had in mind, he spoke up:

“Pipsqueak, is there something bothering you?”

Your footsteps paused on the bridge. Sunset tinted the sky with mild orange and pink, mixed with clear blue. You did not say anything, only shook your head.

“I know when something's wrong with you.” Caleb added. He did not accept your answer. “Say it, I'll help you out.”

You still felt like it was difficult to speak up. Your hands gripped the wooden bridge, nails barely scraping the surface. What to do? There was so much to say, but you had no idea where to begin.

“Some guy made you sad?” Caleb asked, half joking, half serious. You smiled and replied briefly:

"That's not it…"

While all you wanted to say was: No. The only person I care about is Caleb.

But he would never hear that, because you were too shy to say it out loud.

Caleb sighed. He leaned against the bridge, gazing at the sky in the East, while you turned towards the setting sun. In secret, you glanced at Caleb, halting at his shoulder. There was a small petal staying on it; that one must have fallen at the foot of the bridge where a crabapple tree was in full bloom.

Out of the blue, you reached out and picked up that flower petal. Caleb reacted fast and grabbed your wrist just in time. The wind surged. He stared into your eyes for quite a while.

You had been waiting for a chance to tear down the last bit of the wall separating you both.

He also wished for the same thing.

Since a long time ago.

“Well… um…” You hesitated. “There is a flower petal on… on your shoulder…”

Your fingers extended, the flower petal was lifted high by the wind. You glanced at it, as if to say farewell. Caleb still locked his gaze on you. Intense yet gentle.

He had yet to let go of your hand, while getting closer and closer to you.

"Pipsqueak." He called softly. “The truth is… Can I…”

You continued to wait. Caleb was about to say something but paused.

“Ah… Nevermind…”

His fingers wrapped around your wrist gradually loosening. You started to panic.

If I don't say it, he will never know...

If I don't say it, he will leave again...

If I don't say it, we will forever just be brother and sister...

“Caleb!” You called his name, so loudly that he was startled. You did not know where to start. Since when did you start looking forward to his touch? Since when did you hope to be a little bolder and tell him what you really wanted?

Better late than never. You looked at his hand that was slowly retracting, then decided to grab onto his arm.

“Caleb I… I want to…” It felt like something was bearing down on your heart and suffocating your throat. You could not do this. Your entire body trembled. But you had decided to seize this chance no matter what.

“I want to be embraced by you!!!”

After those words, you shut your eyes, your lips pursed hard. You clung to Caleb's arm but he did not feel the pain since his mind was preoccupied with something else. After a long while, when you felt his arms wrap around you, when the sound of his heart beating strongly and clearly heard, you opened your eyes then.

“Come here, pipsqueak. I also want to hold you close..."

Caleb breathed the words in the late spring air, faintly scented with crabapple blossoms; it made your heart burst. This was enough. Step by step, one at a time. There was no need to be in a hurry and let this dream slip away. Gradually, you would find ways to let Caleb know what your heart had to say.

[titularkilljoy]

sometimes and always

//a love story in five acts

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: It's hard to resist falling into bed with a cute neighbour, but it turns out it's even harder to resist falling for him. (alternatively- Spencer Reid and the reader struggle to resolve their feelings but make valiant attempts to do so while lying horizontally in each other's beds.)

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, strong language, decidedly non-American spelling conventions

Author's Note: SO. This fic was originally part of a fic swap for the wickedly talented @imagining-in-the-margins, but it is now over six months too late. Thankfully, patience apparently springs eternal in her?? besides all the other amazing things?? Unfair, but good for me. So, Pom, this one is for you. Thanks for being the absolute best and putting up with my rants and not judging me for mocking everything and everyone all the time. Love, Perpetually Tardy.

(i)

This is how it happened the first time.

I was frowning at the pitiful stack of mail in my hands, wondering if the conspicuously missing letters and subscriptions would ever be returned to me. Ever since moving to my new apartment, I had been at the mercy of the Postal System and that was never a good situation to be in. I’d resigned myself to having to take an extra trip back to my old building and do some investigating, when the elevator dinged and I stepped in. Just as the doors slid closed, there was the frantic rumble of footsteps and a hand slipping into the narrowing gap.

The doors sprang apart to let in the harried owner of the appendage, who barely spared me a glance before turning to face the front, eyes briefly darting to the buttons. It took me a second to recognise him. It was the guy from the apartment opposite to mine, although so far that seemed to be only a nominal living arrangement; in my two weeks there, I’d seen him exactly once, merely in passing, and we had exchanged a sum total of zero words.

I followed his lead and stopped blatantly staring at him, though I continued studying him covertly through my peripheral vision. He looked—well, his jawline looked like it could cut glass effortlessly and he had the soft chestnut hair of a male model and I knew I was probably going to develop a very embarrassing crush on him at some point��� but besides that, he looked browbeaten, his whole posture seeming to buckle under the invisible weight of the world.

There was an awkward moment when he realised we were both heading in the same direction, and I took it upon myself to break the ice.

“Hi,” I greeted, introducing myself, “I just moved in. I don’t think I’ve seen you around.” I gave him my warmest smile.

His swift assessing glance would have escaped my notice if I hadn’t been paying such close attention; his expression was still shuttered off, but he offered an endearing little quirk of his lips and an introduction. “Spencer Reid. I’ve-uh, I’ve been away on a work thing.”

“Oh? What do you do?” I asked, beginning a leisurely walk down the hallway and fishing my keys out of my bag. I immediately regretted the query when, impossibly, his eyes became even more guarded.

“I’m an FBI agent.”

Well, that clipped admission would have given anyone pause. “Oh, wow. That’s really impressive, dude.”

“Thanks.” He hesitated before adding, “I’m part of the Behavioural Analysis Unit.”

“So, you’re like a psychologist?”

“I catch serial killers.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable so much as it was brimming with my insecurities. The alcohol in my blood helped with that, though; the next words were out of my mouth before I even registered the thought.

“Do you want to come in?”

“Oh, uh—”

He was going to say no.

“It’s just that you look like you could use some company. And I think it’s absolutely criminal that we haven’t gotten to know each other yet.”

“It’s really late.”

But he was rocking forwards on his toes just the tiniest bit, leading me to believe that some part of him did want to take me up on my offer that night.

“So it is. Come on, Agent Reid. Be a good neighbour.”

“It’s Doctor, actually,” he corrected. “Doctor Reid. I have Ph.Ds. Three of them.”

My eyebrows had risen to my hairline and, sensing the change in the air, he hurried to put me at ease. “But you can just call me Spencer.”

“Huh. You don’t hear that every day.” I chuckled sheepishly. “Well, come on in, Doctor.”

There was a moment when his whole body leaned towards me and his face looked conflicted but slightly enthusiastic, and I was convinced I could turn the night into a very pleasant one for both of us. Then, with a loud clatter, my keys slipped from my hands, startling us. The moment was broken, and I sighed in resignation.

“Let me guess, you’ve decided I’m too drunk and we’re going to go our separate ways.”

At least he had the good grace to look apologetic. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea right now,” he told me slowly as he bent down to pick up my keys and pressed them securely into my outstretched hand, “It’s late and I’ve had a long day. I’ll...see you around?”

“Sure,” I managed to say with a regretful smile, “I’m holding you to that.”

*~*

That, however, turned out to be easier said than done, for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was the Herculean feat of unpacking and organising my new place with a mild hangover and a tinge of frustration over lost opportunities looming over me. Once that was dealt with, the bigger challenge turned out to be actually locating the man in question. I knocked on his door a few times, but when the responding silence continued to persist for over a week, I began to think he’d just been a drunken hallucination in the first place. And the longer I went without any follow-up interactions, the more intensely I started overthinking the slightly fuzzy memory of our brief conversation.

Of course I’d managed to make a fool of myself in front of a really cute guy. That was absolutely in character for me. Every time I passed by his door, I convinced myself a little more that I owed him a sincere apology for my poor, inconsiderate conduct.

Beyond the embarrassment, however, work didn’t leave me much time to think about it, and by the time I was trudging to my apartment the next Saturday, the whole encounter had been relegated firmly to the back burner. Naturally, that was when the faint glow of light under his door distracted me from the very passive-aggressive email I was composing. I hesitated.

The deep breaths I sucked in didn’t serve much more purpose than to make me somewhat lightheaded, but I forged on anyway. I knocked on the door, and waited.

There was silence, followed by the sound of reluctantly shuffling feet, and then, finally, I was face to face with Spencer Reid once again.

“Um,” I started, “hi.”

He stared at me wordlessly for a beat, during which I started to wonder if he’d actually forgotten me already.

“So, we met the other day, and I just want to apologise. I didn’t mean to come on to you so strongly, and I get that you weren’t int-”

“Do you want to come inside?”

“..What?”

“Do you want to come inside?” he repeated, enunciating clearly. That didn’t clear up my confusion, though.

“Um. Yes? Sure. I mean, no, shouldn’t we talk about this a bit?”

He let out a tired laugh. “I don’t want to talk right now.”

“Alright,” I said, biting my lip. I followed him inside, and pushed the door closed behind me; it emitted an innocuous little click as it fell shut.

There was something about the weariness behind his eyes and the careful set of his jaw that made me want to study him and understand what was going through his head, but all I could glean that night was that Spencer didn’t seem amenable to much time spent on documentation.

“So,” I began unsurely, shedding my jacket and scanning the contents of the room, the piles upon piles of books and the distinct lack of much else, “tell me about yourself.”

“Didn’t I already do that?”

“Hmm, that’s not the whole story,” I mumbled, running my fingers over a broken-spined, wrinkled copy of Paradise Lost laid open on a heavy wooden desk. A single smudge of blue ink stood out against the yellowing page, and beside it, the print read: This horror will grow mild, this darkness light. “You’re not just an FBI agent.”

“That’s all that’s important,” he asserted, taking a step towards me. He had one eye on my curiously wandering fingers and, sensing that it was making him more antsy than he needed to be, I tucked my hands into my back pockets, facing him with a grin of false bravado. I really wished I was drunk. That would have made things infinitely easier.

“Besides,” he continued, this time meeting my eyes directly, “I don’t know anything about you either.”

“Fair enough,” I conceded, stepping closer to him.

His eyes didn’t leave mine, until my own strayed to the bobbing curve of his throat and the tantalising motion of his tongue sweeping over his bottom lip. Not for the first time that week, I wondered how terrible of an idea it would be to try to kiss my attractive neighbour. I could see my own apprehensions mirrored in his stance, and I saw the exact moment when he identified the focus of my gaze.

I didn’t have to spend much time contemplating. He decided, just as I did, that any consequences of this impulsive decision could be dealt with later.. I lunged for him just as he closed the distance in one long stride, grasping my jaw in both his hands. Then we were firmly attached at the lips, and his arms wrapped around my waist and dragged me closer, seemingly intent on devouring my mouth. Gradually, our actions slowed a bit, the kiss turning softer and more exploratory, our tongues winding around each other gently, my lungs readily accepting his deep, nasal sigh.

His arms around my waist were a steadily spreading band of warmth, and I could feel the growing evidence of his arousal against my thigh. I found myself thinking I could be very happy with just kissing him like this, feeling his breaths tickle my face, letting my hands suffer minute pinpricks from the stubble littering his jaw. But then his grip shifted to my hips and tightened ever so slightly, and it was like I’d been doused with fuel and set alight. My fingers struggled to unbutton his shirt as he pressed distracting kisses along my neck, my soft whimpers breaking the relative silence of the room.

All of a sudden, the ground shifted and my stomach swooped, and it took a second or two before I realised I was now in his arms, being carried towards, presumably, his bedroom. Content, I got to work on undoing the last button and trying to slip the shirt down his arms entirely. He granted me a chuckle for my troubles before laying me down gently on our destination and taking it off himself.

He didn’t waste any time in sinking his knees into the soft mattress on either side of my legs, helping me out of my own clothes and methodically kissing every bit of newly exposed skin, until finally, I was clad only in flimsy cotton and he was nosing at my aching core. With two fingers, he deftly removed the last of my defences and pressed his mouth against me. I moaned, my hands flying to his hair and trying to keep from pulling too hard as he used his tongue to examine every inch of my arousal, evidently experimenting based on the sounds he managed to elicit from me.

“Oh, my God,” I babbled, hips bucking wildly under the iron grip holding them down.

“Tell me,” he demanded, pulling away slightly, “tell me how much you like it.”

“Spencer,” I breathed desperately, “Please. I need- I need more.”

He hummed leisurely against me, frustrating me to no end. My grip in his hair tightened at last, guiding him where I needed him most, and I swear I felt his lips stretch into a smile.

It went on for what felt like hours, but there was no earthly way I could have lasted that long. He took mercy on me eventually, plunging two long fingers deep inside me, closing his lips around the bundle of nerves that, predictably, sent me into a violent, shaking climax. He nursed me patiently through the aftershocks, waiting till my legs had stilled before rising to undo his belt and rid himself of his pants. I was already mourning the loss of his closeness, and I pulled him back on top of me the moment he was within reach.

“Come on, Doctor,” I taunted, “It’s time you made good on your promise and got to the main event.”

“I never promised anything,” he retorted, but the playful glint in his eyes excited me, and while he reached over beside us to the nightstand, I rose to the occasion.

“Oh? Well, if you don’t want to, I guess I’ll just head out, then,” I teased, going so far as to attempt to sit up from underneath him. I felt a low, threatening sound begin in his chest and make its way up his throat as his hands gripped my wrists and brought them down to my sides, pinning me in place.

It was my turn to chuckle at his eagerness, lifting my head to briefly peck him on his lips.

“Don’t worry, Spencer,” I cooed, “I’m not going anywhere. Now fuck me already.”

“With pleasure,” came the response, and while I wondered idly how a smirk could simultaneously be sinister and bashful, there was the sharp sound of crinkling foil, and then he cut off my thoughts by entering me in one fluid motion.

“Fuck!” I cried out, holding him around the shoulders, bringing him impossibly closer.

“That’s it,” he groaned in my ear, “let me hear you.”

He set a torturous rhythm, thrusting into me harshly before pulling out slowly, carefully, making me relish the sensation, anticipation building steadily in the pit of my stomach and spreading until it engulfed me. A ceaseless litany of moans and whimpers filled the air around us, the source of each barely discernible. At last, I could feel myself riding the very precipice, and his name began to fall from my lips like a prayer.

“Spencer,” I called, “Spenc-”

He swallowed the rest of my inconsequential cries, bringing his thumb to where we were joined to guide me over the edge, and as I convulsed around him soundlessly, he reached his own climax, blunt fingernails leaving crescent marks on my hips, his heavy panting breaths stuttering, once, against my clavicle, before calming and slowly evening out.

We stayed that way for a few minutes, my hand combing lightly through his hair, his closed-mouth kisses pressing against my neck like a balm. Eventually, though, we had to move, and it was he who did first. He pulled out and walked away from the bed without looking at me, tossing the tied-up condom in the trash. I sat up, cross-legged, watching him for a bit, pursing my lips when I noticed he was actively avoiding my gaze.

I cleared my throat. “Where’s your bathroom?”

He pointed in a general direction and mumbled something incoherent; sighing in disappointment, I stood up gingerly and went to clean myself up. When I returned, the room still smelled like sex, and Spencer was still evasive, but he was sitting on the edge of the bed now. He looked up when I entered, watching me pick up my clothes.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

I glanced over at him. “Yeah, I’m good. You?”

Nodding, he watched me get dressed, then followed me into the living room and watched me drape my jacket over my arm. Then he watched me walk to the door, all the while not saying a word.

The cool steel of the doorknob in my hand, I looked over my shoulder one more time.

“Well, Spencer. You know where to find me, I guess,” I muttered, shaking my head slightly. Then I left his apartment, and despite the enormity of what had transpired during my visit, the click of the door closing sounded exactly the same.

.

(ii)

Of course, after that, I resolved it would never happen again. The man next door clearly had some issues with what we had done, and I couldn’t be bothered to solve them. It was, frankly, idiotic to jeopardise the prospect of good neighbours in favour of sex, however great it might have been.

It was embarrassing how quickly my resolution packed its bags and jumped out of my third-storey window.

I was awoken the next morning by three firm raps on my door. I think I knew, somehow, who was trying to get my attention, so I took my time, but the reveal of Spencer’s regretful face didn’t surprise me any less. I was wary as I stared at him wordlessly, cycling through all the possible reasons for his visit, and his eyes dropped to the way my arms tightly hugged my midsection. He winced then, meeting my eyes.

“I’m sorry for the way I acted,” he blurted, and it sounded so rehearsed that I had to stifle a guffaw. There was a flicker of something in his eyes that could have been frustration, but he powered through. “I’ve had a pretty terrible week at work and I think I was trying to get something out of my head. But I was awful to you, and it was completely my fault. I’m sorry if I offended you. I had...a great time.”

I’d been watching him carefully throughout his speech, and if he was faking the earnestness in those last couple of lines, he was an extraordinary actor. I concluded, as I studied the apologetic slump of his shoulders and the dark bags into which his eyes had sunken, that I didn’t need to worry about the veracity of his words.

“It’s okay,” I said hesitantly. “I mean, no, it’s not okay, it felt really awful, but thanks for explaining. I get it now.”

“Oh,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking off to the side, “that’s great. Thank you.” He shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

“Problem?” I was bemused.

“No!” He was looking back at me, now. “I- well, to be honest, I wasn’t expecting it to be this easy. I thought I’d have to convince you.”

“Huh. Well, you can still convince me, Doctor. Give me a second to get ready. You’re buying me breakfast.”

I quite liked the shy smile that graced his face in response.

*~*

It kept happening. There was no way I could have stopped it, and there was no reason I would have wanted to.

We quickly grew into a familiar rhythm. Each time, it started with one of us having a particularly stressful day. Each time, it started with a knock on the door and some perfunctory shuffling around. Before wasn’t the time for talking. Each time, we’d stumble into whichever surface was closest, and every time it wasn’t the bed, Spencer would make some halfhearted protests about germs and hygiene, before I shut him up very effectively with a manicured hand on his dick. Each time, in the During, I marvelled at how well we fit together, how quickly we’d learned each other’s bodies, and each time, I saw more of him than I had the last.

And I loved every bit of it.

Spencer no longer retreated into his shell in the After. He’d try sometimes, but I knew how to coax him out, now. I’d slip my hand into his, ever so gently, and wait. Or I’d sling one arm around his waist until he returned the embrace. I was getting scarily good at reading him. It was like working on an intricate puzzle, and every new achievement was rewarded with a deeper, longer look into his mind.

I carefully stored away every casual anecdote about someone from work or his godson or his mother, and I loved to watch the life burn bright in his eyes. Of course, they were all happy stories. I could sense the bittersweet aftertaste they left in his mouth, but he never let me inspect it too closely. In turn, I regaled him with tales of my own, of my sister and my parents, of my cat that was perpetually falling asleep on top of me. I told him all the easy, palatable things, holding back just as much as he did, always careful to maintain the wall of superficiality.

But things did slip through the cracks every once in a while, from both of us-- they were bound to, what with the sheer amount of time we spent together in various states of undress. Things that made me burn with curiosity that couldn’t be sated without jeopardising the very foundation of our arrangement. So I turned a blind eye to the jagged scars on his thigh and neck when he failed to maneuver to hide them; in return, he kept mum when I walked into his apartment, on the day of my worst professional disaster, with runny makeup and bloodshot eyes, shivering all over.

If he noticed that I kissed the skin over his scars a little more tenderly, lavishing attention on him the first time I saw them, he didn’t show it. If he liked the way I always nuzzled my face into the one on his neck when we were done, he didn’t show it.

For my part, I tried very hard not to read into the slow, shallow thrusts or the almost reverent way he handled me when my tears still hadn’t dried. I definitely did not read into the arm over my shoulder or the slightly baffled crease in his brow while we sat on his couch with a random episode of The Office.

And if, maybe, the frequency of his visits increased as the months went by, who could blame him? He was an FBI agent. He probably had a lot of bad days.

Sometimes, though, I’d go over when I’d had a good day and I felt like celebrating. Sometimes, I’d knock on his door just because I was bored and I wanted to see him. It wasn’t as if he would know the difference. Our bodies knew how to be around each other, and that was all that mattered.

This was just stress relief, after all.

(“Have you ever been in love?” I asked him once, abruptly, my heart still pounding as the sweat cooled on our skins.

He glanced at me warily, but he must have detected only honest curiosity on my face, not lovesickness or anything else that would have had him running for the hills.

He chewed on his lip for a moment. “Once.”

“What happened?” My finger traced an aimless pattern on his chest.

“She loves me,” he said, “but she isn’t in love with me.”)

We never articulated any feelings we may or may not have about each other or our situation. We dodged sincere conversation like it would kill us. So all the pieces we owned of each other were ones that we had been remiss in guarding diligently. That only made them all the more precious.

But on the heels of every stolen glance, there was a moment where he looked right through me, where I felt blank and insubstantial, like I was a placeholder for something or someone, and that would be enough for the wall to be between us again, rigid and unrelenting.

It was a shame that I was stupid enough to hold on to the scraps that fell through anyway.

.

(iii)

I was an immensely stupid person.

That was the only explanation for why I was leaning against the outer wall of our apartment building at three in the morning, desperately shoving my hands into my coat pockets to brace against the cold.

“You don’t have to be here.”

Can he read minds now? I wondered sullenly. Spencer was sitting on the front steps, with his head in his hands. His hair was dishevelled, and his eyes were the picture of torment. I would have loved to console him, but every attempt so far had been firmly rebuffed.

He had knocked on my door an hour ago and silenced my greeting with a bruising kiss. Of course, I knew how to do that dance, but Spencer had been off his rhythm tonight. When I’d reached for his shirt, he’d pushed my arms away. When I had kissed his jaw, he'd flinched. When I’d finally retreated in concern to ask him what was wrong, he had huffed out that he was perfectly fine, before trying to lift my shirt over my head.

I’d pushed him onto the bed and tried to distract him, and he had responded by clenching the sheets in his fists instead of grabbing my hips. I’d whispered his name in his ear the way he usually loved, and he’d climbed out from under me, sitting up on the bed with his chest heaving. At that point, I’d given up. What had followed was an exercise in patience.

(“Spencer, what’s wrong?” I’d asked again, to no avail.

“It’s nothing. I don’t want to talk about it,” he’d gritted out, glaring at me.

I’d sighed. “Okay, which is it? Nothing, or that you don’t want to talk about it?”

Silence.

“Well something is clearly bothering you. Am I just supposed to ignore that?”

“We don’t need to talk about anything.” He’d tried to kiss me again. That time, I was the one who pushed him away.

“No, Spencer, this isn’t working. I don’t think we should do this tonight.”

The glare had intensified. “Fine.” He’d gotten up and tried to put his shirt back on, but his hands were shaking.

Cursing my investment in this man, I’d helped him while he stared daggers at me. When he’d hunted down his shoes and made his way out of my apartment, I’d pulled on my coat and followed, petting my cat briefly when he tried to follow us.)

So now we were outside, experiencing the most awkward silence ever known to man. Every time I attempted to put a hand on his shoulder or sit beside him, he would tense up yet again.

“Yes, Spencer,” I replied at length, “I do. You look like you might accidentally walk into traffic. I’m not leaving.”

“It’s not your problem.” The petulance was beginning to get on my nerves. I hadn’t signed up for sleepless weeknights.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” I told him, shrugging.

I pulled out my phone to distract myself with the cute animals in my game. Spencer was still worryingly silent. But if he didn’t want to talk to me and he wouldn’t let me near him, there was little I could do but stand there.

Every now and then, his breathing would hitch, and I would study him out of the corner of my eye. Whether he fully registered my presence or not, I was unsure, but he seemed to be calming down. He looked less on edge, his eyes less wild, and I was about to approach him and try again, when a black car pulled up just ahead of us.

Both our heads jerked to attention, but the petite blonde who exited the car only had eyes for Spencer.

“Spence!” She rushed to him, pulling him into a hug that he slowly reciprocated. “Your phone is off. After what happened, I was so worried,” she murmured into his hair, her eyes shut in relief.

And Spencer-- Spencer’s face was something to behold. His eyes were tightly closed, his lips turned down unhappily, and his face was so naked and open that I almost looked away. Almost. The pain that shone there riveted me. I felt as if I could see every wound he had ever suffered, in that instant. He’d never shown me that before. And he still hadn’t-- this wasn’t for me. The embrace broke, but his face stayed the same while the woman fussed over him.

Something came back to me, a fragment of a memory. She loves me but she isn’t in love with me. Unbidden, a sound of realisation escaped my throat, drawing two pairs of eyes to the dark corner in which I had been so far obscured.

Spencer schooled his face back to some semblance of normalcy, and ran a hand through his hair.

“Uh, JJ, this is--”

“Leaving,” I blurted out, then cleared my throat. “I was just leaving. Work in the morning. Nice to meet you.” I tried to smile at her, but it felt more like a pained grimace.

I brushed past both of them, but hesitated on the top step. “Spencer…”

His gaze was inscrutable, and I was too tired to try to decipher it.

“Feel better,” I mumbled, and then I left them there.

*~*

I was not sulking.

I told myself this as I lounged on the couch in my most comfortable pyjamas, stuffing my face with junk food and watching Michael Scott lament his foot injury.

So what if Spencer was in love with a beautiful blonde while getting him to talk to me was like pulling teeth? It wasn’t like I’d been carrying a torch for him. We were just extremely compatible sexually. And in very close proximity to each other. That put us in the ideal position to hook up whenever we needed it. That was the extent of our relationship. For all I knew, he’d been sleeping with other people this whole time. I hardly had the right to protest it if he had. We hadn’t set up rules. We just fell into bed together as and when we liked.

It was a good, uncomplicated thing.

So I needed to make sense of whatever needless jealousy I was feeling, before I ruined it. I couldn’t sit around being pathetic. I had a life.

There was a knock on the door.

Sighing, I turned off the TV and put the snacks away. Spencer was quiet as I let him in. His eyes roamed the small living room as if he didn’t know his way around my place as well as he did his own. I perched on the arm of the couch and stared at him, hoping my face didn’t betray the rollercoaster of emotions I’d experienced over the last forty-eight hours.

“So,” I started, “you okay?”

He looked a bit startled, as if he hadn’t expected me to address it at all. I tried not to roll my eyes.

“Yeah. I’m alright.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” I prompted, “It was pretty intense.”

“It-uh, it was a work thing. JJ helped me out.”

Of course she did. “Great,” I said aloud.

We looked at each other for a beat. “She’s the one, isn’t she?” I blurted before I could stop myself.

“What?”

“The one you’re in love with?”

There was a telltale spot of red high on his cheeks, even as he sputtered. “That’s not-- I mean, yes, but that was--”

“It’s fine,” I said cheerily. “I was just curious.”

He frowned at me. “She’s my best friend, it’s not--”

“No, I get it.” My stomach was somewhere near my feet. “So, do you wanna fuck?”

Again, he seemed taken aback. “What?”

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” I directed my gaze at his meticulously polished shoes.

“No.” A pause. “I just wanted to say-- would you look at me for a second?”

I forced myself to comply.

“I, uh, I wanted to thank you. For staying with me the other night.” The sincerity in his eyes was a bit too much to bear at the moment.

I hadn’t done anything, and I told him as much.

“You didn’t have to. Just being there was more than enough.”

“Right,” I said hollowly. “So is that it?”

“Yeah.” He seemed very lost. “Um, are you okay?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re acting kind of strange.”

“That’s because there isn’t usually this much talking,” I snapped.

I longed to smooth out the lines on his face and make him feel at ease again. This was supposed to be the good, uncomplicated thing. He was apparently making an effort. I could return the favour.

“I’m sorry,” I said, letting out a deep breath and rubbing a hand over my face. “Can I get you something to drink? We can talk about it if you want. Or just hang out.” I tried to squash down the hope that bloomed in my chest.

“Oh. Sure, if that’s okay.” He was chewing on his lip again, and it was unfairly appealing.

And so he stayed. I got two mugs of coffee, and when I came back, he was on my couch reading a well-worn paperback, as if he belonged there. I had to agree with the thought. When he heard me enter the room, he looked up with a smile.

When he left three hours later, I couldn’t remember what we’d talked about or the name of the book he’d abandoned within minutes, but I remembered the way he’d leaned close to me while gesturing wildly with his hands, and I remembered that we hadn’t touched beyond accidental brushes of our fingers the entire time.

He still hadn’t revealed the source of his despair, and I knew there was someone he loved. I knew whatever this was, it would be temporary.

But the smile on my face as I closed the door was real.

.

(v)

Spencer kept coming over. I was never given the chance to initiate contact because it seemed like he was always at my place. Whenever he was in the city, he would be with me. I started to worry about his apartment gathering cobwebs from the disuse. But I couldn’t honestly complain about this new development.

Sometimes we had sex, and sometimes we didn’t. Sometimes he came in sore and tired, other times he was brimming with excitement with a playful grin. Sometimes he was angry at the world and I was allowed to coax him down from his rage. Those nights were in turn infuriating and thrilling.

(“What happened?”

“Work.”

“That’s really helpful, Spencer, care to elucidate?”

“No.”

“Okay, caveman.”

“Shut up and take off your clothes.”

I’d rolled my eyes and complied.)

I enjoyed every bit of him. I wanted to observe and chart every one of his moods and his little quirks. I loved the small pile of his books that had found their way onto the coffee table. I loved introducing him to pop culture that he approached with the same diligence as he would a textbook of quantum physics. He was an eager student, and I attempted to return the favour whenever he launched into his obscure tirades.

Some nights I would drowsily let him in and he would crawl into bed with me, fully clothed. The following mornings, I would wake up with a silly grin on my face, seeing him utterly relaxed and at peace. We’d have breakfast in my kitchen and slowly come awake together over our steaming mugs of coffee.

It was fun, learning him.

In the dead of night, as I was drifting off to sleep, he would tell me bits and pieces of horrible things he’d had to see. All I could offer him then was a tight, protective embrace and a steady gaze as the words clawed their way out of his reluctant throat. It felt like he was giving me some sort of twisted boon, these revelations of his pain. I collected them just as carefully as I did everything else. If it was a part of him that was freely given, I knew I wanted it.

At intervals, I would have to remind myself that he wasn’t truly emotionally available. It wasn’t hard. I only had to picture JJ’s relieved smile and the raw uncloaked expression on his face that I had never seen again. He mentioned her every now and then, and I’d discovered that his godson was her child. He never seemed upset, talking about her family, but he wasn’t the kind of man who would resent another’s happiness, even if it was at the expense of his own. I knew that now. I still remembered the way he would pull away from me and flinch at my touch, and I knew I was playing a losing game. There was no way out of this where I didn’t get hurt. All I could do was try to control it.

Three months after that night outside our building, I knew I’d fallen for him.

I was in trouble and I needed to do something about it, quickly. So I stopped preemptively cancelling plans with my friends and coworkers. I joined a book club. I called in a guy to loudly fix my bathroom sink the day I knew Spencer would be getting home. I even got a gym membership. I tried to be away from home as much as I could.

Whenever Spencer texted me, I would let him know I was unavailable. His texts got progressively more frustrated. Watching the excitement on his face dim when I turned him away at my door was painful. But it was necessary. I convinced myself that when Spencer and I stopped existing in this vacuum without other people, my feelings would weaken and I would be able to get him out of my head.

It didn’t work, of course, and I spent every day missing him. I tried to distract myself with work and my suddenly-full schedule, but the feelings were still there. Try as I might, I couldn’t stop thinking of him every morning and every night, and every time I passed his door and every time I walked by a bookstore.

So when Neil from work asked me out a week later, I said yes.

I wore a nice dress and heels, and he picked me up. We went to a midscale restaurant and talked about boring first-date things, and I knew within the first fifteen minutes that I didn’t want to see him again. I went through the motions, smiled pleasantly at him, and told him I would take a cab home. When I walked dejectedly up to my apartment, it took me a second to realise what I was looking at. My heart leapt and I dropped my keys.

Spencer was sitting on the floor outside my door, and he looked tireder and older than I’d ever seen him. He had looked up at my approach. I froze.

“Spencer.” I hadn’t seen him in a month.

He looked me up and down, and there was an unhappy tilt to his mouth. I wanted to kiss it away. He reached for the keys and rose to his feet.

“Hi.” He held them out to me, and I wanted to laugh and the eerie reflection of our first meeting.

“Hi,” I echoed.

“Were you on a date?”

There was no point in lying to him. “Yes.”

He looked away, his jaw clenching.

Silently, I unlocked the door and held it open. After a moment’s hesitation, he walked in.

He paced the floor of my living room. I took off my shoes and put my keys on the table, waiting for him to speak. I felt out of sorts and unprepared for what was to come. Even when I heard him come to a halt, I didn’t lift my gaze to meet his.

“Why would you-- I thought we had something.” His tone was heavy with accusation.

I stared back at him in challenge. “Sure. We had something. But I didn’t want to fool myself into thinking it was more than it was.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Us! You. You send me all these mixed signals, and I know you’re still hung up on someone else but I let myself get in too deep anyway. I had to protect myself.”

“I’m not hung up on someone else,” he shouted, raising his hands in frustration.

“Of course you are!” I matched his volume. “You told me so yourself.”

“When did I do that?” He sounded honestly bewildered.

“A few months ago. You said you were in love with someone but she didn’t love you back. And then I saw you with JJ that day. I know it’s her. It’s okay. You didn’t promise me anything.”

Feeling drained, I wrapped my hands around my middle. The tears were threatening to fall, but I tried to hold them at bay. This would be over soon. It all would.

“JJ--” he barked out a laugh, surprising me.

“What about this situation is funny to you?” I demanded.

“No, listen--”

“You’re hot and you’re cold. You kick me out right after our first time and then you’re sweet the next day. How do you want me to feel about that?”

“I’m sorry about-”

“Trying to talk to you is impossible! I want to help you. But you clearly don’t want to talk to me!”

“That’s not--”

“And then you’re over here all the time, and I get that it’s because you want to distract yourself, but you have to know how it would con--”

“God, would you just shut up and listen to me for once?”

I glared up at him. He was undeterred, a strange glint in his eyes.

“I love you,” he informed me, striking me dumb. “It took me a while to realise it, but it’s true. I love you.”

All I could do was gape at him as he walked closer to me and took my tightly clenched fists in his hands. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I was holding back. I’m trying to be better. And I don’t know what you thought you saw between me and JJ,” he said very slowly, stroking his thumbs gently over my palms, “but all that’s there is a lot of trauma and shared experiences. Yes, I thought I loved her once, but that was a long time ago. We’ve never-- she’s not you.”

Traitorously, that tendril of hope began to coil around my heart again as I searched his face, looking for a trace of a lie.

I found none.

I surged forward, crashing my lips to his with no finesse and too much force, but he was ready for me, releasing my hands and cradling my waist instead. I gripped his hair, letting the tears spill at last, an overjoyed laugh bubbling out of my throat and into his mouth. I let my hands roam the hard plane of his body, the delicious ripple of wiry muscle beneath his shirt, the hidden softness that only I could feel.

“I love you,” I told him when we broke apart for air. “I’m glad I can tell you, I love you, I fucking love you.” Spencer grinned down at me, and the look was so fond I had to kiss him again.

The rest was a blur of hastily discarded clothes and the steadfastly ignored pain of knocking into furniture before we finally found my bed and tumbled into it.

(“All this time, I could have had you,” I groaned into his ear while he thrust his fingers into me, mouthing along my jaw.

“You have me,” he promised into my skin an eternity later, when he was inside me and my nails were scrambling for purchase along his back, my vision going white.)

That night, there were no painful confessions or taunting insecurities. There were just the two of us, blissfully entwined together, and the deepest of dreamless sleeps. Somewhere in the middle of falling out and falling back together, we had found our new rhythm.

.fin.

[kenzieam]

Not Happening, Doll - Chapter Eight (Bucky X Levi)

Rating: M (language, violence, eventual smut, angst, slow burn)

Genre: Drama/Angst

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*****************************************************************************

Well, Bucky is back, but is it too late? Levi gave him her heart once, will she again?

****************************************************************************

Four months later.

Bucky hesitated as he approached the common room. It was another infamous movie night and while this wasn’t the first one he’d attended in the last few months, he still couldn’t shake his nerves. He’d rejoined the team and was steadily winning back their trust, but he and Levi were still worlds apart.

The next time they’d spoke after that first emotional discussion, where she’d confessed that she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to trust him again; Levi had pointed out that she and Bucky had gone directly from adversaries to lovers, with nothing in between, and they needed to become friends first and rebuild through that.

While Bucky didn’t disagree, he missed Levi desperately. His sleep, always so broken had settled and smoothed right out when he and Levi had started sharing a bed, and now he was plagued with nightmares again; admittedly, they were completely new nightmares, usually filled with screeching metal and visions of Levi torn apart and dead, or Levi gunned down by HYDRA while Bucky watched helplessly, or the worst, where she simply walked away from him forever, but they were nightmares all the same and his sleep, so peaceful for a few short weeks, was now erratic and troubled again. He couldn’t even think about how broken and poor his sleep had been in the six months he’d been running without shuddering.

He leaned against the wall and looked inside. Nat had joined Clint on the floor, surrounded by a complete pillow fort, only their feet sticking out, while Wanda, Sam and Bruce had called shotgun on the beanbag chairs and laughed hysterically at Tony and Pepper, who glowered balefully from the love seat. The armchair and most of the couch were free; Steve was still monkeying around in the kitchen, and only Levi was seated at the end of the couch. Of course, it was obvious where Bucky wanted to sit, but he knew he couldn’t, he shouldn’t.

Would he and Levi ever get back to the point where he could just reach for her, in front of everyone, not caring who saw, and draw her closer to him? Just bury his face into her throat and breathe in her scent, feel peace and safety wash over him again? Without noticing, he’d crept further into the room and was now at a crossroads; he could go left and sit on the couch with Levi, or right and claim the armchair. He needed to go right; it was-

“Move it or lose it.” Steve chirped, segueing smoothly around Bucky, hands full of snack bowls. Bucky sighed internally, knowing the decision had just been made for him, and then gaped like a fish when Steve flopped casually into the armchair with a groan, stretching out his long legs with a sigh. He eyed Bucky, returning his baffled look with a smirk, flicking his gaze to the open couch with a wink.

Bucky stood in Levi’s line of sight, so she missed Steve’s encouragement and instead gazed cautiously at a broad back. In truth, she wanted Bucky to sit down beside her too, wanted to be drawn into his powerful embrace and nuzzle close, breathing in his dark musky spice that hinted of danger and ecstasy and safety and sent a dizzying sense of relaxation through her every time. Since waking from the freeze, Levi’s sleep had been erratic and bothered, but those few short weeks when Bucky had shared her bed had been heaven, pure bliss and unbroken sleep. Even on the nights when they’d hadn’t worn each other out making love, she’d been relaxed and content, falling asleep in his arms far more easily than she could ever remember doing before.

But she’d imposed these boundaries, she’d insisted on building a friendship first and waiting to see if her heart would open enough to let her trust him again and Bucky was respecting this line. Her own desires needed to be held back, because if she gave into what she truly wanted, she’d be impaled on Bucky’s cock before you could even say ‘giddy-up’ and would risk ending up abandoned again, head spinning and heart-broken. Just because her body wanted him didn’t mean it was a good idea, her body was a traitor right now, demanding something proven to be bad for her heart. Was paradise worth the hell that followed?

A throat clearing nervously startled her out of her thoughts and the couch jolted gently as Bucky sat down, as far away from Levi as he could possibly be and still be on the same piece of furniture and he eyed the space between them nervously as if expecting Levi to demand more of it. She gave a non-committal smile and turned her attention back to the screen, ignoring the beginnings of a tingle in her skin.

In the last four months, she and Bucky had gradually begun to interact more. She’d avoided him for days at first, then slowly and warily gotten closer. They’d taken part in missions together, not together together but on the same team and managed to get home alive. Bucky, in fact, had been so entranced by Levi’s grace and skill on the first mission that he’d been distracted through most of the job, barely escaping without a bullet in the ass and Sam had busted his balls for days afterwards.

If you squinted, you could probably call them friends now. They could stay in the same room together and hold a conversation, they could eat at the same table and had even managed to clean up after the team’s supper one-night last week without drowning the other in the dirty dishwater or fucking on the counter.

And they could share a couch now, if neither paid attention to the proximity of the other.

Partway through the movie, Levi’s legs began to cramp, and she stretched them out with a wince. It had been leg day today, and her body was letting her know just what it thought about being pushed so hard. Bucky glanced down as her feet appeared in his peripheral vision and closed his fists discreetly in his lap. His hands ached to reach over and touch her, draw her feet into his lap and stroke along her velvet skin. Covertly, he scooted a few inches closer.

Levi’s sharp eyes picked up his movement and flashed up to his face. He froze, ready to shuffle humbly back to his corner but she only gave him a neutral smile, neither inviting him closer nor warning him away and he grinned timidly back, his heart singing when she merely quirked her lip and turned back to the movie.

After a few minutes, feeling like a teenager trying to work up the nerve to put his arm around his first real girlfriend, Bucky gave in and resting his hand gently on Levi’s ankles. She jumped slightly in surprise and Bucky tensed, but she didn’t pull back and even stretched out her body a little more with a contented sigh, leaning back into the cushions and looking as contented as a cat; she just needed a tail to swish lazily.

By the time the credits were rolling Levi had stretched her feet directly into Bucky’s lap, which he’d shuffled even closer towards her and he was absently massaging the arch of her real foot, his other hand resting higher up, by her knee. Occasionally his thumb made a slow circle, bumping along the edge of her prosthesis and back to bare skin, sending gentle ripples of happiness up her thigh.

Bucky was loathed to release her, but he jolted, pushing her feet out of his lap and scooting back to his corner as Sam leapt to his feet with an exaggerated groan, stretching his arms upwards until his spine popped satisfactorily. Was it his imagination, or did Levi pull her legs back with some degree of reluctance? By the time Sam turned around, his sharp eyes narrowing at the sight of them sharing the couch, they were apart again and completely innocent-looking. Sam studied them for a beat, flicked his gaze at Steve, then dropped whatever rested on the tip of his tongue at the look he received.

Bucky followed Sam’s glance towards Steve, but by then his friend’s face was neutral, with maybe the hint of a merry twinkle in his eyes. Bucky threw them both a scowl and turned back to Levi, trying to work up the nerve to ask her to stay for a bit with him, perhaps share a hot chocolate or start a second movie but she was already gone and Bucky felt a rush of disappointment. He stood, indecision making him slow; he wanted to follow Levi and talk to her, but he also wanted to avoid the inevitable comments from the peanut section about it. Steve would probably leave him be, but Sam would no doubt chirp merrily and cuttingly. He’d not yet gotten over Bucky leaving and had become one of Levi’s most jealous guardians since his return, letting him know in no uncertain terms that Bucky was ‘on thin ice with Babygirl’ and he’d better ‘mind whatever Podunk manners he had’ or else Sam would ‘kick his frozen ass’. It was good to see that Levi had her protectors, but it hurt that they felt compelled to protect her from him too.

Sam, however, seemed to be feeling charitable tonight and only slapped both Steve and Bucky on the shoulders before announcing he was turning in and leaving the common room. Bucky watched him leave, still lost in is own thoughts when Steve nudged him with his shoulder and he startled, turning wide eyes to his friend.

Steve didn’t say anything, but the twinkle was back in his gentle eyes and Bucky blushed, looking away again.

“Goodnight, punk.” Bucky murmured, stubbornly refusing to congratulate Steve when he so obviously was looking for it and ducked out.

Levi paced her room, on edge and not knowing why, which was the worst. The movie had been good, great in fact and not in small part to the fact that she and Bucky seemed to be loosening up around each other. His foot massage had been gentle, his thumb stroking her knee tender and soothing and Levi had immediately missed them both when Bucky had suddenly retreated. Levi had been so discombobulated by the change she’d gotten up and left, afraid to let everyone see what was probably plastered all over her face.

She missed Bucky. She missed what they’d had for those few short weeks. For a time, their walls had dropped, and they’d let each other in, and Levi had felt at home. In the last four months, Bucky had given her the space she asked for, done his best to become a trusted friend and they were comfortable as acquaintances, hitting the gym with a few other teammates, smiling and bidding the other good morning with a cup of coffee ready, or good night with a lingering gaze at the other’s retreating back, keeping a surreptitious, protective eye on the other during missions. And Levi realized that she wanted more, or rather, that she had wanted more with Bucky, for a while now, and was just allowing herself to recognize it tonight.

But could they have that again? The possessive, animal magnetism and magic that had swept them up before? Levi wanted Bucky, but was she willing to take the chance?

She didn’t know, not yet. Things were still too muddled-

A knock at her door startled her out of her spiraling thoughts and she strode to it, pulling it open before she could reconsider, because she knew who was on the other side, had been pacing this whole time just waiting for him.

Bucky stood on the other side, one hand braced on the door-frame, his head lowered and his hair a curtain over his face. He reminded Levi of a wild animal, creeping closer but ready to turn and run at the first wrong move. He wasn’t sure if Levi was going to welcome him with a slamming door or a smile, but he was helplessly drawn all the same.

��Hey,” she offered quietly, tilting her head. Surely Bucky could hear the sudden acceleration of her heart, just like she could hear his.

He raised his head, gifting Levi with a glimpse of his supernatural eyes before dropping his gaze again. “Hi… sorry, I… “ He trailed off uncertainly.

“Hot chocolate?” Levi asked, remembering their nights on their mission spent sharing mugs of the sweet drink, Bucky chuckling and shaking his head at Levi’s insistence on an even number of mini marshmallows for maximum enjoyment.

Bucky’s eyes flashed gratefully, and his answering grin made butterflies skitter in Levi’s belly. “I’d love that.” He murmured quietly.

Before she could change her mind, Levi pushed the door fully open and turned away, leaving it up to Bucky if he wanted to follow her. She heard his quiet footsteps, then the door shut but when she turned around in the kitchen area after reaching for some clean mugs, she saw he’d stopped in the centre of the room, again looking unsure.

She hated seeing him nervous, it didn’t fit his broad shoulders well. “Come sit down.” She called softly, pointing her chin at the set of bar stools at the counter.

A stool creaked softly under his weight as Levi continued, measuring out hot chocolate powder, then adding a half-teaspoon of pure cocoa powder to Bucky’s like he preferred; her eyes flicked up to his with a grin as she purposefully counted out the right number of mini-marshmallows and Bucky’s answering grin made the butterflies start up again. A devilish look stole over her face as she turned to the cupboard again and pulled out a package, brandishing it at Bucky, who barked a laugh.

“That’s where they went! Wilson was after me for stealing them!” Bucky grinned, reaching out for the package.

Levi pulled it back with a grin, then relented and handed them over. The last package of Special Edition Salted Caramel Oreos had gone missing yesterday from the common room and Sam had launched a full investigation, interrogating the entire team with Columbo-like precision and much furrowing of brows. He’d been met with blank stares from most and suspicious giggles from Nat and Clint, but hadn’t been able to sniff out the culprit.

Levi shrugged cheekily and reached for a cookie as Bucky tore the package open and grabbed two, shoving them into his mouth with a laugh.

“I wonder,” he mused, mouth full of cookie, “if he’d smell them on my breath if I leaned in close.”

“Or,” Levi added, reaching over, “if he’d see all the crumbs on your face?” Bucky’s breath caught in his chest as Levi’s fingers gently cupped his chin, her thumb lightly skimming the corner of his bottom lip, dislodging the aforementioned crumbs.

She paused, still touching his face and Bucky felt his skin tingle under her caress. His heart thudded to startled life in his chest and a jolt of adrenaline rocketed through his body. Levi’s eyes widened and he realized she’d felt the same surge of energy.

Pulling back and ducking her head to hide her reddening cheeks, Levi grabbed the kettle and filled both mugs with boiling water, then set the kettle down and stirred her hot chocolate slowly, staring into it like it would give her answers.

Gathering all his courage, for if Levi rejected him now, he’d surely wither away, Bucky reached over, tentatively resting his hand on her wrist. Levi jumped slightly but didn’t pull back and raised her head to gaze at him.

“Lev,” he whispered. “I’ve missed you, baby.”

Levi smiled softly. “I’ve missed you too.”

“I want to try again.” Bucky blurted before his nerves could fail him. Christ, he was the Winter Soldier, he was like ice, only Levi could bring him to his knees like this.

“I do too,” Levi confessed. “But slow this time.”

“Yeah.” He agreed then decided to just go for it. Fuck it. “Can I take you on a date?”

Levi tilted her head, a smile pulling at her lips. “Where?”

“Wherever you want, doll.”

Levi pretended to think, but the speed in which she answered told Bucky she’d thought about this before. “I’ve never been taken to a fair before. Isn’t there one downstate this weekend?”

“Yeah, doll. There is.” Bucky had been studying the fair’s website earlier today, dreaming of taking Levi there. “I haven’t been to one in decades.” He joked.

“I’ve never been taken to one.” Levi murmured quietly. “At least, not with a guy. I snuck out a lot at the orphanage but never got taken on a date there.”

For all they’d shared, all they’d experienced together, this part of Levi’s life was still a mystery to Bucky and he wanted to know more, he wanted to know everything about Levi, know her mind inside and out the way he knew her body. He sipped his drink, smiling because Levi had gotten it just right and gazed at her. He could get used to this, peaceful nights together again, just talking in quiet voices before going to bed, snuggling close or making love to exhaustion, waking up tangled together, foreheads touching like the mornings Bucky remembered the most fondly.

Levi glanced up at him from her mug, a faint smile on her lips and Bucky realized she was thinking about that too, remembering their quiet nights together, wanting to feel it again. Before he could stop himself, Bucky reached up, tenderly cupping Levi’s face with his hand. He bit back a hiss of pleasure at the contact, his chest swelling when Levi, instead of recoiling, hummed happily and leaned her head into his palm. Her eyes fluttered closed and, so quietly Bucky would have missed it if not for his enhanced senses, breathed his name reverently.

Bucky ached to lean forwards and press his lips to hers, feel her kiss again and it physically hurt to hold back; wincing ever so slightly, he withdrew his hand, not missing the way Levi’s face followed his palm for a beat, seeking his touch before the spell broke and her eyes opened; a faint flush crept into her cheeks as she straightened and she cleared her throat self-consciously, playing nervously with her mug. Bucky pulled his hand into his lap, curled it into a fist and for a heartbeat, was compelled, like a love-struck little boy, to declare that he was never washing his hand again.

Suddenly starkly aware of their situation and his escalating thoughts, Bucky swallowed convulsively then lifted his mug to his mouth, draining it in one swallow, ignoring the discomfort of the near-scalding liquid. Setting it down he stood and cleared his throat.

“I should... I should get going. It’s late.”

Levi opened her mouth, as if wanting to disagree, then nodded slightly and dropped her head again. “Yes,” she agreed quietly. “I’m tired.”

Bucky hesitated, he couldn’t leave without touching her again; because, for that brief moment when his palm had cupped her cheek, all the agitated and jagged shards inside him had slowed, settling like the glitter in a snow globe and, for a few moments, he’d known peace; Levi raised her eyes again and there was a similar need in her gaze as she bit her bottom lip.

Before he could stop himself, before he could remind himself to go slow, Bucky reached forwards and gently took Levi’s hand; holding her gaze, he pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles, his lips lingering, then exhaled and let go, taking a large, deliberate step back. The first step was the hardest, but he made himself move and, by the time he reached the door and strode through it, closing it behind him, the pain was almost bearable again.

[csjolly]

Ooh how about a pirate Killian, princess Emma fic please!? Thanks!!

I might continue this! It gets a lil angsty, but it should pan out pretty well. Rating is T for language!!

His tongue sat dry in his mouth, leaking the foul iron tang of blood into his bruised cheek and between his teeth. If it weren’t for the castle healer’s opium supply, Killian might have passed out from the pain instead of staring deliriously at the white-marveled ceiling of the sick ward.  

The chains around his wrist secured him tightly to the bed, rendering his hand useless in escape. His hook lay wayward on the bedside table, angled away and out of his reach, next to its detached brace and leather harness. Killian shifted his weight stubbornly, only to be met with another bite of pain and a searing flash up his ribcage. The gash that snaked across his torso wound from his navel to his chest, curving only under his arm to end on his side. The nurses had done well enough to suture it, but the shame that came from being blindsided didn’t falter for a second. 

After all, he was the incorrigible Captain Killian “Hook” Jones- scourge of the 7 seas- and he had been slashed into defeat by a girl. 

The blow might have been softened if she had been old enough to know what she was doing, but the young maiden’s attack had been purely an accident. He, the most feared pirate in all the realms- the scoundrel that the men feared and the women lusted after- was maimed most avidly by an unintentional persecutor! 

The girl had been recklessly running through the dusted corridors of the port village, swinging a heavy sword after her younger friend, another girl who couldn’t have been more than 17. They were play fighting, shrieking down the cobblestone pathways with giggles and whips of frosted blonde and brunette hair.

She had caught him by mistake, aiming for a sac of flour in a lonesome cart that her friend had jumped behind. The pirate captain happened to walk out the tavern door that laid right in front of the flour cart at the most inopportune moment possible, and ended up sprawled across the pavement with the bloodied wound streaking around his body like a messily carved promise. 

Blue eyes flashed wildly at his surroundings, daring to lay a glare upon his attacker, only to find a trembling little lass with wide green eyes and tangled blonde locks peering down at him guiltily. 

“Shit- Ruby…shit… oh, God. Shit.” She cursed frantically, her hands flying to her hair as her face paled. Her sword had clattered to the ground the minute she’d seen the damage it had done. It shined as a stark contrast against the stone, coated by the dark wash of the Killian’s blood. 

The younger girl, a tall brunette with dark eyes and a pale complexion, jumped from behind the cart and scampered to the blonde.

“Holy shit…” She mumbled at the scene, offering little more than the mortified assessment. The blonde huffed exasperatedly, hands twisting knots in the fabric of her dirtied skirts.“Yeah, we covered that bit!” She snapped, but her voice was shaky and she had to avert her gaze from the grunting man on the floor.

The brunette- Ruby, apparently- paid no mind to the other girl, kneeling to inspect the jagged injury.  “It doesn’t look too deep, but he needs help, Emma. We have to get him back to the castle.” 

That remark had Killian nearly jumping out of his skin, twisting urgently to sit up. The pain knocked him right back down, and the two girls became a little blurrier as he struggled to breathe. 

“No,” He wheezed out, “No castles.” The girls shared a nervous glance, before the blonde one, Emma, kneeled and grabbed his hand in hers.She stuttered warily, holding back terrified tears,“I’m sorry, I swear, it was an accident- oh god, I’m sorry.” 

If he hadn’t been gutted so thoroughly, he would have felt the need to comfort the girl, but his pain won out as he let a hiss fall from his lips. Ruby’s attention seemed glued to Killian’s left side, and the brunette sucked a deep breath in. 

“Emma-” Ruby started, and Killian had an inkling as to what the girl’s sight had locked on.

Emma continued obliviously, despite her friends attempts to get her attention,“It’s okay, my parents will help you. You’re in good hands.” He couldn’t help the indignation at that one, because she had bloody stabbed him, but was interrupted by the other girl.

Ruby seemed to choke on a gulp, and smacked Emma’s arm, beckoning wildly to Killian’s left side- directly to the deadly curve of metal that rested in his sleeve. “Emma!” She bit out, red lips curving into a grimace, “He’s going to need it. You managed to maim Captain fucking Hook.” 

Killian’s weary body chose that moment to let his vision tumble into a black stupor, and he promptly feel unconscious.

The metal clanked loudly against the frame of the cot he was chained to, outlining his strained curses. 

It seemed like hours had passed until the door opened, letting light peer into the dimly lit castle room only for a minute, as the blonde girl from before slipped in. 

She hesitated by the entry way for a minute, before jutting her chin in the air and steering herself to sit confidently in the wooden chair by his bedside. 

He raised an eyebrow (which took nearly all of his energy in itself) and tilted his head to get a better look at her. She was older than he had originally assumed- early twenties, maybe- porcelain cheeks dusted with freckles and a rosy blush arching its way across her features. Her hair was combed back, now, and she rested in a white nightgown instead of the dress she had on in the village. “Sorry,” She began meekly, but it sounded more like a question, and she didn’t bother to finish. 

Killian stared at her for a moment in cold silence, before cracking into a weakened chuckle. He found himself heaving in laughter within minutes at the sheer ridiculous nature of the situation he had found himself in, and the girl seemed to surprised to join in on the humor. 

When he had calmed down enough to ensure that he hadn’t ruptured any stitching beneath his badges, he turned back to Emma. 

“For which thing, love, attacking me unprovoked or locking me up?” He drawled, unable to grasp the energy he had found in the hilarity of the situation mere moments before. 

She shuffled uncomfortably in her seat, dropping her chin to her hands. “Your crimes of piracy are what got you locked up, and I told you it was an accident, Hook.”

 He licked his lips bitterly, and closed his eyes with a sigh. “Figuring as we’ve become so well acquainted, you might as well call me Killian,” He was half joking, but nodded softly to her, “After all, having felt the metal of your blade in my chest has brought us quite close, wouldn’t you say?” 

She blushed profusely, nearly choking at his compulsive flirtations. “You’re making me regret not leaving you there to die in the street.”

He stubbornly furrowed his brows and silenced himself to an empty conversation, but Emma seemed to have other plans. 

“Look, you should be healed enough to face the trial my parents want to give you in about a week,” He looked at her questioningly before she rolled her eyes and confirmed, “Yeah, princess, pirate, whatever. Anyways, I’d say that getting stabbed is punishment enough, and I’ll see what I can do to help you.” 

He was about to shuffle in that low tone of his that he didn’t need her help- he had survived more dire straights on his own. Something about the determination in her eyes as she stood to leave dampened the words on his tongue, and he clenched his jaw to nod in thanks instead. 

“Quit cheating!” She demanded, as he set down yet another hand of winning cards. Killian just chuckled darkly and collected the deck back to reshuffle. The last five days had led to late night card games in the sick ward, and eventually in the cells when Killian had healed enough. He couldn’t help feeling drawn to the young princess, like a moth to a flame. Each night she snuck in, he seemed to gain a piece of a puzzle that he hadn’t known he’d been solving. Her bubbled laugh and her shining smile seemed like corner pieces, but the moments of silent tension, where he couldn’t tell if she was about to kiss him or smack him- those were lost in the middle of the mess. 

There was something artful in his steady hand and the flow of the cards that had Emma mesmerized, before a loud knocking on the other cell doors grabbed her attention. Both sets of eyes trained on the door, his blue ones narrowed in defense and her green ones wide in curiosity. 

The door creaked open to reveal a young boy, maybe 13, tiptoeing into the room with a sheepish grin on his face. “Leo,” Emma hissed, “What are you doing here? You’ll get us caught!” The boy shrugged noncommittally, “I wanted to see if it was really him.” 

Emma rolled her eyes and turned to Killian. “This is my brother,” she looked back at the boy pointedly, “Leo, be nice.” 

The boy snorted and stuck out his hand. Killian’s chain was loosened just enough for him to reach out and shake it firmly. 

“So you’re a pirate, huh?” He blurted out ungracefully, and Emma elbowed him sharply in the ribs. “Leo!” “Quit being so protective of him, he’s in my dungeon too!” 

Killian let the two bicker for a minute before interrupting. “You two are hot-headed enough to be pirates yourselves.”

Emma shook her head disapprovingly, but Leo’s face stretched into a wide grin. Taking it as a hint to continue, Killian directed towards him, “In fact, if you ever get tired of this royal business, I’m sure I can find a place for you on my ship.” Emma let out a strangled yelp at this, shoving her brother behind her. 

“Not if I can help it!” She insisted, but a playful gleam in her eyes let Killian know he wasn’t about to be at the receiving end of her sword again. 

“You’re gonna die in two days anyway,” Leo reminded him, and the weight of the trial seemed to blanket a little heavier than before. Killian tilted his head up and met Emma’s eyes, which were averted and guilt-ridden.  

Killian smiled openly, covertly tucking Emma’s hand into his own. “Don’t be so sure of that, my boy.” 

Leo dawned a skeptical look and shook his head, but was ultimately corrected. Two days later, as King David and Queen Snow sat impatiently on their thrones in the trial hall, awaiting the prisoner Captain Hook’s arrival to his sentencing, a grinning Emma stumbled into the room with her hair mussed and her skirts ruffled. Leo’s face soured knowingly at his sister’s appearance, scrunching his nose in disgust and fiddling with his new deck of cards. 

The royal family waited for much longer than they should have for the captured captain to be brought to them- given that the pirate had already long-since escaped, and was well on his way back to his ship. Emma had a blushing glow about her, as if she was holding back a smile the entire time that the guards prattled on about the pirate’s mysterious escape, and how ‘no one knows where the cell keys went, your majesties’. 

That wasn’t strictly true, though, because Emma knew quite well where they keys had gone. In fact, if they ever were to resurface again, one might be able to spot the Princess’s sly fingerprints and the captain’s coy reflection in the shiny metal surface. 

[edgeofisolation]

“Sis, We All Know Why You Don’t Care for It”: The Perpetuation of Covert Homophobia and Heteronormativity in the Digital Age

Society has had a long history of homophobia. Often citing religious texts for the reason for their bigotry, people have frequently listed homosexuality as being abnormal and inherently deviant to the morals of society. In fact, it was only in 1973 that the American Psychological Association removed homosexuality from their list of mental illnesses and only this year has India decriminalized homosexuality. In many developing countries, homosexuality is still considered a criminal act in over 70 countries around the world with some even condemning it by death. However, it should be said that in many liberal countries like South Africa, The United Kingdom and The U.S. have made many strides in the normalization of homosexuality and advances in LGBT rights have been considerable in the past 30 or so years. In many of these countries it has now become a societal taboo to be outwardly homophobic, with many of these countries condemning homophobia as hate crime and a human rights violation. Yet still, homophobia continues to consist in society and exists in many forms such as verbal and sometimes physical abuse as well as through structural and systemic discrimination. Deeply entrenched in the very fabric of society, this post seeks to analyse the ways in which covert homophobia still persists in contemporary liberal societies and the ways in which these forms of homophobia represent the broader structural issues of cis-heterosexism that continues to characterize the world we live in despite the commendable efforts to live in a post-homophobic world.

Homophobia is arguably the result of repressive structures imposed by heterosexism and patriarchy. In a study conducted by Neil Henderson, he looks at how heteronormativity in “traditional” African communities reinforce homophobic behaviour and ideologies. Henderson (2015: 109) argues that in societies characterised by heteronormative ideals brought on by a patriarchal system that see heterosexuality as the norm perpetuate homophobia as being inherently deviant and abnormal. He goes on to argue that this sort of hetero-morality is often held up through religion, culture, and education systems with homophobic language being the key perpetrator in the perpetuation on discrimination based on non-heteronormative identities (Henderson, N., 2015: 109). In his analysis of coming out stories by gay men in Cape Town, Henderson notes that in the cases where these men presented more traditionally feminine traits faced the largest brunt of homophobia by their families and their communities as they were more likely to uphold heterosexuality and traditional gender roles as the norm, and thus condemning those who stray from these ideal, suggesting that there is a causal link between homophobia, heterosexism and traditional patriarchy (Henderson, N., 2015: 111-112).

This seems to be strengthened by Thabo Msibi’s study of the experiences of queer youth in township areas in South Africa. In many township schools, Msibi (2012: 518) notes that teachers are often not only inhibitors of homophobia complicit in their silence, but also perpetuate it themselves through repressive structures that aim to hinder and deviate from the perceived cis-heterosexual norm and thus enforce heteronormativity resulting in the lives of many queer black youth remaining bleak in the face of hegemonic masculinities. This, Msibi (2012: 520) argues that this could be because of the rampant poverty experienced by these communities largely due to the legacy Apartheid which caused heterosexual men to aggressively assert their masculinity, condemning all who deviate from it. Thus, in terms of sexual identities (particularly homosexuality), in societies highly characterized by hetero-centricity and heterosexism, the dominant discourses and cultural practices in these societies almost explicitly promote heterosexuality and traditional gender roles as being compulsory, marginalizing those identities who do not conform to this narrative into highly repressive and discriminatory structures (Msibi, T., 2012: 521).

These repressive structures brought on by heteronormativity still persists in contemporary liberal societies in various ways disguised as covert homophobia which suggest that there is still some level of societal acceptance of certain forms of homophobia. Much like “colour-blind” racism that seeks to reflect a post-racial society, homophobia has been rearticulated in more covert forms as a new form of homophobia disguised in the language of liberalism (Teal, J., Conover-William, M., 2016: 14). Much like covert racism, covert homophobia in liberal societies “fail to dismantle any of the heteronormative structures that privilege heterosexuality and oppress members of queer communities despite what appears to be advances in LGB equality” (Teal, J., Conover-William, M., 2016: 14). This is done in many ways but for the sake of this post we will focus on the “born this way” essentialism and the “some of my friends are gay…” rhetoric, both which present covert homophobia that is perpetuated by so called allies of the LGBT community. 

The most apparent of these is the “some of my friends are gay…” rhetoric. Much like the “I have black friends” rhetoric, this positions heterosexuals as not possibly being homophobic because they choose to associate with queer people (Teal, J., Conover-William, M., 2016: 19). This, Teal and Conover-William (2016: 19) argue is a form of ally entitlement where heterosexual identities claim ally status through the association with the queer communities which remains inherently problematic because claiming ally status with the intent of protect yourself against being homophobic does little to eradicate established heterosexist power relations. Furthermore, because the “but some of my friends are gay” rhetoric is often preluded by homophobic comments or slurs (such as calling someone the f-word as an insult), these so-called allies proclaim this ally status to neutralize the effect of their comment which “maintains heterosexism by assuming this neutralization is valid, and sufficient for using anti-queer sentiments,” almost directly implying queer identities should be grateful for their “acceptance” (Teal, J., Conover-William, M., 2016: 19).

Another more controversial form of covert homophobia lies in the “born this way” essentialism. Put briefly, this rhetoric relies on the dichotomy between the discourses on whether you are born queer or is it a choice. Many queer allies, and even queer individuals themselves, argue that people are born queer and that it is not a choice (Teal, J., Conover-William, M., 2016: 16). This sort of essentialism is used to justify that homosexuality is normal and presents queer people with the struggle of having to constantly have to prove something that is simply not possible (Teal, J., Conover-William, M., 2016: 16). Because of this impossibility, many homophobes use this doubt to justify their bigotry arguing that if it can be proven without a doubt that homosexuality is inborn, that they will perhaps change their positions on homosexuality (Teal, J., Conover-William, M., 2016: 16). As daunting as this may be, this has a second layer to it because by essentializing sexuality as being inborn, many people ignore the social construction of sexuality. In doing so, queer allies (and some queer individuals) use essentialism to argue that homosexuality simply could not be a choice any sane individual would make. Thus, allies make use of covert homophobia to invalidate the possibility that queerness could be an actual, valid choice to make and by “simplifying sexuality into genetic versus choice argument ignores that sexuality is a social construction and devalues queer sexualities by framing them as inherently bad or negative” (Teal, J., Conover-William, M., 2016: 17).

One key example of cover homophobia in action is Kim Kardashian’s brief ‘beef’ with model Tyson Beckford. Herein, Tyson Beckford made a comment on a popular Instagram page The Shade Room where he said he did not like Kim’s body, calling her apparent surgery as being a botched job. Shortly after, Kim took to Instagram to defend her body by shaming a sexuality he does not even identify with, boldly stating “sis we all know why you don't care for it” (EOnline, 2018). This is very problematic for a number of ways. Most notably, Kim centres her rebuttal solely on the fact that the only possible reason he doesn’t like her body is because he must be gay. Furthermore, by framing her rebuttal with the gendered noun “sis,” Kim is acting in a way that reinforces heteronormative ideals of what a straight man should be, attempting to shame his sexuality and his masculinity by reducing it to the “diminutive” femininity. Unsurprisingly enough, Kim defended her comments by saying “for anyone to say that I am homophobic for the comment of saying 'sis' like, I'm sorry, I'm the least...all my best friends are gay, I support the community, I love the community, they love me” (EOnline, 2018). This echoes the “but my friends are gay…” ally entitlement that Kim uses to justify her covertly homophobic remarks. Kim thinks that just because she is an “ally” who “loves and supports” the community, that she immediate gets a backstage pass to using any homophobic sentiment that she pleases. Kim is entitled. Kim is homophobic. Kim is reinforcing heteronormativity. Kim is far from being the ally she so boldly claims to be.  

From the above discussions it can clearly be seen that homophobia is alive and well. By people positioning themselves as liberal who do not care if you “gay, straight, black, white or blue,” liberal allies act in ways that reenforce their heteronormativity onto a community desperate to be accepted, and disguise their homophobia by common sentiments such as jokes or essentialism. By the mere fact that a celebrity as prominent as Kim Kardashian can use covertly homophobic sentiments and leave from it virtually unscathed, this shows that society, though hiding under the veil of liberal ideals, is still unashamedly homophobic. Until this is addressed, repercussions are felt, and healthy discussions are had about contemporary forms of homophobia, covert homophobia will continue to repress the lives of queer individuals even in the most progressive societies.

References:

Cohen, J. 2018. Kim defends dissing Tyson Beckford over body shaming comments. Accessed on 10 September 2018 from the World Wide Web: https://www.eonline.com/au/news/959088/kim-kardashian-defends-dissing-tyson-beckford-over-body-shaming-comments

 Henderson, N. 2015. The persistence of homophobic discourses: Narratives of a group of gay men in Cape Town, South Africa, Agenda, 29:1

 Msibi, T. 2012. ‘I'm used to it now’: experiences of homophobia among queer youth in South African township schools, Gender and Education, 24:5

 Teal, J. & Conover-Williams, M. 2016. Homophobia without homophobes: Deconstructing the public discourses of 21st century queer sexualities in the United States. Humboldt Journal of Social Relations. 38.

[xicanation]

Our rights as womyn and mothers to assert jurisdiction over our own bodies and lives are being deconstructed at an alarming rate – dare I say as alarming as the miles of ice cracking and melting off the poles of our Mother Earth.

With no more lands to conquer on the U.S. mainland, the personal landscape has become a frontier.  The 21st century geography of colonization and population control: the body of womyn and in particular, womyn from marginalized communities.

It is true that legislated dominion over native peoples bodies has gone on for over 500 years.  But generations of wasichu methodologies in law and capitalist structures have reached a point of refinement that demands our attention because they can pervade so deeply into the personal, affecting our realities and influencing if not controlling sacred of personal decisions.  The State of Texas is of particular reference and leads the attack but it is certainly not the only one.  The current situation is inextricably intertwined with colonization, thus impacting native womyn across borders.

But within the context of the U.S., whether this imposition of state control over a womyn’s body manifests in the form of womyns right to choose, access to healthcare (including mental health services), access to assistance programs, womyns right to (and access to) choose the form of maternity medical care, womyns right to (and access to) determine the birth experience, family law legislation, domestic violence, litigious abuse, access for non-citizens and mothers/kids in FAMILY PRISONS to obtain birth certificates for U.S.-born children, trans and LGBTQ rights, and in other ways with intersections too numerous to describe.

And of particular importance is that at every single crossing point between the State and marginalized communities  – and in particular womyn  – from the greater MeXicanx community, there appears increasing forms of legislation imposed upon the living geographies and landscapes of the brown female bodies in ways which overtly and covertly carve pathways to unjustly deny access and exercise of our human rights.  The system seems be in a rush to find ways to justify taking power at any moment over our bodies, quickly legislating definitions/layers of illegalities and constructing legal, economic, and geographic barriers that directly work against us to obstruct our ability to exercise our human rights, our health/well-being, our families, and our life experience on this planet as we know it.

Perhaps this article is only a drop in a bucket, but there is simply no other way to deconstruct and decolonize a mechanism without having a few critical conversations.  And today’s topic is no exception: the right to choose (and access to) maternity care, asserting jurisdiction over the self in determining the birth experience, and working with pregnant womyn and mothers from marginalized communities.

Our featured guests include yaocihuame (warrior womyn/community leaders) and come from Houston, El Paso, Austin, San Antonio, and Guadalajara, Mexico.  We are honored to have with us:

Maribel Valdez Gonzalez, Educator, San Antonio, Texas  Donate Gisela Sarellano, Danzante, El Paso, Texas  Donate Marisela Orozco-Herrera, Danzante and educator, Houston, Texas   Emerita Citlalli Ramírez Grande, Danzante and culture worker, Guadalajara, Jalisco   Rachel Caballero, Student midwife at Mama Sana clinic in East Austin, Texas Nana Yvette Mendez, Elder, San Antonio, Texas

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Maribel Valdez Gonzalez

Gisela Sarellano

Marisela Orozco-Herrera

Emerita Citlalli Ramírez Grande

Rachel Caballero

Nana Yvette Mendez

You are invited to read and listen to their stories, they are critical and important.  You are also personally invited to counter the systemic attack and effect change NOW through donating to the fund drives for these hermanas.

Author’s note: I can personally testify to the fact that online donations towards the birth of children really DO make a direct impact at a time when pregnant womyn, and in this case community leaders, need it the most.  Thank you.

[su_accordion] [su_spoiler title=”Maribel Valdez Gonzalez” anchor=”Accordion-1″]

​What is your name? How do you ID? Where are you at/from? My name is Maribel Valdez Gonzalez. My family is from La Laguna Grande, Zacatecas, Mexico. My mom, brother, sister, and I are living in San Antonio, Tejaztlan for the first time, together. Many of my extended family members still remain in Zacatecas, while others have migrated to other cities in Texas, Illinois, Georgia, and California. I identify as Mexican, Xicana, and part of an alterNATIVE peoples residing on this side of the arbitrary, but enforced southern border of the United States. I am indigenous, colonized, and different from white America. Relatively speaking, I am light-skinned, but not white passing. I am in a strong cishetero-appearing companionship with Antonio Manuel Castillo Gonzalez. The foundation of our companionship is based on our relationship with our closest relative, the land.

What community movements are you involved in? I am an educator. I teach 7th grade English Language Arts in a historically looted community. I teach at a school that is homogeneously brown. Being a teacher in a public school is extremely difficult because I have to reconcile being an oppressor (if I want to keep my job) with doing my best to help students love themselves. I believe in teaching culturally-relevant curriculum, social emotional skills that deviate from white supremacist norms, and encouraging my students to express themselves with informed opinions. My humble purpose in life is to be an example for others. I am honored to be in the presence of youth and I take that responsibility very seriously. At this time, I have taken a break from getting involved in movements beyond my school community, so I can focus on my home altar. I am currently 30 weeks pregnant and very much focused on my spirituality and faith to ground our family in a good way before our baby, Aztlaneci, enters this world.

What type of birth experience are you choosing to have and why? I am choosing to have the birth ceremony in the comfort of our home. I have a doula, who is my ceremonial sister, and a midwife who will assist in the ceremony. The birth ceremony is the first ceremony. I consider it a ceremony because it is a way to demonstrate honor for the ritual, gratitude, humility, and strength. I have no fear because I understand my womb to be my connection to the earth, my ancestors, the dreamworld, and the life force that will give us our child. I have faith. It will be a sacred experience that will not be tainted by the traumas that many womxn of color experience in hospitals. We will be singing prayer songs and there will be medicines present. It will be an answer to a prayer. I want to be in the presence of folks who want to help me give birth to my child. I do not want to be controlled, or forgotten. By having the ceremony at home, my family and I will be given the autonomy to demonstrate our responsibility to our child, future generations, ancestors, and community as a unified commitment.

What other birthing experiences have you had? My companion and I had a daughter by the name of Ayotzintli Valdez Gonzalez. She remains an ancestor after I miscarried at 3 months. We remember and honor her on a daily basis. She is with us always.

Does politics and/or economic play a role in this decision? How? As a Xicana, woman of color, and mama-to-be in the United States, every choice I make is political. My decision to have a home birth was informed by my spiritual beliefs and the fear I carry as a young Xicana in institutions such as hospitals. In those spaces, my body is objectified in ways that take away my dignity and the sacredness of the birth ceremony. My body and my home are sacred ceremonial sites.

How can folks support you? I am asking for folks to help with donations to cover the costs of midwifery services. We believe that having access to midwifery services is birth justice. With every $50 or more donation, we are giving away a WE THE PEOPLE Defend Dignity 24×36 lithoprint signed by the photographer, Arlene Mejorado, and myself. We will also ship 4 stickers of the same print. While my likeness is used for the prints that were seen all over the world, my family and I are not getting compensated for any of it. We are very fortunate to be able to share some of the prints with those who support our campaign as an incentive. We are deeply grateful for those who choose to support us.

What is the link to your fundraiser? https://www.gofundme.com/support-maribels-home-birth

[/su_spoiler] [su_spoiler title=”Gisela Sarellano” anchor=”Accordion-2″]

What is your name? How do you ID? Where are you at/from? Gisela Sarellano, Mexica, El Paso, TX

What community movements are you involved in? I have been entrusted with the responsibility of danza Azteca Omecoatl and serve them as their capitana. Additionally, I am a minister of Native American Church Teokalli Tlauizkalpantekutli Ketzalkoatl.

What type of birth experience are you choosing to have and why? I chose to birth at home with the help of a midwife. Although I respect everyone’s personal preference, I believe that birthing with a midwife is the closest to how it was intended. Going through the experience and actually being an active participant in said experience is very important to me. In my opinion, I believe it is the most natural way and the best way for both mother and child.

What other birthing experiences have you had? My 9 year old son, Xicahua, was born in a hospital with an obstetrician. This was far from ideal as the doctor induced my delivery to fit her schedule instead of waiting for my baby to come on his terms and on his time. Though it was nonetheless life changing and unforgettable, I truly felt robbed of the birthing experience.

Does politics and/or economic play a role in this decision? How? The fact that home birth is not covered by Medicaid or traditional insurance absolutely factored into my decision. Instead of simply being able to enjoy and celebrate the fact that I was being blessed with another child I had to try to figure out how I would be able to afford to birth at home. Thankfully, there is a midwife in our traditional community who first offered to greatly discount her services then changed her mind and offered me her services free of charge in appreciation for the service work I do within the community.

How can folks support you? Thanks to the generosity of my midwife I do not assistance in paying for her services, however my danza circle has started a fundraiser so that I may have some bonding time with my child. I work for an attorney who is allowing me to take as much time off as I need, however he is unfortunately unable to provide me with paid maternity leave. Without financial assistance, I will only be able to take two weeks off, if that.

What is the link to your fundraiser? https://www.youcaring.com/gisela-803046

Anything else would you would like to share? Thankfully my pregnancy had been rather uneventful and without complications, until now. My baby has refused to turn and, at 39 weeks, is still in a breech position. We have tried all traditional and non-traditional methods we can think of, but she will not budge. Bearing that in mind, my wonderful midwife has suggested that birthing in a hospital is the safest thing for the baby. This is far from what I had in mind and most certainly not what I planned. It has, however, been a great lesson in surrender, and accepting that my child and Creation, have other plans, and that is ok too. Sadly, if we have to go through with a C-section, it entails a much longer recovery period for which I am not financially prepared.

[/su_spoiler] [su_spoiler title=”Rachel Caballero” anchor=”Accordion-3″]

What is your name? How do you ID? Where are you at/from?

My name is Rachel Caballero. I am AfroLatina. I honor my African and Indigenous ancestors. I am currently in Austin, TX. I am from the US Mexico Borderlands/ El Paso- Cd Jz.

What community work are you involved in?

I am currently a student midwife involved in an organization called Mama Sana Vibrant Woman. MSVW is a community organization that works to facilitate access to culturally appropriate, quality, prenatal and postnatal care for women of color in Austin/Travis County based in Austin, TX. We exist to provide culturally respectfully and reflective reproductive health and wellness for Latina and Black women. According to the CDC, Centers for Disease Control data showed that for Black women, maternal mortality was 40.4 deaths for every 100,000 live births between 2011 and 2013. This is compared to 12.1 for white women and 16.4 for women of other racesOur focus is prenatal support. Currently birth outcomes and maternal health are worse for Black mothers in the U.S. we exist to change that. For Latina mothers issues around language and cultural respect come into play. For all women access to home birth is an issue. In Texas currently medicaid does not pay for home birth. The process for midwives to become medicaid providers is long and duly, midwives who are self employed and many have low volume practices, becoming a medicaid provider is not possible.

MSVW Our organization is a collectively ran non profit made up of Latina and Black women. My work with the organization is to provide birth support as a doula, and lead our birth companion program. Our Birth Companion program provides free one on one birth support. It is a goal of mine to create a community of birth workers of color who reclaim the practices of their cultures and ancestors and bring them to birth work and healing work. We trained 27 birth companions this past year in our first year of funded work. We connected 5 women to home births at no cost.

What services does your organization provide and what population do you serve? Currently our organization provides holistic full spectrum support including weekly groups, birth companion support during all stages of pregnancy, quick access to prenatal care, and access to network of midwives. During the Pregnancy and Birthing Circles Program which is our weekly prenatal support group, mothers choose topics they want to learn about as well as going over more traditional pregnancy related information, participate in free yoga + movement, community meal, meat birth companions, receive a prenatal check from a midwife. On occasion we invite holistic practicioners to provide massage and acupuncture. The care given within the PBC Program is informed by the principles and practices of midwifery.

We provide Free Childbirth Prep Classes in English and Spanish. We provide monthly socials and events including Mama Spa Day, Kandake Circle by and for self identifying Black Women. As a person on the front line of maternity care in Texas, in what ways do you believe politics and/or economics play a role in decision-making around maternity care and the birthing experience for WOC?

I think when it comes to health care in general politics always play a role in decision making. For many women of color our politics inform our choices about the way we live, what we eat and wear etc. In my experience as a doula/birth companion in maternity care decision making before or during the labor room comes down to two questions – Is it safe for my baby? Is it safe for me so I can care for my child? more so than politics or economics.

In my work I have known and supported many different women from different belief systems. Part of my work as a birth worker/student partera is that I listen and support all women in their choices. Regardless of politics or how much money they have they have the power to decide for themselves what they want and need. Being on the “front lines” of maternity care means upholding that wherever we are, hospital or home. I am “with woman” on her path. I walk alongside her during her journey.

Currently the political climate in Texas has made it clear that our bodies as woc do not matter. Genocide continues and we are here living within it all. The medical system in the U.S. is violent. For this reason the role of the birth companion and partera is even more important. It is a calling- and necessary role during these times. I have seen time and time again entering the hospital supporting a WOC she is dismissed or ignored, talked down to, or poked and prodded unnecesarily. There is little dignity. Specifically when I have supported Black Mothers birthing in hospitals there is alot of racism and I have witnessed many painful and traumatic experiences in the hospitals towards Black Mothers.

More mothers should have the option of having baby at home or a safeplace that is not the hospital. Decisions around maternity care are connected to economics in that a WOC who is homeless, has violence at home, not enough room, may not want to or be able to have a “home birth” not all women have “homes” in the physical sense, so they have no choice but go to hospital. And less so not able to even consider home birth since she will have to pay out of pocket.

As WOC our choices are already cut short in the U.S. and especially in Texas. We don’t have real choices. We are seeking to change that.

How can folks support this project?

In order to provide support and more homebirth we must continue to fundraise. People can donate to our pay pal or mail checks. People can volunteer their time or expertise. People can refer more women of color needing support by visiting msvwatx.org , info@msvwatx.org, 512-710-5729

[/su_spoiler]

[su_spoiler title=”Emerita Citlalli Ramírez Grande” anchor=”Accordion-4″]

Como te llamas?  Como te identificas?  De donde eres/estas? Emerita Citlalli Ramírez Grande. Me identifico con la naturaleza, con todo lo relaciónado al cuidado, conservación y resguardo del medio ambiente y cultura. Mi familia es de Jala Nayarit- Jomulco. Estoy viviendo en Guadalajara.

A cuales movimientos o circulos sociales te integras? Grupos de danza Mexica y de conocimiento de calendario Mexica.

Que tipo de expereiencia de nacimiento desean tener?  Pueden tener?  No pueden tener?   Tipo de nacimiento/ el mas natural acorde con lo tiempos naturales posibles y queria una experiencia en agua. / pueden tener; puedo tener el del seguro del ISSTE por el trabajo y otro llamado MetLIfe que es el que intentare a ver si me aprueban en los papeles para que juan pueda estar conmigo por que en el seguro no dejarian a nadie conocido mio a que me acompañe en mi parto, además de que en el seguro, hay muchos prácticantes de medicina, cualquiera puede intervenir o decidir si se va a sesarea el parto, y meterte la mano para ellos prácticar las medidas en tu vagina de las dilataciónes. además que te están precionando para decidir para la implantación de un metodo anticonceptivo implantado al final del parto. Y POR ESO NO QUIERO EN ISSTE.

De que manera influye el dinero y/o la politica en esta decision?  Como? Por politica de trabajo tengo ISSTE eso si puedo acceder, y económicamente no puedo tenerlo con la que yo queria para que me apoyara en parto en agua, puesto que ella cobra $ 15,000 para recibir al bebe, más $ 4,000 para pagar la duola y $ 3,800 un curso prepedeutico y el hospital donde te permitan tener la tina $5,000 esto sale un costo de más de $20,000. No lo tenemos, yo gano $5000 a la quincena, contrapenas tendria unos tresmil sueltos para pagar uno privado y no tener que acudir al ISSTE. me es más barato en un hospital privado chico por el parto con un medico común que cobrarian entre $5000 a $10000, que un parto natural que está por arriba de los $20,000. La Duola Maricela que está trabajando en una asociación de Duolas para poder incertar una politica de que en el ISSTE se tenga el derecho de una duola (están en esa lucha ellas) me platica que en Jalisco (Norma caracola) es de las más baratas, que las demás parteras o parteros naturales cobran de $20,000 para arriba.

Como puede el publico apoyarte?  Tienes un enlace para donaciones o Paypal? Con tan solo el hecho de leer lo que vayas a escribir (me es suficiente), para documentar la experiencia que a mi pensar se está lucrando con lo natural, al bolerse en estos tiempos venderse como moda como slogans de be natural- organic y por lo tanto triplican los precios, que yo que trabajo en una dependencia gubernamental =/ NO PUEDO PAGAR LO MÁS BE NATURALMENTE POSIBLE =(

Algo mas que gustas compartir? Las raices que deverian estar accesibles al publico, se están convirtiendo en un medio mercantil para cobrar o obtener ganancias mayores, sin olvidar, que solo poca gente podria pagarlo.

[/su_spoiler]

[su_spoiler title=”Marisela Orozco-Herrera” anchor=”Accordion-5″]

What is your name?  How do you ID?  Where are you at/from? My full name is Marisela Orozco-Herrera. I didn’t mind adding on my duality’s last name but I’m pretty attached to my own so I made sure to keep it. At work I still go by Ms. Orozco. I was born and raised in Houston, TX. I identify as native, xicana, and indigena aunque mi sangre es de todas partes de este mundo, soy de estas tierras.

What community movements are you involved in? I have been involved in la danza Azteca  for the past 11 years. I’m currently a part of a a Houston based group, Danza Azteca Taxcayolotl. Many of us are educators. I currently work as the librarian for a charter school where I bring in many of the Mexica teachings into the curriculum, the kids really connect to it. I’m also working with a group of like minded people to create a better learning environment… a type of school for our children and community. This past year I was also fortunate enough to be involved in the Peace and Dignity Journeys as a runner down the Gulf Coast from New Orleans to Houston. The prayer for the seeds was very powerful and means so much for us in the way of maintaining pure and healthy foods, coming together from many indigenous groups as one, sharing our knowledge of the seeds… the process of planting, harvesting, and continuing that knowledge through shared time together. Not only as physical planting seeds but as the seeds of humanity, as people healing ourselves, our families, and communities in order to continue life in a more trauma free existence where we can continue to nourish one another through our culture and traditions. We are the medicine that our ancestors left us, it’s embedded in us, we just have to continue to plant, harvest, and share this knowledge.

What type of birth experience are you choosing to have and why? What other birthing experiences have you had?

This is my first pregnancy so I haven’t had any other birthing experiences. I’m not one to easily rush to the doctor or reach for an aspirin bottle when I don’t feel good. My grandmother was a curandera so she was always our family doctor. It only felt natural for me to seek out other knowledgable women to help guide me in the task of bringing new life into this world. We are currently going to a neighborhood birth center that is located right down the street. I’m planning on giving birth to our little one in water there with the help and support of two midwives y mi dualidad. I feel more comfortable in their hands than at any hospital so I just pray everything goes well throughout my pregnancy and during labor so that I don’t have to step foot into a hospital. They’re all about making me feel at home and bringing in our own medicine such as our sahumador, copal, hand drum, guitar, and any other element we may want to bring in. I know that our baby won’t be rushed away from me after birthing, he’ll be in my arms and will remain in the same room with us at all times. I don’t like the idea of being drugged up or plugged into machines while going through the experience of bringing life into the world, I don’t think that this should be the norm. Much of what we experience in our day to day lives such as getting an education, finding work, deciding where to live, and attaining medical care is political in a way or to some extent. There are standards on what is considered to be appropriate for specific people when it comes to all of the above.

Does politics and/or economic play a role in this decision?  How?

One thing my husband and I have had to deal with is the limited access to care that our insurance has to offer. They will not cover any percentage of my care at a birth center so we must pay everything out of pocket. Even having to obtain an ultrasound has been a bit of a struggle since many imaging centers that are covered by our insurance refuse to work with midwives. I’ve expressed this frustration with our midwives. I’m sure they have already felt this emotion in dealing with these types of institutions and the way that they are viewed in this profession compared to doctors. Still, they don’t even flinch. They keep a very positive outlook and work with us on adjusting our payment plan to better suit our needs. Their support is incredible!

How can folks support you? 

We haven’t created any fundraisers for our expenses

[/su_spoiler]

[su_spoiler title=”Yvette Mendez, Elder” anchor=”Accordion-6″]

The following is an oral herstory via phone with Yvette Mendez, elder from San Antonio, Texas

https://xicanation.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/yvette_mixdown.mp3

[/su_spoiler] [/su_accordion]

Critical conversations: The 21st century MeXicanx maternity experience Our rights as womyn and mothers to assert jurisdiction over our own bodies and lives are being deconstructed at an alarming rate - dare I say as alarming as the miles of ice cracking and melting off the poles of our Mother Earth.

[touristguidebuzz]

How to Eat Around the World on a Vegan Diet

As an omnivore, traveling is pretty easy on my stomach. There’s nothing I won’t eat (or at least try once. Like those fried maggots in Thailand) and I don’t have any food allergies to worry about. Outside of an inability to handle spicy food, I’m pretty lucky. I know scores of travelers who’s food allergies and dietary restrictions make traveling to many regions of the world very, very difficult. Luckily, thanks to the web and apps, it’s become a lot easier to convey your dietary needs to shop owners around the world! In today’s article, I sit down with our community manager and fellow blogger, Chris, who has been a vegan for 12 years. He shares with us how he does it, his favorite resources, and his advice for the non-omnivores out there!

Nomadic Matt: Tell us about yourself! Chris: I live abroad in “sunny” Sweden. I’m vegan, straight-edge, Buddhist, and balding. I’m also a huge nerd (I have a Star Wars tattoo and am a big fan of Dungeons and Dragons).

I grew up in small-town Canada, and after university, I intended to go to law school and get a respectable job, make mad cash, and live the Canadian Dream. I worked two jobs to put myself through school and was able to graduate without any debt. However, somewhere along the way I realized I wasn’t really loving the path I was walking.

Growing up, it was always assumed that if you did well in school, you were sort of obligated to go to university, get a good job, marry, have 2.5 children, etc, etc.

It wasn’t until after my first year of university that I finally had the space and time to really think if I wanted that path. While everything was going well – I was getting good marks, eating well (ish), and going to the gym every day – I didn’t feel challenged by my current situation. There had to be more to life than just jumping through hoops and building a routine. It was then that I gave up my plans of following the career-house-family model and started to look for alternatives ways of living.

How did you get into traveling? Honestly, I think it all started when I was 10. My dad and I went down to Florida to Disney for my birthday, and — not surprisingly — it was an amazing time. I have lots of fond memories from that trip, though what stands out the most isn’t what you’d think. What started me down my road of travel? A seatbelt.

Some of you will remember the car company Saturn. They used to have a car with an automatic seatbelt. It was a cumbersome contraption, but as a 10-year-old, having just arrived in America for the first time, I thought it was amazing. An automatic seatbelt?! It blew my mind. I was captivated by it. I think that’s where it all started. From then on, I realized that there were so many mysterious and exciting things out there. And I wanted to uncover them all.

Ten years later, I was hacking my way through the jungles of Costa Rica. While there, I almost got killed by a jaguar while hiking in the rain forest. It had stalked my group to the top of a mountain, and when I was more or less alone it started to weave toward me. By the time it got close, my guide showed up and we scared it away (though it did stalk us for another few hundred meters). A week later I was chased by a crocodile while kayaking up a river (talk about bad luck, right!?). That trip rekindled my desire to travel and inspired me to change my priorities. I left university early and moved to Japan to live at a Zen monastery where I could have some time to figure out what I wanted to do in life.

I’ve more or less been traveling since.

You’re vegan. Is it easy to travel as a vegan? For the most part but it all depends on your destination and your preparation. In North America and Western Europe, most people understand what you mean when you say you’re vegan or vegetarian. Moreover, if they don’t understand, they likely speak enough English that you can clarify. Many cities in Europe are actually amazing vegan hubs (Berlin and Glasgow to name two).

The trouble arises when you visit somewhere with a high language barrier that also has very different cultural food norms. There are many countries in the world where being vegan/vegetarian is something uncommon and perhaps not entirely understood. In countries like this, the difficulty isn’t finding food — basic staples like rice and vegetables and fruits can always be found at markets and stores — but interacting with locals and having to explain your diet, which can come off as some sort of implicit judgment of their own diet. If you don’t do your research, you can get into some awkward situations.

As a vegan, we sometimes miss out on cultural exchanges. Having a local invite you into their home is something many travelers dream of but, as a vegan, this can be tricky as you now have to politely explain that you cannot eat the food they’re offering. It’s a fine, challenging line to walk.

What are some good resources and tools for vegans planning to travel? Happy Cow is the go-to resource for finding vegan restaurants abroad; it’s like vegan Yelp. You can read reviews and find information about menus, hours, and locations. This is my main resource when I’m searching for good vegan grub abroad.

Another tool I use is Couchsurfing. While there are vegan groups there that you can browse, I just like to message local vegans directly and say that I’m coming to their city and would love to hear their suggestions. People are always happy to share their thoughts, and I’ve come away with some great tips from this. Not only can you ask about restaurants but you can inquire about good grocery stores for vegan options, as eating out every meal will get pricey.

Don’t hesitate to ask the staff of your hostel/hotel or the host of your Airbnb. They are equally valuable resources, too!

Lastly, there are lots of great vegan travel blogs, too. Some of my favorites are Burger Abroad, Justin Plus Lauren, Vegan Food Quest, and of course, my own blog, Lessons Learned Abroad.

Have you had any dietary mishaps while traveling? Many! Just like every other aspect of traveling, your planning will only take you so far. Sometimes things go off the rails and you need to adapt.

When I was in Mongolia, my partner and I were invited to lunch by a local. We were a bit hesitant, considering our diets (my partner is vegetarian), but didn’t want to be rude. So we accepted. It turns out the family had already eaten — they just wanted to make us a meal. They served up some meat dumplings (there are not many cows in Mongolia, so I think it might have been horse meat), kimchi, and fermented milk green tea. Not exactly my standard vegan meal.

But we adapted.

I pretended to drink the tea while my partner downed her glass. We then covertly swapped cups so they wouldn’t notice, thereby leading them to think we both drank the tea.

I ate all the kimchi and then tried to gesture that I was full — they didn’t speak English, after all, so gestures were all I had. They insisted I eat some dumplings, and not taking no for an answer, I had to bite the bullet. I picked up a few and popped them into my mouth. As soon as they looked away I spat them out and put them into my pocket. They were so hot and greasy, they kind of burned my leg as they dripped through my pocket but I played it cool.

After the meal we all went outside and their dogs started hounding me. I tossed them the scraps, and no one was the wiser.

How do you get over the language barrier and let someone know your dietary needs? There are three basic ways to do this:

1. Write it down. I write down phrases in my notebook for each country I visit. I’ll write down things like “I do not eat meat” so that I can show it to servers at restaurants. I’ll write it in the local language, and then phonetically in English so I can read it aloud without too much embarrassment. This is my standard method — which probably hints at just how old I am — though I am slowly coming around to this next method.

2. Use Google Translate. If you have Internet access, then Google Translate is a great method. To be safe, I suggest downloading the necessary languages so you have access offline. You can also use the app to take photos of menus and translate them, which has been super helpful on many occasions!

3. The Vegan Passport. This little book has helpful vegan phrases you can use as you travel. There are versions in around 80 different languages, making it a pretty handy resource for an RTW trip. It costs around $10 but could likely save you some trouble on the road.

Where are the best places in the world to travel to as a vegan? Nowadays you can find vegan restaurants pretty much everywhere. That being said, there are a few places in the world that showcase some impressive offerings. NYC, Berlin, Toronto, and Austin are all great vegan hubs. I’ve had some of the best food of my life in those cities. Additionally, countries with a higher percentage of vegetarians and vegans (like Germany or Sweden) also make it easy to find vegan food products in grocery stores, covering you for all those days you don’t want to eat out (or can’t afford to!). Are there any places that are really difficult? Not surprisingly, I found Russia, Norway, and Mongolia to be challenging as a vegan. Essentially, if a country doesn’t grow many fruits or vegetables then you are sort of out of luck for a lot of options. Don’t get me wrong, I loved all three place but my diet there was mostly bread and unflavored instant noodles. There just weren’t a lot of options.

How do you manage in countries with few vegan options? Plan ahead! Always travel with some extra granola bars or trail mix from home. This will keep you covered during those few instances when it is hard to find a proper meal. I took 30 power bars with me to Russia and ate almost 100 granola bars during my 800km walk along the Camino.

Traveling as a vegan means your meals will not always be glamorous. Making your diet a priority, you sometimes will end up having some pretty bland and unexciting meals. It won’t always be awesome vegan food, so be prepared for those rough patches by bringing some backup snacks. You’ll thank me later.

You’re an avid Couchsurfer! Many people are put off by Couchsurfing, since you are essentially staying with a stranger. Why do you like it? Honestly, CS is my favorite way of finding accommodation precisely because you are staying with a stranger. I like it better than hostels because you generally have more privacy and it is quieter than hostels (no snoring backpackers!). You also get to connect with a local who can answer all of your travel questions. This is a priceless resource, making CS worth its weight in gold! On top of that, there are lots of events and meetups available on Couchsurfing, which are great ways to meet other locals and travelers. The fact that it is free is just the icing on the cake.

What tips do you have for those considering Couchsurfing as a means of find accommodation? If you are planning on using Couchsurfing as your primary accommodation resource, you’ll want to do at least these three things:

1. Get verified. This means you pay a small fee and have your address and phone number verified. You can also send in a copy of a passport, too. What this does is show everyone you’re a legit human being and not someone trying to scam the system.

2. Add tons of photos and information to your profile. Be detailed, so everyone can get a sense of your personality. Share your favorite movies and books, your past trips and adventures, and anything else you think is interesting! Hosts generally prefer to have guests that they share interests with, so this is the best way to find like-minded CSers.

3. Get references. References are the backbone of Couchsurfing. Without them, you’ll almost never find a host. Find friends or coworkers who can vouch for you so that you have some references before you travel. That will increase the odds of you finding a host tenfold.

You’ve been traveling for a while. What’s your #1 tip for new travelers? If I had to boil down everything I’ve learned into one tip it would be this: slow the heck down. I’ve seen too many people rush around, trying to check countries off their bucket list, only to spend most of their trip on buses and planes and trains. Rushing around really takes away from the experience; you are too hurried to really stop and smell the roses. Sure, you may get some great photos for your Instagram, but there is much more to traveling than that!

By slowing down, you really start to soak up each destination. You allow yourself more time to get off the beaten path and to embrace new opportunities as they arise. If you are rushing around, you won’t be able to change your schedule if you find a place you really like. Or what if you meet some cool people who invite you to tag along on their journey? This wouldn’t be possible if you were committed to a hasty itinerary. It’s also cheaper since you won’t be spending so much time and money on transportation!

So, when it comes to traveling, remember: less is more.

Chris is a stalwart budget traveler who is always on the lookout for a good adventure. A vegan of 12 years, he is adept at navigating the ups and downs of traveling with dietary restrictions. When not wandering the world he can usually be found in Gothenburg, Sweden, plotting his next adventure. For more vegan tips and travel tales, you can visit his bog, Lessons Learned Abroad. You can also find him running our forums and Superstar Blogging community.

Photo Credit: 1

The post How to Eat Around the World on a Vegan Diet appeared first on Nomadic Matt's Travel Site.

[fadingfartconnoisseur]

How to Eat Around the World on a Vegan Diet

As an omnivore, traveling is pretty easy on my stomach. There’s nothing I won’t eat (or at least try once. Like those fried maggots in Thailand) and I don’t have any food allergies to worry about. Outside of an inability to handle spicy food, I’m pretty lucky. I know scores of travelers who’s food allergies and dietary restrictions make traveling to many regions of the world very, very difficult. Luckily, thanks to the web and apps, it’s become a lot easier to convey your dietary needs to shop owners around the world! In today’s article, I sit down with our community manager and fellow blogger, Chris, who has been a vegan for 12 years. He shares with us how he does it, his favorite resources, and his advice for the non-omnivores out there!

Nomadic Matt: Tell us about yourself! Chris: I live abroad in “sunny” Sweden. I’m vegan, straight-edge, Buddhist, and balding. I’m also a huge nerd (I have a Star Wars tattoo and am a big fan of Dungeons and Dragons).

I grew up in small-town Canada, and after university, I intended to go to law school and get a respectable job, make mad cash, and live the Canadian Dream. I worked two jobs to put myself through school and was able to graduate without any debt. However, somewhere along the way I realized I wasn’t really loving the path I was walking.

Growing up, it was always assumed that if you did well in school, you were sort of obligated to go to university, get a good job, marry, have 2.5 children, etc, etc.

It wasn’t until after my first year of university that I finally had the space and time to really think if I wanted that path. While everything was going well – I was getting good marks, eating well (ish), and going to the gym every day – I didn’t feel challenged by my current situation. There had to be more to life than just jumping through hoops and building a routine. It was then that I gave up my plans of following the career-house-family model and started to look for alternatives ways of living.

How did you get into traveling? Honestly, I think it all started when I was 10. My dad and I went down to Florida to Disney for my birthday, and — not surprisingly — it was an amazing time. I have lots of fond memories from that trip, though what stands out the most isn’t what you’d think. What started me down my road of travel? A seatbelt.

Some of you will remember the car company Saturn. They used to have a car with an automatic seatbelt. It was a cumbersome contraption, but as a 10-year-old, having just arrived in America for the first time, I thought it was amazing. An automatic seatbelt?! It blew my mind. I was captivated by it. I think that’s where it all started. From then on, I realized that there were so many mysterious and exciting things out there. And I wanted to uncover them all.

Ten years later, I was hacking my way through the jungles of Costa Rica. While there, I almost got killed by a jaguar while hiking in the rain forest. It had stalked my group to the top of a mountain, and when I was more or less alone it started to weave toward me. By the time it got close, my guide showed up and we scared it away (though it did stalk us for another few hundred meters). A week later I was chased by a crocodile while kayaking up a river (talk about bad luck, right!?). That trip rekindled my desire to travel and inspired me to change my priorities. I left university early and moved to Japan to live at a Zen monastery where I could have some time to figure out what I wanted to do in life.

I’ve more or less been traveling since.

You’re vegan. Is it easy to travel as a vegan? For the most part but it all depends on your destination and your preparation. In North America and Western Europe, most people understand what you mean when you say you’re vegan or vegetarian. Moreover, if they don’t understand, they likely speak enough English that you can clarify. Many cities in Europe are actually amazing vegan hubs (Berlin and Glasgow to name two).

The trouble arises when you visit somewhere with a high language barrier that also has very different cultural food norms. There are many countries in the world where being vegan/vegetarian is something uncommon and perhaps not entirely understood. In countries like this, the difficulty isn’t finding food — basic staples like rice and vegetables and fruits can always be found at markets and stores — but interacting with locals and having to explain your diet, which can come off as some sort of implicit judgment of their own diet. If you don’t do your research, you can get into some awkward situations.

As a vegan, we sometimes miss out on cultural exchanges. Having a local invite you into their home is something many travelers dream of but, as a vegan, this can be tricky as you now have to politely explain that you cannot eat the food they’re offering. It’s a fine, challenging line to walk.

What are some good resources and tools for vegans planning to travel? Happy Cow is the go-to resource for finding vegan restaurants abroad; it’s like vegan Yelp. You can read reviews and find information about menus, hours, and locations. This is my main resource when I’m searching for good vegan grub abroad.

Another tool I use is Couchsurfing. While there are vegan groups there that you can browse, I just like to message local vegans directly and say that I’m coming to their city and would love to hear their suggestions. People are always happy to share their thoughts, and I’ve come away with some great tips from this. Not only can you ask about restaurants but you can inquire about good grocery stores for vegan options, as eating out every meal will get pricey.

Don’t hesitate to ask the staff of your hostel/hotel or the host of your Airbnb. They are equally valuable resources, too!

Lastly, there are lots of great vegan travel blogs, too. Some of my favorites are Burger Abroad, Justin Plus Lauren, Vegan Food Quest, and of course, my own blog, Lessons Learned Abroad.

Have you had any dietary mishaps while traveling? Many! Just like every other aspect of traveling, your planning will only take you so far. Sometimes things go off the rails and you need to adapt.

When I was in Mongolia, my partner and I were invited to lunch by a local. We were a bit hesitant, considering our diets (my partner is vegetarian), but didn’t want to be rude. So we accepted. It turns out the family had already eaten — they just wanted to make us a meal. They served up some meat dumplings (there are not many cows in Mongolia, so I think it might have been horse meat), kimchi, and fermented milk green tea. Not exactly my standard vegan meal.

But we adapted.

I pretended to drink the tea while my partner downed her glass. We then covertly swapped cups so they wouldn’t notice, thereby leading them to think we both drank the tea.

I ate all the kimchi and then tried to gesture that I was full — they didn’t speak English, after all, so gestures were all I had. They insisted I eat some dumplings, and not taking no for an answer, I had to bite the bullet. I picked up a few and popped them into my mouth. As soon as they looked away I spat them out and put them into my pocket. They were so hot and greasy, they kind of burned my leg as they dripped through my pocket but I played it cool.

After the meal we all went outside and their dogs started hounding me. I tossed them the scraps, and no one was the wiser.

How do you get over the language barrier and let someone know your dietary needs? There are three basic ways to do this:

1. Write it down. I write down phrases in my notebook for each country I visit. I’ll write down things like “I do not eat meat” so that I can show it to servers at restaurants. I’ll write it in the local language, and then phonetically in English so I can read it aloud without too much embarrassment. This is my standard method — which probably hints at just how old I am — though I am slowly coming around to this next method.

2. Use Google Translate. If you have Internet access, then Google Translate is a great method. To be safe, I suggest downloading the necessary languages so you have access offline. You can also use the app to take photos of menus and translate them, which has been super helpful on many occasions!

3. The Vegan Passport. This little book has helpful vegan phrases you can use as you travel. There are versions in around 80 different languages, making it a pretty handy resource for an RTW trip. It costs around $10 but could likely save you some trouble on the road.

Where are the best places in the world to travel to as a vegan? Nowadays you can find vegan restaurants pretty much everywhere. That being said, there are a few places in the world that showcase some impressive offerings. NYC, Berlin, Toronto, and Austin are all great vegan hubs. I’ve had some of the best food of my life in those cities. Additionally, countries with a higher percentage of vegetarians and vegans (like Germany or Sweden) also make it easy to find vegan food products in grocery stores, covering you for all those days you don’t want to eat out (or can’t afford to!). Are there any places that are really difficult? Not surprisingly, I found Russia, Norway, and Mongolia to be challenging as a vegan. Essentially, if a country doesn’t grow many fruits or vegetables then you are sort of out of luck for a lot of options. Don’t get me wrong, I loved all three place but my diet there was mostly bread and unflavored instant noodles. There just weren’t a lot of options.

How do you manage in countries with few vegan options? Plan ahead! Always travel with some extra granola bars or trail mix from home. This will keep you covered during those few instances when it is hard to find a proper meal. I took 30 power bars with me to Russia and ate almost 100 granola bars during my 800km walk along the Camino.

Traveling as a vegan means your meals will not always be glamorous. Making your diet a priority, you sometimes will end up having some pretty bland and unexciting meals. It won’t always be awesome vegan food, so be prepared for those rough patches by bringing some backup snacks. You’ll thank me later.

You’re an avid Couchsurfer! Many people are put off by Couchsurfing, since you are essentially staying with a stranger. Why do you like it? Honestly, CS is my favorite way of finding accommodation precisely because you are staying with a stranger. I like it better than hostels because you generally have more privacy and it is quieter than hostels (no snoring backpackers!). You also get to connect with a local who can answer all of your travel questions. This is a priceless resource, making CS worth its weight in gold! On top of that, there are lots of events and meetups available on Couchsurfing, which are great ways to meet other locals and travelers. The fact that it is free is just the icing on the cake.

What tips do you have for those considering Couchsurfing as a means of find accommodation? If you are planning on using Couchsurfing as your primary accommodation resource, you’ll want to do at least these three things:

1. Get verified. This means you pay a small fee and have your address and phone number verified. You can also send in a copy of a passport, too. What this does is show everyone you’re a legit human being and not someone trying to scam the system.

2. Add tons of photos and information to your profile. Be detailed, so everyone can get a sense of your personality. Share your favorite movies and books, your past trips and adventures, and anything else you think is interesting! Hosts generally prefer to have guests that they share interests with, so this is the best way to find like-minded CSers.

3. Get references. References are the backbone of Couchsurfing. Without them, you’ll almost never find a host. Find friends or coworkers who can vouch for you so that you have some references before you travel. That will increase the odds of you finding a host tenfold.

You’ve been traveling for a while. What’s your #1 tip for new travelers? If I had to boil down everything I’ve learned into one tip it would be this: slow the heck down. I’ve seen too many people rush around, trying to check countries off their bucket list, only to spend most of their trip on buses and planes and trains. Rushing around really takes away from the experience; you are too hurried to really stop and smell the roses. Sure, you may get some great photos for your Instagram, but there is much more to traveling than that!

By slowing down, you really start to soak up each destination. You allow yourself more time to get off the beaten path and to embrace new opportunities as they arise. If you are rushing around, you won’t be able to change your schedule if you find a place you really like. Or what if you meet some cool people who invite you to tag along on their journey? This wouldn’t be possible if you were committed to a hasty itinerary. It’s also cheaper since you won’t be spending so much time and money on transportation!

So, when it comes to traveling, remember: less is more.

Chris is a stalwart budget traveler who is always on the lookout for a good adventure. A vegan of 12 years, he is adept at navigating the ups and downs of traveling with dietary restrictions. When not wandering the world he can usually be found in Gothenburg, Sweden, plotting his next adventure. For more vegan tips and travel tales, you can visit his bog, Lessons Learned Abroad. You can also find him running our forums and Superstar Blogging community.

Photo Credit: 1

The post How to Eat Around the World on a Vegan Diet appeared first on Nomadic Matt's Travel Site.

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[tamboradventure]

How to Eat Around the World on a Vegan Diet

As an omnivore, traveling is pretty easy on my stomach. There’s nothing I won’t eat (or at least try once. Like those fried maggots in Thailand) and I don’t have any food allergies to worry about. Outside of an inability to handle spicy food, I’m pretty lucky. I know scores of travelers who’s food allergies and dietary restrictions make traveling to many regions of the world very, very difficult. Luckily, thanks to the web and apps, it’s become a lot easier to convey your dietary needs to shop owners around the world! In today’s article, I sit down with our community manager and fellow blogger, Chris, who has been a vegan for 12 years. He shares with us how he does it, his favorite resources, and his advice for the non-omnivores out there!

Nomadic Matt: Tell us about yourself!

Chris: I live abroad in “sunny” Sweden. I’m vegan, straight-edge, Buddhist, and balding. I’m also a huge nerd (I have a Star Wars tattoo and am a big fan of Dungeons and Dragons).

I grew up in small-town Canada, and after university, I intended to go to law school and get a respectable job, make mad cash, and live the Canadian Dream. I worked two jobs to put myself through school and was able to graduate without any debt. However, somewhere along the way I realized I wasn’t really loving the path I was walking.

Growing up, it was always assumed that if you did well in school, you were sort of obligated to go to university, get a good job, marry, have 2.5 children, etc, etc.

It wasn’t until after my first year of university that I finally had the space and time to really think if I wanted that path. While everything was going well – I was getting good marks, eating well (ish), and going to the gym every day – I didn’t feel challenged by my current situation. There had to be more to life than just jumping through hoops and building a routine. It was then that I gave up my plans of following the career-house-family model and started to look for alternatives ways of living.

How did you get into traveling?

Honestly, I think it all started when I was 10. My dad and I went down to Florida to Disney for my birthday, and — not surprisingly — it was an amazing time. I have lots of fond memories from that trip, though what stands out the most isn’t what you’d think. What started me down my road of travel? A seatbelt.

Some of you will remember the car company Saturn. They used to have a car with an automatic seatbelt. It was a cumbersome contraption, but as a 10-year-old, having just arrived in America for the first time, I thought it was amazing. An automatic seatbelt?! It blew my mind. I was captivated by it. I think that’s where it all started. From then on, I realized that there were so many mysterious and exciting things out there. And I wanted to uncover them all.

Ten years later, I was hacking my way through the jungles of Costa Rica. While there, I almost got killed by a jaguar while hiking in the rain forest. It had stalked my group to the top of a mountain, and when I was more or less alone it started to weave toward me. By the time it got close, my guide showed up and we scared it away (though it did stalk us for another few hundred meters). A week later I was chased by a crocodile while kayaking up a river (talk about bad luck, right!?). That trip rekindled my desire to travel and inspired me to change my priorities. I left university early and moved to Japan to live at a Zen monastery where I could have some time to figure out what I wanted to do in life.

I’ve more or less been traveling since.

You’re vegan. Is it easy to travel as a vegan?

For the most part but it all depends on your destination and your preparation. In North America and Western Europe, most people understand what you mean when you say you’re vegan or vegetarian. Moreover, if they don’t understand, they likely speak enough English that you can clarify. Many cities in Europe are actually amazing vegan hubs (Berlin and Glasgow to name two).

The trouble arises when you visit somewhere with a high language barrier that also has very different cultural food norms. There are many countries in the world where being vegan/vegetarian is something uncommon and perhaps not entirely understood. In countries like this, the difficulty isn’t finding food — basic staples like rice and vegetables and fruits can always be found at markets and stores — but interacting with locals and having to explain your diet, which can come off as some sort of implicit judgment of their own diet. If you don’t do your research, you can get into some awkward situations.

As a vegan, we sometimes miss out on cultural exchanges. Having a local invite you into their home is something many travelers dream of but, as a vegan, this can be tricky as you now have to politely explain that you cannot eat the food they’re offering. It’s a fine, challenging line to walk.

What are some good resources and tools for vegans planning to travel?

Happy Cow is the go-to resource for finding vegan restaurants abroad; it’s like vegan Yelp. You can read reviews and find information about menus, hours, and locations. This is my main resource when I’m searching for good vegan grub abroad.

Another tool I use is Couchsurfing. While there are vegan groups there that you can browse, I just like to message local vegans directly and say that I’m coming to their city and would love to hear their suggestions. People are always happy to share their thoughts, and I’ve come away with some great tips from this. Not only can you ask about restaurants but you can inquire about good grocery stores for vegan options, as eating out every meal will get pricey.

Don’t hesitate to ask the staff of your hostel/hotel or the host of your Airbnb. They are equally valuable resources, too!

Lastly, there are lots of great vegan travel blogs, too. Some of my favorites are Burger Abroad, Justin Plus Lauren, Vegan Food Quest, and of course, my own blog, Lessons Learned Abroad.

Have you had any dietary mishaps while traveling?

Many! Just like every other aspect of traveling, your planning will only take you so far. Sometimes things go off the rails and you need to adapt.

When I was in Mongolia, my partner and I were invited to lunch by a local. We were a bit hesitant, considering our diets (my partner is vegetarian), but didn’t want to be rude. So we accepted. It turns out the family had already eaten — they just wanted to make us a meal. They served up some meat dumplings (there are not many cows in Mongolia, so I think it might have been horse meat), kimchi, and fermented milk green tea. Not exactly my standard vegan meal.

But we adapted.

I pretended to drink the tea while my partner downed her glass. We then covertly swapped cups so they wouldn’t notice, thereby leading them to think we both drank the tea.

I ate all the kimchi and then tried to gesture that I was full — they didn’t speak English, after all, so gestures were all I had. They insisted I eat some dumplings, and not taking no for an answer, I had to bite the bullet. I picked up a few and popped them into my mouth. As soon as they looked away I spat them out and put them into my pocket. They were so hot and greasy, they kind of burned my leg as they dripped through my pocket but I played it cool.

After the meal we all went outside and their dogs started hounding me. I tossed them the scraps, and no one was the wiser.

How do you get over the language barrier and let someone know your dietary needs?

There are three basic ways to do this:

1. Write it down. I write down phrases in my notebook for each country I visit. I’ll write down things like “I do not eat meat” so that I can show it to servers at restaurants. I’ll write it in the local language, and then phonetically in English so I can read it aloud without too much embarrassment. This is my standard method — which probably hints at just how old I am — though I am slowly coming around to this next method.

2. Use Google Translate. If you have Internet access, then Google Translate is a great method. To be safe, I suggest downloading the necessary languages so you have access offline. You can also use the app to take photos of menus and translate them, which has been super helpful on many occasions!

3. The Vegan Passport. This little book has helpful vegan phrases you can use as you travel. There are versions in around 80 different languages, making it a pretty handy resource for an RTW trip. It costs around $10 but could likely save you some trouble on the road.

Where are the best places in the world to travel to as a vegan?

Nowadays you can find vegan restaurants pretty much everywhere. That being said, there are a few places in the world that showcase some impressive offerings. NYC, Berlin, Toronto, and Austin are all great vegan hubs. I’ve had some of the best food of my life in those cities. Additionally, countries with a higher percentage of vegetarians and vegans (like Germany or Sweden) also make it easy to find vegan food products in grocery stores, covering you for all those days you don’t want to eat out (or can’t afford to!).

Are there any places that are really difficult?

Not surprisingly, I found Russia, Norway, and Mongolia to be challenging as a vegan. Essentially, if a country doesn’t grow many fruits or vegetables then you are sort of out of luck for a lot of options. Don’t get me wrong, I loved all three place but my diet there was mostly bread and unflavored instant noodles. There just weren’t a lot of options.

How do you manage in countries with few vegan options?

Plan ahead! Always travel with some extra granola bars or trail mix from home. This will keep you covered during those few instances when it is hard to find a proper meal. I took 30 power bars with me to Russia and ate almost 100 granola bars during my 800km walk along the Camino.

Traveling as a vegan means your meals will not always be glamorous. Making your diet a priority, you sometimes will end up having some pretty bland and unexciting meals. It won’t always be awesome vegan food, so be prepared for those rough patches by bringing some backup snacks. You’ll thank me later.

You’re an avid Couchsurfer! Many people are put off by Couchsurfing, since you are essentially staying with a stranger. Why do you like it?

Honestly, CS is my favorite way of finding accommodation precisely because you are staying with a stranger. I like it better than hostels because you generally have more privacy and it is quieter than hostels (no snoring backpackers!). You also get to connect with a local who can answer all of your travel questions. This is a priceless resource, making CS worth its weight in gold! On top of that, there are lots of events and meetups available on Couchsurfing, which are great ways to meet other locals and travelers. The fact that it is free is just the icing on the cake.

What tips do you have for those considering Couchsurfing as a means of find accommodation?

If you are planning on using Couchsurfing as your primary accommodation resource, you’ll want to do at least these three things:

1. Get verified. This means you pay a small fee and have your address and phone number verified. You can also send in a copy of a passport, too. What this does is show everyone you’re a legit human being and not someone trying to scam the system.

2. Add tons of photos and information to your profile. Be detailed, so everyone can get a sense of your personality. Share your favorite movies and books, your past trips and adventures, and anything else you think is interesting! Hosts generally prefer to have guests that they share interests with, so this is the best way to find like-minded CSers.

3. Get references. References are the backbone of Couchsurfing. Without them, you’ll almost never find a host. Find friends or coworkers who can vouch for you so that you have some references before you travel. That will increase the odds of you finding a host tenfold.

You’ve been traveling for a while. What’s your #1 tip for new travelers?

If I had to boil down everything I’ve learned into one tip it would be this: slow the heck down. I’ve seen too many people rush around, trying to check countries off their bucket list, only to spend most of their trip on buses and planes and trains. Rushing around really takes away from the experience; you are too hurried to really stop and smell the roses. Sure, you may get some great photos for your Instagram, but there is much more to traveling than that!

By slowing down, you really start to soak up each destination. You allow yourself more time to get off the beaten path and to embrace new opportunities as they arise. If you are rushing around, you won’t be able to change your schedule if you find a place you really like. Or what if you meet some cool people who invite you to tag along on their journey? This wouldn’t be possible if you were committed to a hasty itinerary. It’s also cheaper since you won’t be spending so much time and money on transportation!

So, when it comes to traveling, remember: less is more.

Chris is a stalwart budget traveler who is always on the lookout for a good adventure. A vegan of 12 years, he is adept at navigating the ups and downs of traveling with dietary restrictions. When not wandering the world he can usually be found in Gothenburg, Sweden, plotting his next adventure. For more vegan tips and travel tales, you can visit his bog, Lessons Learned Abroad. You can also find him running our forums and Superstar Blogging community.

The post How to Eat Around the World on a Vegan Diet appeared first on Nomadic Matt's Travel Site.

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[vidovicart]

How to Eat Around the World on a Vegan Diet

As an omnivore, traveling is pretty easy on my stomach. There’s nothing I won’t eat (or at least try once. Like those fried maggots in Thailand) and I don’t have any food allergies to worry about. Outside of an inability to handle spicy food, I’m pretty lucky. I know scores of travelers who’s food allergies and dietary restrictions make traveling to many regions of the world very, very difficult. Luckily, thanks to the web and apps, it’s become a lot easier to convey your dietary needs to shop owners around the world! In today’s article, I sit down with our community manager and fellow blogger, Chris, who has been a vegan for 12 years. He shares with us how he does it, his favorite resources, and his advice for the non-omnivores out there!

Nomadic Matt: Tell us about yourself!

Chris: I live abroad in “sunny” Sweden. I’m vegan, straight-edge, Buddhist, and balding. I’m also a huge nerd (I have a Star Wars tattoo and am a big fan of Dungeons and Dragons).

I grew up in small-town Canada, and after university, I intended to go to law school and get a respectable job, make mad cash, and live the Canadian Dream. I worked two jobs to put myself through school and was able to graduate without any debt. However, somewhere along the way I realized I wasn’t really loving the path I was walking.

Growing up, it was always assumed that if you did well in school, you were sort of obligated to go to university, get a good job, marry, have 2.5 children, etc, etc.

It wasn’t until after my first year of university that I finally had the space and time to really think if I wanted that path. While everything was going well – I was getting good marks, eating well (ish), and going to the gym every day – I didn’t feel challenged by my current situation. There had to be more to life than just jumping through hoops and building a routine. It was then that I gave up my plans of following the career-house-family model and started to look for alternatives ways of living.

How did you get into traveling?

Honestly, I think it all started when I was 10. My dad and I went down to Florida to Disney for my birthday, and — not surprisingly — it was an amazing time. I have lots of fond memories from that trip, though what stands out the most isn’t what you’d think. What started me down my road of travel? A seatbelt.

Some of you will remember the car company Saturn. They used to have a car with an automatic seatbelt. It was a cumbersome contraption, but as a 10-year-old, having just arrived in America for the first time, I thought it was amazing. An automatic seatbelt?! It blew my mind. I was captivated by it. I think that’s where it all started. From then on, I realized that there were so many mysterious and exciting things out there. And I wanted to uncover them all.

Ten years later, I was hacking my way through the jungles of Costa Rica. While there, I almost got killed by a jaguar while hiking in the rain forest. It had stalked my group to the top of a mountain, and when I was more or less alone it started to weave toward me. By the time it got close, my guide showed up and we scared it away (though it did stalk us for another few hundred meters). A week later I was chased by a crocodile while kayaking up a river (talk about bad luck, right!?). That trip rekindled my desire to travel and inspired me to change my priorities. I left university early and moved to Japan to live at a Zen monastery where I could have some time to figure out what I wanted to do in life.

I’ve more or less been traveling since.

You’re vegan. Is it easy to travel as a vegan?

For the most part but it all depends on your destination and your preparation. In North America and Western Europe, most people understand what you mean when you say you’re vegan or vegetarian. Moreover, if they don’t understand, they likely speak enough English that you can clarify. Many cities in Europe are actually amazing vegan hubs (Berlin and Glasgow to name two).

The trouble arises when you visit somewhere with a high language barrier that also has very different cultural food norms. There are many countries in the world where being vegan/vegetarian is something uncommon and perhaps not entirely understood. In countries like this, the difficulty isn’t finding food — basic staples like rice and vegetables and fruits can always be found at markets and stores — but interacting with locals and having to explain your diet, which can come off as some sort of implicit judgment of their own diet. If you don’t do your research, you can get into some awkward situations.

As a vegan, we sometimes miss out on cultural exchanges. Having a local invite you into their home is something many travelers dream of but, as a vegan, this can be tricky as you now have to politely explain that you cannot eat the food they’re offering. It’s a fine, challenging line to walk.

What are some good resources and tools for vegans planning to travel?

Happy Cow is the go-to resource for finding vegan restaurants abroad; it’s like vegan Yelp. You can read reviews and find information about menus, hours, and locations. This is my main resource when I’m searching for good vegan grub abroad.

Another tool I use is Couchsurfing. While there are vegan groups there that you can browse, I just like to message local vegans directly and say that I’m coming to their city and would love to hear their suggestions. People are always happy to share their thoughts, and I’ve come away with some great tips from this. Not only can you ask about restaurants but you can inquire about good grocery stores for vegan options, as eating out every meal will get pricey.

Don’t hesitate to ask the staff of your hostel/hotel or the host of your Airbnb. They are equally valuable resources, too!

Lastly, there are lots of great vegan travel blogs, too. Some of my favorites are Burger Abroad, Justin Plus Lauren, Vegan Food Quest, and of course, my own blog, Lessons Learned Abroad.

Have you had any dietary mishaps while traveling?

Many! Just like every other aspect of traveling, your planning will only take you so far. Sometimes things go off the rails and you need to adapt.

When I was in Mongolia, my partner and I were invited to lunch by a local. We were a bit hesitant, considering our diets (my partner is vegetarian), but didn’t want to be rude. So we accepted. It turns out the family had already eaten — they just wanted to make us a meal. They served up some meat dumplings (there are not many cows in Mongolia, so I think it might have been horse meat), kimchi, and fermented milk green tea. Not exactly my standard vegan meal.

But we adapted.

I pretended to drink the tea while my partner downed her glass. We then covertly swapped cups so they wouldn’t notice, thereby leading them to think we both drank the tea.

I ate all the kimchi and then tried to gesture that I was full — they didn’t speak English, after all, so gestures were all I had. They insisted I eat some dumplings, and not taking no for an answer, I had to bite the bullet. I picked up a few and popped them into my mouth. As soon as they looked away I spat them out and put them into my pocket. They were so hot and greasy, they kind of burned my leg as they dripped through my pocket but I played it cool.

After the meal we all went outside and their dogs started hounding me. I tossed them the scraps, and no one was the wiser.

How do you get over the language barrier and let someone know your dietary needs?

There are three basic ways to do this:

1. Write it down. I write down phrases in my notebook for each country I visit. I’ll write down things like “I do not eat meat” so that I can show it to servers at restaurants. I’ll write it in the local language, and then phonetically in English so I can read it aloud without too much embarrassment. This is my standard method — which probably hints at just how old I am — though I am slowly coming around to this next method.

2. Use Google Translate. If you have Internet access, then Google Translate is a great method. To be safe, I suggest downloading the necessary languages so you have access offline. You can also use the app to take photos of menus and translate them, which has been super helpful on many occasions!

3. The Vegan Passport. This little book has helpful vegan phrases you can use as you travel. There are versions in around 80 different languages, making it a pretty handy resource for an RTW trip. It costs around $10 but could likely save you some trouble on the road.

Where are the best places in the world to travel to as a vegan?

Nowadays you can find vegan restaurants pretty much everywhere. That being said, there are a few places in the world that showcase some impressive offerings. NYC, Berlin, Toronto, and Austin are all great vegan hubs. I’ve had some of the best food of my life in those cities. Additionally, countries with a higher percentage of vegetarians and vegans (like Germany or Sweden) also make it easy to find vegan food products in grocery stores, covering you for all those days you don’t want to eat out (or can’t afford to!).

Are there any places that are really difficult?

Not surprisingly, I found Russia, Norway, and Mongolia to be challenging as a vegan. Essentially, if a country doesn’t grow many fruits or vegetables then you are sort of out of luck for a lot of options. Don’t get me wrong, I loved all three place but my diet there was mostly bread and unflavored instant noodles. There just weren’t a lot of options.

How do you manage in countries with few vegan options?

Plan ahead! Always travel with some extra granola bars or trail mix from home. This will keep you covered during those few instances when it is hard to find a proper meal. I took 30 power bars with me to Russia and ate almost 100 granola bars during my 800km walk along the Camino.

Traveling as a vegan means your meals will not always be glamorous. Making your diet a priority, you sometimes will end up having some pretty bland and unexciting meals. It won’t always be awesome vegan food, so be prepared for those rough patches by bringing some backup snacks. You’ll thank me later.

You’re an avid Couchsurfer! Many people are put off by Couchsurfing, since you are essentially staying with a stranger. Why do you like it?

Honestly, CS is my favorite way of finding accommodation precisely because you are staying with a stranger. I like it better than hostels because you generally have more privacy and it is quieter than hostels (no snoring backpackers!). You also get to connect with a local who can answer all of your travel questions. This is a priceless resource, making CS worth its weight in gold! On top of that, there are lots of events and meetups available on Couchsurfing, which are great ways to meet other locals and travelers. The fact that it is free is just the icing on the cake.

What tips do you have for those considering Couchsurfing as a means of find accommodation?

If you are planning on using Couchsurfing as your primary accommodation resource, you’ll want to do at least these three things:

1. Get verified. This means you pay a small fee and have your address and phone number verified. You can also send in a copy of a passport, too. What this does is show everyone you’re a legit human being and not someone trying to scam the system.

2. Add tons of photos and information to your profile. Be detailed, so everyone can get a sense of your personality. Share your favorite movies and books, your past trips and adventures, and anything else you think is interesting! Hosts generally prefer to have guests that they share interests with, so this is the best way to find like-minded CSers.

3. Get references. References are the backbone of Couchsurfing. Without them, you’ll almost never find a host. Find friends or coworkers who can vouch for you so that you have some references before you travel. That will increase the odds of you finding a host tenfold.

You’ve been traveling for a while. What’s your #1 tip for new travelers?

If I had to boil down everything I’ve learned into one tip it would be this: slow the heck down. I’ve seen too many people rush around, trying to check countries off their bucket list, only to spend most of their trip on buses and planes and trains. Rushing around really takes away from the experience; you are too hurried to really stop and smell the roses. Sure, you may get some great photos for your Instagram, but there is much more to traveling than that!

By slowing down, you really start to soak up each destination. You allow yourself more time to get off the beaten path and to embrace new opportunities as they arise. If you are rushing around, you won’t be able to change your schedule if you find a place you really like. Or what if you meet some cool people who invite you to tag along on their journey? This wouldn’t be possible if you were committed to a hasty itinerary. It’s also cheaper since you won’t be spending so much time and money on transportation!

So, when it comes to traveling, remember: less is more.

Chris is a stalwart budget traveler who is always on the lookout for a good adventure. A vegan of 12 years, he is adept at navigating the ups and downs of traveling with dietary restrictions. When not wandering the world he can usually be found in Gothenburg, Sweden, plotting his next adventure. For more vegan tips and travel tales, you can visit his bog, Lessons Learned Abroad. You can also find him running our forums and Superstar Blogging community.

The post How to Eat Around the World on a Vegan Diet appeared first on Nomadic Matt's Travel Site.