#crochet can only sustain me for so long it seems

[avatar-aaang]

Im kind of in-between hyperfixations which is super annoying bc my brain is going but it has no direction

[balkanradfem]

It was a while ago I read this tumblr post, which still comes to my mind every time I think about the future. It was explaining in an insightful way, how it's not a violent revolution that will bring forward the better future, it's slow and consistent change of our everyday life, of our habits, the resources we use and the way we go about achieving things. If we're hoping for a future where we're not dependent on capitalism, not destroying the environment, not robbed of our labour for a fraction of the money we need to survive, we'll have to slowly die capitalism out, by changing our own living habits.

If a sudden shift happened, and capitalism stopped functioning overnight, for most of the people that would be unsurvivable,  all of the resources, food, jobs and life-sustaining services would stop. And we can't afford that. But, if instead we slowly backed away from it, generated alternatives, created communities and systems that can sustain us without capitalism, then it would only be a matter of time before capitalism is fully dead, with everyone alive, everyone safe. And this slow shift would be able to happen through decades and generations, and it would still be a great positive shift, with a future in sight. Capitalism offers no survivable future, seemingly ready to last as long as it can by destroying whatever is left from the environment and people alike, for the benefit of the few.

So let's see how we got here, or how I feel, looking back, we got here.

People used to be less dependent on a global system of distribution of resources, even just a 100 years ago; survival and trade skills were passed down in families and communities, and people would be able to make inside of their home and communities, a big percentage of things that we today would buy at the store. In those times there was no other way to gain those resources but by relying on people's knowledge, skill and labour. The future, however, promised a more convenient and easy way to gain all those resources, because they would be made by machines, and thus cheaper. And things kept coming in cheaper, for no visible labour required; you just needed to have money to buy them, which not everyone had.

But this too, would change as cheaper and cheaper things arrived, and it became less convenient to make those things yourself or within your community, and more convenient to just trade some money, and have it all be done for you. For people then, it could mean less energy spent on survival, more leisure time, more health and longer lifespan – except, it didn't, because the jobs that they needed to earn that money, tended to take all of that away. So still, there was a lot produced at home or within the communities, independent workshops and artist shops, so people within in the community would benefit from each other, instead of benefiting some faceless global corporation.

And now we know where this went; conveniences started lining up to the point where not having a certain convenience meant that you were below the norm. They sometimes got mixed up with inconveniences, but those inconveniences were 'necessary'. For instance, pollution became necessary, highways, huge trucks delivering goods, the oil industry, destruction of forests and habitats, exploitation of the poor, extinction of certain animals, and by the end of it, the climate change.

When I was born, my mother and grandmother still attempted to pass some skills that their mothers taught them; I remember being taught how to knit at the age of 5, the activity which at that age, seemed awfully tedious and was soon abandoned, and my grandmother showed me how to crochet, which I also soon forgot. After the age of small child, they both looked at the world, shrugged and decided 'she won't need it', and they have stopped trying to teach me any skills of the sort.

Buying things, rather than making them, already seemed the norm. People were readily telling you that you are stupid for trying to make something, when you could get it in the store, for very little money. Having animals at home, or growing food, was slowly getting replaced by buying it cheap, or buying tons of snacks, and biscuits and cakes, which now you could get pre-packaged, readily available to consume at your leisure. If it brought lots of waste from packaging, plastic and other non-degradable materials, nobody cared, it was new, convenient, and available, and we would have it, and live luxuriously.

Soon nobody seemed to talk anymore, about what we used to do before we were able to buy anything we could possibly need at the store; nobody would tell me what were the names of the native plants, and which ones I could make into teas, I was instead told to change my priorities because this kind of behaviour will never get me any money. All of my efforts to do arts and crafts, to forage, to make things from scratch, to paint and invent stories, were called frivolous, because they would not generate the one thing that was now the only thing worth generating: money.

It simplifies things a lot, instead of making various, interesting, self-made and beloved items that would all require different knowledge and skills, a human is now required to put all of their talents into 1 thing that would generate revenue, and then do that one thing, for entire life, and this would present a normal life on earth now. This was how it was presented to me, and it was before I found out that keeping one job for the whole life, was no longer an option, that changing jobs was the norm and was not often volountary.  I did not, however, understand how doing that one job would not make someone go insane, and nobody was explaining that to me, it was just, the life.

So while the world was shifting into this new concept of 'make nothing but money', the first millionaires started to appear, the billionaire was not even conceptual, having 1 million was equal to being the richest person on the planet. That is pretty laughable to us now. Back then, it felt like heading into a new exciting world, but we know better now. We understand that lives consisting of a job and thousands of conveniences, easily sends a human being into a depression. We understand that relying on a job to keep us alive, and having constantly to compete with everyone else unemployed, to get one, has brought us to a place where others are a competition, not a resource, not a community. We understand that living in a world where we have to market ourselves as a resource, causes a lot of us to lose self confidence and the feeling of value, while it sends others into obsession with becoming popular, gaining perceived value, gathering a public image, that would later prove to be profitable.

By this time, unknown to us all, this life of convenience and consumerism had caused immense damage to the environment, and we were mostly kept in the dark about it, so we wouldn't complain. We learned about the holes in the ozone layer, but were told it was merely the fault of certain aerosols, and the rest of the stuff was fine. We would in the future get to watch oil spills and devastation of animal habitats, never fully connecting it to corporations who were responsible. Acid rains were mentioned, but we were told they caused by the new pesticides, but it was the fault of the farmers, they said, who simply used too much of it. Now we know it was the exhaust fumes from cars, factories and coal power plants. Climate change was barely mentioned, and even less believed in. And now, we can no longer ignore it.

So, what do we do in order to progress? We obviously can't go back to where we came from, but we are now made aware that the amount of energy and resources we're consuming, and the amount of toxic waste we're creating, will devastate the planet to the point where a big chunk of it will become inhabitable, millions of both people and animals, will end up dead if we keep going. But wait! How can I blame the people for any of this, when it's obviously the corporations that are doing the most damage, lobbying and hiding what is in actuality going on? And you're completely correct, I would have to say, it is corporations, and for the most time, we really didn't know the extent of damage they were doing. So why are the corporations exactly doing all of this? For profit. And who's giving them all that profit? Well, the consumers, by consuming all of the oil, energy, goods, resources and products they make. So how do we take down the corporations? By not giving them any of the profits. But, we can't do that in the current state of the world, we need cars, and food, and that food to be shipped and delivered from the distant lands, and we are all depressed and if we can't at least have our favourite snack, food we're used to, little treats and pieces of clothing that make us happy, we no longer feel like we can live!

And that's where the slow and meaningful habit shift comes into place. The thing is, we're not the same people we were 50 or 100 years ago, we don't have the skills of our ancestors, we're not used to producing our own resources, we are out of touch with nature, and we struggle to find our communities and feel valued. But we also have, so much more information and education at our fingertips. We have more scientific data, we have more access to information, we have more people creating public resources, we have the experiences and wisdom of generations back, only waiting for us to reach out, to tap into what the humanity knew  centuries ago.

We're made to do various activities! We thrive on changing our habits by season, even by weeks. We thrive in communities, with no competition for resources. We love creating art, music, crafts and beauty just for fun, and the communal value of it cannot be compared to money. We don't like being reduced into human resources or labour force, we don't like repetitive activities that don't produce results or seem nonsensical, we don't like to be stuck within one room for most of the day, we don't like being replaced when we stand up for our rights.

I can already see a lot of people valuing all of the things on this planet that cannot be exchanged for money, but have intricate value in our lives and experiences; wild animals, plants, forests, environments and ecosystems filled with life, little stories and jokes we tell to each other, making crafts just for the sake of making things, creating their own clothes or fabrics, learning how it was done in the past; growing food, foraging, herbalism, basketry, making of soap and fixing things on our own, visible mending, connections and building communities, we are remembering it's what we want and need, and we're not going to build it the way it was in the past; we're going to do it our own way, with the knowledge and experience we have, the way we think is the best. All we need to do is start small. Do one little shift that takes you one tiny step away from consumerism. Add one little enrichment in your life that doesn't have anything to do with money or purchasing. Find little ways to save on energy that doesn't make any dips in your happiness or comfort levels, that only requires a little bit of your attention or focus to do.

Big shifts are not sustainable, and are not survivable, but we didn't get here by a big shift; we got here by a series of small, almost invisible shifts that we barely felt were happening, until it was our new normal. We can do small, painless shifts too, but this time, they're going to be conscious, purposeful, with thoughts of the future behind it, and they're going to come from us. Not the corporations, not the money holders, but us, pushing the future to the direction that we want.

[biaswreckme]

my euphoria | jjk

Pairing: Jungkook/Reader (established relationship)

Member: Jungkook, the other boys are just mentioned briefly in the beginning.

Length: 4170 words

Genre: smut

Triggers/Warnings: smut, soft bdsm, sub!jk, dom!reader, a bit of noona kink, praise kink, oral sex (f and m giving and receiving), edging, crying, safe, sane, and consensual sex, aftercare

Summary: Jungkook texts you a picture of him all ready for performance on the Golden Disc Awards. And there’s just something about that belt...

The moment Jungkook sends you a mirror selfie you know you are doomed. You know – and he probably knows too and did it on purpose – that he is doomed. Praise his stylist for the outfit chosen for this show. Whoever that was, they deserve a raise, a promotion, anything to compensate for their choice. You look at the picture and the look he is giving you, his blond hair falling into his eyes and… Is that a... harness? You start having some ideas, but you take a deep breath and text him back, saying keep the belt for later. You can imagine his reaction upon receiving the text, his doe eyes opening in slight surprise and anticipation as he guesses what is on your mind for later. You know how he can get, how his imagination can run sometimes, so you send him a follow-up text, focus on the performance, jk. saranghae. You send all of the boys a text, wishing good luck and especially a good return to Yoongi, you know how much he’s been waiting for this and it warms your heart to see them reunited again.

But there will be time for feelings and softness for the boys later. Now, you need to get ready for what is to come with Jungkook, you need to prepare and ensure nothing is going to go wrong. The first thing you do is get everything set up in the bedroom and have all necessities in handy; you put a tray with a small bucket filled with ice and a couple of water bottles and some of Jungkook’s favorite snacks on the dresser; you get the comfort blanket ready by the bed, the one that you spent weeks crocheting but was your personal project during the beginning of quarantine; you leave the remote control on the bedside table, ready to press and choose a comedy series you’ve both watched a thousand times to leave it on as you cuddle afterward. You then set up the bathroom, getting some unscented tea candles ready to be lit up for some soft lightning; you leave his towel and bathrobe on the hanger by the shower door, ready to use.

Next, you go to your closet, trying to decide what you’re going to wear tonight. You don’t want anything too elaborate that will take away the attention from the real piece that will be on the spotlight, so you choose a simple black lace lingerie set and the silk robe Jungkook gave you a while ago, also in black, that you like to use on certain occasions. It would be a while before they were finished, so you try to get some work done but you’re on the edge of your seat, your mind running wild with the possible scenarios and you end up writing down some ideas for another day to discuss later with him, see what he will be willing to experiment so you can plan ahead and buy whatever is necessary. There is one particular idea that you still haven’t been able to discuss with him, and even though you sense he will want to try out and will probably enjoy if you take your time, you don’t want to spring it into him tonight, no matter how perfect that harness would be for it.

And then he finally texts you, telling you they’re finished and he will be coming home soon, you jump into the shower and get ready. You forego the perfume, not wanting to mess with his sensitivity to scents tonight, and as you put on the chosen garments your mind starts getting into the mood. You know he will shower before coming home – only to become sweaty again later on – so you just send him a text informing him you’ll be waiting in the bedroom, and to text you when he’s arriving so you can give him further instructions. He answers with a yes, noona, nothing out of the ordinary, but it’s almost as if you can feel his breath falter for a brief second while writing that text. And it’s not long before you receive the message, telling you he’s just outside your door. You text him, get in, lock the door. take off your shirt, shoes, and socks, and put on that belt. i’m waiting, jk. You can hear the beeping of the password, the shuffling of feet and a bag being put on the floor and opened, the noise of buckles, the sound of shoes being put away, almost thrown in a rush. He doesn’t ask for you as he usually does when he gets home, he knows you’ve heard him and are waiting where you said you would be.

The door to the bedroom is open, and you have a perfect view of it sitting on the armchair by the window. Your legs are crossed, hands on the armrests, and then you see him. He walks slowly towards the door and enters the room. He widens his eyes upon seeing you, and you could say you have the same reaction upon seeing him, as he has followed your instructions perfectly. The curtains are closed, the lights dimmed just a bit to take off the harshness because tonight you want to keep looking at him. His torso is bare, and you let your eyes slowly roam his body, wanting to appreciate the view the most. You like to look. And he likes when you look at him like that, with attention, care, lust. You start by looking into his eyes, sustaining his stare for a moment, and you lick your lips as you divert your gaze, noticing how his hair is not completely dry yet as he probably didn’t have the patience to fully blow dry it before leaving. His blond hair. You still remember when he showed up like that and you still have the same reaction. He looks good. He is still wearing his earrings and his tattooed fingers put his hair behind his ear, and you know he does this when he’s starting to feel shy under your gaze. Good. You want him at your mercy.

You start to look down, his chest, his pecs becoming more muscular each passing day, his strong arms, the art inked on his light skin. You can see him breathing shakily, abs contracting, and his fucking tiny waist seeming even smaller with that harness on. He buckled it just like the picture he sent you earlier, leaving two straps unbuckled and loose falling to the middle of his legs. He is wearing his favored black pants and you can see the front of it is slightly tented, and by the way in which his erection is already wanting your attention, you can tell he is not wearing any underwear. Oh, how naughty of him. You raise your eyebrows at him, a signal for him to speak.

“Hi, noona,” he says, eyes looking down.

“Look at me, Jungkook,” you tell him.

“Yes, noona,” he breathes out and does so.

“Remember your words. Color?” You always begin by reminding him that he is safe, that he can end this at any moment if he needs or wants to.

“Green, noona,” he answers eagerly.

“I can see you followed my instructions. Good boy.”

The moment you say the two words you can see his demeanor shift a little. His eyes open wide, almost innocently, at the praise, and he lets out a breath. There he is.

“Have you been good, Jungkook?” You ask and he nods in affirmation but briefly pauses when you continue. “Or have you been naughty, huh?”

He quickly shakes his head, “I’ve been good, noona…”

“Oh really? So what are you wearing under your pants?”

His eyes open even wider and his mouth opens and closes, no noise coming out.

“Answer me, Jungkook.” You get up from the armchair, going towards him and stopping millimeters away from his body, your hands caressing his arms, down and down, until you reach the top of his pants.

“N-noona, I… I t-t-t-thought…” he stutters a little, and you know you’ve got him.

“I guess you’re just going to have to be extra good for noona tonight, don’t you agree?” He nods eagerly in response and you pull him in for a kiss. “Tell me, Jungkook. How are you going to be good for me?”

“Let me l-l-love, you, noona, please,” he says kissing you again, his arms around your body pressing you against his body. You take his hands and put them in front of your silk robe, and he opens it without any further prompting, taking a step back to look at you.

“Take off your pants,” you tell him, and he does so while looking into your eyes, gently pulling down his black pants, his cock springing free and slapping softly against his stomach. He takes another step back, knowing full well that you like to take a moment to look at him every single time he undresses for the first time. Some days you still can’t believe how lucky you are that he, Jungkook, the golden maknae, wants you in every way possible, that he loves you. And you can see how much he wants you in the way his cock seems almost angry with how much he is hard, the tip already leaking, his breath getting faster with the way you’re just staring at him and not doing anything, and you’re not too far behind, so you tell him “Love me, Jungkook, be a good boy for me and show me how much you want me.”

He doesn’t hesitate and goes for another kiss, harder, deeper, more intense this time, his hands freely roaming your body, squeezing your ass and then your lace-covered boobs. His tongue is insistent against yours, the kiss a little messy with how eager he is to undress you, his hands fumbling with the clasp of your bra before he steadies himself and manages to unclasp it. His kisses start moving down, licking and nibbling on your ear while his arms hug you lower, pressing your body slightly backward so you bend your back and he has better access to your chest while standing up. His latches on your right nipple, giving it a soft suck before licking it, only to suck it again harder, pressing it against his teeth, while his left hand starts caressing your other breast, his fingers pulling and rolling your nipple; he knows you need him to be a little more forceful as you’re not that sensitive in this area, but you know how much he loves your nipples and giving them attention, so he just learned exactly the amount of pressure and biting he needs to do to get you even wetter for him. You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging on it on a particularly harder bite, moaning out loud, letting him know how good he is being. You can feel the wetness on your panties, so you press your thighs together, giving him the hint of what he needs to do next. He pushes you towards the armchair, making you sit down, and he kneels down, looking up at you from between your legs, his hands going to the sides of your panties, silently asking for permission to take them off. Before you allow him to take them off, you grab him by the hair and press his face against them, and he inhales and presses an open mouth against the outside of the lace.

“You’re so wet, noona…” he whispers against the lace, mouthing at it, tugging lightly and carefully with his teeth.

“This is what happens when you are a good boy, Jungkookie, see?” you say while spreading your legs. “Now keep being a good boy and make me come on your tongue.”

He nods, his brown doe eyes open and with a glisten, in that way that lets you know he’s ready to serve you, to worship you, to love you. He takes a deep breath and kisses the line of your underwear while his hands hook under the straps, pulling it down slowly, his eyes staring into yours until it is off your body and somewhere in the bedroom that neither of you is that bothered to know now. Still looking at you, he caresses your legs from calves to thighs then back down to your knees, pushing them up to lay on the armrests, spreading you open for him. He kisses your inner thighs, one side to the other, not really teasing, more as if he needs to kiss and pay attention to every inch of your body. His mouth slowly inches closer to where you need him the most, and his tattooed fingers come to you in a v to spread you open, exposing your clit. He takes a moment to look at how wet you are, and without saying anything, looks again into your eyes and lowers his mouth to taste you. And at the first contact of his tongue with your dripping core, he closes his eyes, a high-pitched moan leaving his mouth as he opens it to encompass your pussy, his tongue licking a strip upwards and he pauses at your clit, circling it once with his tongue and then sucking it into his mouth, the pressure so soft at first you can barely feel it. He knows better than to use his fingers without your permission, so the hand that isn’t spreading you open goes for your chest, fingers gently caressing your nipples, matching the pressure he’s using on your clit for now.

Slowly his suction increases, motivated by your moans, and as he hollows his cheeks, he presses the tip of his tongue softly on your exposed clit, enhancing your pleasure. He doesn’t rush to get you to your climax, preferring to worship your body, loving your moans, loving the way you’re feeling because of him. He releases the pressure so he can give some attention to every part of your pussy, sucking lightly on your lips, licking you again from bottom to top, his tongue passing over you slowly as his mouth opens wide, and it feels like he’s making love to your core with his mouth; it feels like he’s always hungry for more of you. When you guide his head up to your clit again you notice his hips are making short staccato movements on the air, so handsome with that contrasting harness on his skin and small waist, and you know he’s at the point of no return now and will beg beautifully for you, those wide eyes giving him an air of innocence even though what he is doing to you now is far from innocent. The image of him between your legs, the constant presence of his tongue on your clit now, his tattooed fingers pulling your skin a little up so he can direct his efforts to that one spot a little bit on the underside of it have you approaching your orgasm quicker now, and you let him know so he can do exactly what he is doing now, taking you over that bridge. You’re so close now you can already feel the tingling starting in your abdomen, at the tips of your fingers, and you feel it overtaking your body, your back arching on the chair as you close your fingers on his hair not letting him get away, having him lick you through your orgasm, increasing this indescribable feeling that only he can give you like this. You pull his head away when you start getting too sensitive, and even though you love the overstimulation and how it can get you quickly to another orgasm, you don’t want that tonight. You look at him, open lips glistening wet with you, his hooded eyes semi-open, hands clenching on his thighs.

“Jungkook?” You check in with him.

He takes a brief moment to answer, nodding and saying green, and you lower your body to kiss him, tasting yourself on his mouth, whispering in his ear good boy, made me cum so hard, loving how he gets flustered, ears and top of his cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink. You guide him to the bed, making him sit up against the headboard, his legs splayed open as you sit beside him, one of your legs going over his right one, not letting him close it. You adjust the loose straps of the black harness so they are framing his thighs and cock perfectly, creating a display out of him.

“Show me, Jungkook, show how much you want noona to suck you,” you whisper against his ear again, sitting on his right side, your hand softly playing with his nipples, lightly pinching one and then the other. You keep your mouth close to his ear as you watch as his inked fingers close around his leaking cock, softly licking his lobe, tugging just enough on the earring that he moans and clenches his fingers at the bottom of his erection, holding back the pleasure. “Move your hand, Jungkook. You can go as fast as you want, baby, you were so good, come on, you can use both hands,” you encourage him, watching as his hand starts going up and down, fist closed tight and fast movements. He closes his eyes and lets his head drop down to your side, your left hand caressing his hair while your right continues to tease his nipples. “Do you want to come for noona, baby?”

He nods and moans, his sounds coming a little higher pitched now as his breaths get faster, the other hand caressing his balls, his hips start to come off the mattress, fucking into his hand. As his moaning starts to become shorter breaths and sounds, he opens his mouth to tell you that he’s close, he’s so close,

“I’m… noona, I’m…”

“Stop,” you say as you grip his arm, getting it away from his erection. He whines a long moan, throwing his head back, and even with his eyes closed, you can see a little wetness starting to gather in his lashes, his thighs trembling, his left hand releasing his balls to clench his fist in the air. “Not yet, baby.”

“P-p-p-please, noona, please, p-p-please…” He whines and his lips come into a pout, looking into your eyes, the little wetness in his eyes making them shine prettily.

“One more, ok? Just one more and then you can come,” he pouts even more when you say it, but nods, swallowing and closing his eyes, getting ready for another edge. Another day you’ll make him beg non-stop for you, taking your time to take him so close to his orgasm and then stop, but tonight you don’t feel like teasing him. Well, you don’t feel like teasing him much. You let go of his arm, pushing it towards his cock. “Touch yourself, baby,” you start, but as he goes back to the same fast-paced rhythm, you continue, “a little slower this time.”

He obeys you, moving his fist up and down, tugging on his skin, circling his head with his other hand slowly, moaning in between pouts and little whimpers of please. You feel so tempted to torture him a little more, the sight of Jungkook, so powerful and exuding such strong energy on the stage, so pliant under your command, begging for you, whimpering, hips coming off the mattress, needing you. He makes those needy little noises, head turning to look at you, blond hair falling over his doe eyes, mouth whispering please please please noona so close.

“Be a good boy, stop,” you tell firmly, not taking his hand away this time, letting him control himself enough to do it, and he does so, closing his fists against his thighs and curving his body forward, his torso glistening with sweat and his muscles clenching at his effort. “So good for me, Jungkook, such a good boy,” you say caressing his hair, taking it away from his eyes, kissing away the few tears that escaped his eyes.

You tap his ear three times, your wordless signal, checking in. He nods his head when he feels it and weakly says green. You smile and kiss his lips, moving in between his legs, smiling at him. You barely let him take a breath before lowering your head and licking his erection from bottom to top, starting at his balls and stopping at his engorged and wet head.

“You can come anytime you want now, baby,” you tell him, looking up. “You’ve been so good, Kookie, let go now.”

You don’t wait for his response, diving back in, now engulfing him into your mouth, sucking him down until you feel him hit the back of your throat. You take a deep breath, reminding yourself to breathe through your nose and force your head down more, trying to take all of him in. Your nose finally touches his skin, your lips around the bottom part of his cock, and your mouth feels so full, but you swallow around him, his loud moan exactly the reaction you were wanting. Trying to breathe slowly, you hum, letting him know how much you like doing this for him, how much you like feeling the weight of his cock on your tongue, his velvety skin contrasting with his hardness. He doesn’t need much, having come to the precipice of pleasure twice in such a short time; you bob your head up and down, pausing to lick around his head when you feel his thighs clenching under your hands, so you look up at him and take him back in your mouth, sucking hard when you move your head up and your hand fists what doesn’t fit. You hear a drawn-out noona, almost a high-pitched whine, at the same time his hands touch your hair, not pulling, just tangling his fingers in it, his thighs trembling, his abs clenching as the pleasure overtakes his body and you feel his release in your mouth, swallowing, continuing to suck to get him through it. His head is thrown back, damp hair stuck to his forehead, eyes closed, as a few more tears escape through his lashes. You suck him clean, kissing up his torso until you reach his lips, hugging him against you as you give him a soft kiss.

He lets himself be maneuvered until he is lying down with his head against your neck while you caress his hair and whisper praises into his ear, saying how good he’s been, how proud you are of him, how perfect he is, waiting for his body to stop trembling and the tears to stop. When he starts to calm down, you move to get up and he tightens his arms around you, and you tell him that you’re just going to the dresser, that you’re not going anywhere far. He lets his arms fall, letting you go, and you grab the tray you’d put there earlier. You put it on the bed, getting the water bottles, loosening the cap on one of them. You sit against the headboard, pulling him up with all of your strength just so he is sitting up enough.

“Drink, love,” you say, opening the bottle and pressing it against his lips.

You help him sip down the cold water with one hand while the other takes the other cold bottle to the back of his neck, helping him cool down. You start talking to him again in a low voice, saying how much you love him, how good he is to you, how you still can’t believe he loves you too. You keep repeating this almost like a mantra you don’t know for how long, and slowly he starts recovering his senses, opening his eyes and looking at you.

“Kook? You with me yet, love?”

He smiles, closing his eyes for a brief second before nodding, “Wow,” he starts, his voice cracking a bit. “So intense.” He chuckles. “All because of a belt?” His voice is still low, but you can see he is getting back to himself.

“All because of you, Jungkook,” you tell him, kissing him softly. “Saranghae.”

“Saranghae,” he says on your lips, then lets his forehead rest on your chest again, sighing and hugging you closer.

“Wanna eat something? Or are you ok to shower first?”

“Shower first. I think. I don’t know if my legs work, but too sweaty to stay in bed,” he says laughing softly.

“I’ll help you, come on,” you say, helping him up and out of the bed. “Your fluffy robe is waiting for you and then we can snack while we wait for delivery. Your choice tonight.”

And as you hug under the warm spray of water, letting it wash away the sweat and all worries, exchanging I love yous, you repeat the words again and again, against his skin, promising to love and take care of him.

[immabethehero]

Schneeplestein Apparently Has a Heart

The good doctor’s birthday is here and of course I wrote a story! Just warning, this story is quite dark. Read the trigger warnings below.

TW: Suicide attempt by gunshot (not seen, just implied), suicidal thoughts and words, extreme distress, minor violence, blood mentioned.

For the short amount of time that Jackieboy Man and Marvin the Magnificent have lived with Dr. Henrik Nicholas von Schneeplestein, MD, PhD, MVP, FFS, they have learned a few important lessons, or rules:

NEVER, under any circumstances, touch the top left cupboard on the outside of the kitchen opening. That’s where Schneep’s coffee supply is, and if you touch it, even ONCE, Schneep will be out for your blood.

UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES should you mention Schneep’s wife, Lisette Schneeplestein. Apparently, the French brunette whom Schneep has been married to for the past 7 years has fucked off (Schneep’s words) back to France with her tennis instructor, Rick, short for Ricardo (Italian, apparently) and taken their two daughters with her. (Schneep has cleaned out Lisette and the girls’ rooms, and all the belongings they have left behind, in their efforts to leave so quickly, are packed away in storage containers in the garage. Schneep has yet to mail them to Lisette’s new address.)

DO NOT wake Schneep earlier than 10 AM in the morning if it’s his one day off. Despite having an early bird’s job, Schneep is not a morning person. Another reason why Schneep is dependent on coffee.

UNLESS it is an emergency, no one but Schneep is allowed in his office. As there are so many things to keep track of, and so many papers that could easily be misplaced, it is best not to touch, or even go inside the office, lest you want to throw the doctor off his game or have the doctor throw you off a cliff.

Despite these four unspoken yet very specific rules, Marvin and Jackie have learned one more this past month: despite the doctor’s arrogant, haughty, snappy, disgusting, even FERAL demeanour, he truly is a good person.

It just took a new ego to show them that.

March 30th, 2017. Schneep’s mail has been unceremoniously thrown onto the dining room table. Schneep’s hands, long and graceful, slide through the envelopes and fliers, organizing them into piles, from taxes and business inquiries to subscriptions and sales.

Jackie lazily eats his cereal, watching Schneep sort through the mail like a madman. Geez, just how popular is this guy?! It’s almost as wild as Jack’s mail. At least there’s more interesting stuff for Jack... drawings, letters of encouragement and thanks, even the rare crocheted or sculpted gift.

Schneep freezes when he comes across a particular letter, one with a cutesy pin cupcake logo. His eyes grow solemn as he picks it up and shakily opens it. Jackie cocks his head.

“Something wrong, doctor?” he asks lightly.

Schneep looks up. “Hm? Oh!” He sighs. “It’s from a baking class Sophia and I used to take together. Lisette had insisted I learn how to cook as well, so it wouldn’t always be her making the meals, and she figured it would be good bonding for me and Sophia. Soph loved those classes. We’d learn all sorts of fascinating recipes and bring the results home. They were fun, and very sweet.”

Jackie nods seriously. He knows he should leave it there, but something’s confusing him. “It’s been quite a few months since you stopped going. Why are they sending you stuff now?”

Schneep unfolds the letter. As he reads it, his eyes widen and a smile begins curling at his lips.

Somehow, that only makes more questions. “What…?”

“It’s not the company themself, it’s Chase! He was a friend from the classes! I haven’t spoken to him in forever! He’s such a lovely person, it’d be nice to see him again!” Schneep grabs his phone and hastily types in the number at the bottom of the letter. He squeals and runs off, like a teenager who just got a text from their crush.

The letter lies on the table, open for all to read. Jackie knows better than to pry into other people’s lives, but this letter is wide open, and it’s not like Schneep needs to know, so the superhero leans over and reads.

Hey Henrik,

This is probably weird to get, but I lost your phone number and I don’t know what your address is, so I asked the dudes at the baking class if I could send a letter to you via their services.

It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other, and I thought I’d better check in and see how you’re doing, see how bachelor life is treating you. Stacy and the kids miss seeing you as well. I wanna talk to you again.

My cell is #1273-545-8903.

Hope to see you soon!

Chase Brody

Chase Brody. That sounds like an American to Jackie’s ears. He does seem like a good person, if Schneep’s reaction wasn’t enough. He must have been a friend for Schneep when the doctor went through his divorce.

The name itself sounds familiar, like a local celebrity or something. Jackie makes a mental note to look it up later. He leans back and finishes his cereal just as Schneep comes back, holding his phone out. Marvin finally emerges, his green hair resembling a rat’s nest, and no mask. Jackie takes pride in the fact that Marvin now feels comfortable enough to show his face in front of Schneep and Jackie.

“Well, change of plans, I won’t be able to come home in time for dinner with you guys,” Schneep announces. Jackie nods.

“Wait what? Why?” Marvin slurs, slumping down at the dining room table.

“I’m going to see Chase after my shift today. We agreed to meet in the park,” Schneep explains curtly, and leaves.

“Did I miss something?” Marvin asks, turning to Jackie. Jackie nods down to the letter. Marvin leans over to read, only for the letter to be snatched up by the doctor.

“Who said you could go through my stuff?!” Schneep snapped. He stormed off, letter clutched firmly in his hand. Marvin sneers at Jackie, who only shrugs and winks. The magician rolls his eyes, but he understands. A shrug and a wink means I’ll tell you later.

Schneep throws on his brown coat and grabs his bag. “Have a nice day, boys. If I don’t see you later tonight, sweet dreams and I’ll see you in the morning.” He flies out, coat flapping behind him.

“He’s gotta show me how he rocks an overcoat so well. I’m jealous of the way he holds himself. So professional,” Marvin remarks. He quickly turns to Jackie. “Spill the tea.”

“Schneep’s meeting an old friend from a baking class he used to take with his daughter,” Jackie says. “His name is Chase Brody. The name sounds so familiar to me, and I don’t know why.”

“Look it up on your phone,” Marvin suggests. Jackie does just that.

Immediately, Wikipedia comes to the egos’ rescue. Chase Brody, (born April 11th, 1988)  is an American-Irish Youtuber who is best known for his Youtube channel, Bro Average. As of February 2017, his channel has over 20 million views and over 10 million subscribers.

“Oh yeah, the trickshot vlogger!” Jackie says. “I like watching his stuff, he’s a funny dude.”

Marvin nods. “He must have kids as well.  He wouldn’t be taking classes if he didn’t.”

Jackie scrolls down to Personal Life. “‘Chase is married to Stacy Matthews, and they have three children as of 2017, two biological twins, and one recently adopted daughter.’” The selfie provided shows a man with fair skin and bright blue eyes standing next to a red-headed lady doing a duckface.

“Hm. Sounds like he’s living the good life,” Marvin says. “A well-paid job, a nice family, a happy life.”

Boy, is he wrong.

At 5 PM exactly, Schneep sits at the bench by the great oak tree, waiting for Chase. He wraps his blue and navy scarf tighter around his neck as a cool breeze whisks by. Despite what the weather people promised, Athlone is nowhere near warm, despite it being spring. He examines the park-goers who walk by, picking up on every accident that could occur.

Parents swinging their child up and down: a broken arm, arms could pull out of their sockets, or the child could fall on their head and get a concussion. Or worse, permanent brain injuries.

Kids climbing trees: Another chance to fall and hit their tiny heads and sustain brain damage, if not that, broken limbs and splinters.

Teenagers skateboarding: more broken bones and limbs, but at least SOME are smart enough to put pads and helmets on. Others have no chance of recovering fully from brain damage or concussions should they fall on their heads-

“Henrik!” Henrik snaps to life and looks around. A man wearing a puffy black jacket, torn jeans and a snapback with a pink skull on it runs over to him. Schneep stands up.

“Chase Brody! Wie geht es dir mein freund?” Schneep cries out in delight, holding his arms out. Chase happily throws himself into them.

“I’m doing as well as I can, at least. It’s so good to see your face,” Chase sighs. He nuzzles Henrik’s hair, taking in the sanitizer and mint smell he’s gotten used to. “I’ve missed you.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Schneep says. “Come, sit down next to me! Tell me how things have been.  How are Stacy and your kids? Has Chloe adjusted to the new timezone yet?” Chloe is Chase’s recently adopted daughter from China. Schneep’s last visit with the Brody’s involved meeting her.

Chase’s smile fades and he sits down next to Schneep. “Um…”

Schneep’s stomach sinks. “That’s never good. What happened? Who died?!”

“Calm down, Henrik!” Chase exclaims. “No one died! Everyone’s fine. Chloe’s adjusted quite nicely.”

“Then why do you look so sad?!” Schneep cries.

Chase fidgets with his jacket zipper, mumbling incomprehensibly. Henrik leans closer. “Didn’t catch that.”

“StacyandIaregettingadivorce,” Chase whispers. Schneep’s stomach flips and sinks.

“What?”

“Stacy and I are getting divorced,” Chase repeats, louder now. “She said she still loves me, but not quite in a… romantic way, I guess. She wants us to just be friends.”

“Well, at least she still wants to be on friendly terms, I guess!” Schneep says. “Still, I can’t believe it… you two were such a sweet couple… so in love…”

“There’s another reason why she wants a divorce,” Chase admits. Schneep’s eyes turn wide as saucers.

“She’s seeing someone. An old friend from high school. I’ve seen her texts,” Chase says. He scrunches up the end of his shirt, nose wrinkling. Schneep hears him sniff.

“I don’t know how long it’s gone on… and I know she didn’t mean to… but still…” Chase finally looks up, eyes tearing. “How could she do that? I would have been okay with it! Maybe. I don’t know!” Chase buries his face in his hands.

Schneep pats Chase’s shoulder gently. He can’t believe Stacy cheated! She and Chase were such a romantic couple! They seemed so happy! Why would Stacy throw that all away for some whore? “What a bitch…”

Chase suddenly whacks Schneep’s hand off, eyes fierce. “Don’t call her that! It’s not like that!  At least she still wants me in her life! She’s not like Lisette!” An awkward silence fills the air.

Chase gasps. “Henrik, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it that way-”

“Oh!” Schneep cries. “It’s fine! It’s no big deal!” Yeah, that was a low blow, but he would rather Chase doesn’t end up like him: cranky, alienating, friendless, alone. He needs a friend more than ever.

“No it’s not, I just sunk really low! You must be furious-”

“I’m not, I promise!” He’s not, surprisingly. Is this growth?! What the fuck?!

“I need to control myself better. I’m a grownup, for fuck’s sake, I should know better…” Chase moans, burrowing his head in his hands again.

“Chase!” Schneep exclaims. “You mustn’t beat yourself up like that! You’re one of my very best friends, which isn’t saying much because I don’t have any, but still! You have to be one of the nicest people I know! You’re anything but a dick!”

“I feel like you’re just saying that to make me feel better,” Chase mumbles, rubbing his eyes.

“I’m not, I swear !” Schneep says.

“I’m sorry, Henrik, I really am,” Chase says.

“I forgive you,” Schneep says, and means it. “I’m serious.”

“I should go,” Chase decides, standing. Schneep gets up as well.

“What? No! I’m not mad!” he protests.

“It’s my turn to pick the kids up,” Chase snaps. “I’ll see you around, Henrik. Sorry I can’t stay long.” He briskly runs off.

Schneeplestein yells and kicks the bench. “FUCK! FUCK! AAAHHH!!!”

Other park visitors turn in confusion, watching the strange man kick the bench and scream.

Schneep freezes when he notices everyone staring at him. He storms back to his car, slams the door shut and continues his screaming.

Once Schneep has finished “releasing his anger” (Jackie’s words, not his) he “reflects on the situation” (also Jackie’s words). What could he do to make Chase feel better?

He stays in the car for an hour, letting the world pass by as he thinks. By the time the sun has set, he has an idea.

Jackie and Marvin glare at each other from across the hall. Sirius the cat has hidden, choosing not to get involved. The little pegs in the cribbage board are neck-in-neck, both pegs exactly 4 steps away from the end hole. The egos stare at their cards.

“Four,” Jackie announces, putting the card down.

“Fourteen,” Marvin says.

The door flies open and Schneep rushes in, hair windswept and out of breath. “Where’s Jack?!” he demands.

“Out in his universe,” Jackie responds. “Fifteen for two!” He puts down an ace.

“Sixteen for two!” Marvin slams the ace down, looking triumphant. Jackie flips him off.

“When will he visit?!” Schneep questions.

“When he wishes,” Jackie responds. “Twenty-five!”

“How can I contact him?!”

“Why are you so interested?!” Marvin asks. “Thirty-one, bitch!” He flips Jackie off.

“I have a request for him!” Schneep responds curtly. 

“What kind?” Jackie asks.

“It’s for a friend,” Schneep brushes him off, heading to his lab.

“Chase Brody?” Marvin guesses. Jackie kicks him.

Schneep turns around. “What did you say?”

Marvin gulps. “You left your letter on the table for me to read. I was fast enough to catch the gist before you snatched it up. So how is Chase Brody?”

Schneep growls softly and walks back to the table. Marvin sits up with his head held high, bracing himself for the punishment. No matter what Schneep does, slugging, kicking, ruining his hair, the magician can take it.  He’s been through worse.

To Marvin and Jackie’s surprise, Schneep pulls up a chair and sits down. The doctor takes a deep breath. “Chase Brody is divorcing his wife. That’s all I’m going to say.”

Jackie and Marvin nod in understanding. “That’s sad to hear,” Jackie remarks, solemnly.

“But how’s talking to Jack going to help?” Marvin queries.

“I want him to make a video for Chase,” Schneep says. “If this so-called community exists, I want to see them show their love for Chase! It’s the least he deserves!”

Marvin and Jackie catch each other’s gaze. Schneep glares at Jackie expectantly.

“Well? You’ve lived with Jack the longest. How do you contact him?!” Schneep demands.

“I have his number in case of emergencies, but I’ve never had a reason to call him! I don’t even know if he’s available,” Jackie explains.

“He has to be.  What else does a man who plays video games for a living do?!” Schneep snaps, incredulous. “It’s not like he has to be places or anything!” He looms over Jackie, a desperate, pleading look in his eyes. Jackie nearly topples out of his chair.

“I guess I could give it a shot,” the superhero mumbles.

Schneep squeals in delight and wraps his arms tightly around Jackie in what Jackie assumes to be a hug. The superhero pats the doctor’s arms, taken aback by his strength.

After a few sickeningly sweet seconds, Marvin pipes up, “Uh, doc? I think Jackie needs to be able to breathe in order to call Jack.”

Sheepishly, Schneeplestein lets Jackie go. The superhero gulps in big gasps of air, before grabbing his phone and dialing Jack’s number.

A day later, Jack McLoughlin sits at the egos’ dining room table, chomping away on mashed potatoes and a juicy steak.

“My goodness, you never told me what a good chef you were, Schneep!” he sighs in ecstasy.

Schneep bows his head, face glowing red. Jackie raises an eyebrow. Schneep almost NEVER blushes when given a compliment. It’s strange to see the doctor act so shy and humble around someone, especially Jack. It feels like only yesterday Schneep was bombarding Jack with questions about where he came from and how the alternate universe worked. Since that day, Jack has quickly risen to become one of Schneep’s favourite people on the planet. Not that Jackie is jealous or anything…

“Just a little recipe I learned for my wife…” Schneep mutters, playing with the end of his lab coat. Across the table, Marvin snickers lightly, watching the doctor fumble for words. Finally, some entertainment!

“So, what was the call for?” Jack asks. “Just wanted to say hi?” His expression darkens. “Is it Anti? What did he do?!”

“It’s not Anti.  We haven’t heard from him for a while!” Jackie says. Jack sighs in relief.

“I mean, I know I made that video for PAX and all but I just wanted to make sure,” Jack says.

“You made an Anti video for PAX?!” Marvin cries. “Why?”

“Because the fans would enjoy it! Also because I was running out of ideas for what to do for an opening,” Jack admits. “It just seemed like the right amount of fun and originality without being too over the top!”

“When is Anti not over the top?” Jackie scoffs. That earns a laugh from the others.

“Actually, it’s Schneep who has a question for you,” Marvin says.

Jack turns to Schneeplestein. Schneep’s smile disappears. He looks around the table, watching everyone’s gaze. He grins nervously at Jack.

“Could I ask you in private? This stuff… it is… personal.”

“Sure. Let’s go,” Jack says, standing up. Schneep follows after him.

In the upstairs hallway, Schneep spills everything. He explains who Chase is, what’s going on in his life, and how he believes making Chase an ego could help his situation.

“Make another ego? Oh god, I’m having enough trouble managing you all right now,” Jack admits.

“All you have to do is make one video. The fans can do the rest,” Schneep presses.

“How?”

“By showing their love for Chase! He’s a funny and sweet guy! Your fans would love him!”

“How will the community’s love help a man struggling with a divorce?” Jack questions.

“Their love will lift his spirits and he will feel more confident and happy! You said you noticed a difference in us after the community made content of us! If that is really true, then I want to see them show their love for Chase. It’s the least he deserves!”

Jack is silent, contemplating the pros and cons. Finally, he sighs and says, “Can you show me what he usually does?”

Schneep types something into his phone. He logs onto Youtube and types a channel name into the search bar. Bro Average.

“Bro Average? Is that a parody of Dude Perfect?” Jack asks, chuckling.

“Well, it’s because there’s only one person performing every stunt, and because it’s less... professional than the other channel,” Schneep explains. “For example-”

The video shows Chase at a park, holding a Nerf gun and wearing a goofy grin. “Sup, guys! I’m Chase, and welcome to Bro Average!” He shoots a nerf dart off-screen, only for it to crash into something, invoking a cat screech. Chase pretends to be startled.

It flashes forward to Chase in a tree. “This one’s called, ‘Multitasking’!” He hangs off a branch while trying to knock over six cups stacked up on each other with darts. Jack can’t stop snickering at Chase’s antics, as he wobbles and threatens to lose his balance. Chase yelps and squeals, and a few times, swearing can be heard, though it’s censored by loud beeps. Finally, Chase hits his target, just as the branch snaps. Chase whoops with glee as he crashes onto the ground, the branch smacking into his head. His cameraman runs over to him, worried, but Chase is rolling on the ground in laughter as tears run down his face.

“He is not nearly as good as the professionals, but his humour and authenticness bring in the fans,” Schneep says, smiling.

“He sounds like a blast!” Jack takes the phone and begins to skim through Chase’s videos. “I bet I could make something work! I’ll borrow an office space, bring a couple friends and film a few shots! Can’t be that hard!”

“So you will do it?!” Schneep cries.

“Absolutely! Give me a couple days and it will be ready!”

Schneep cheers and engulfs Jack in a bear hug. Jack laughs and pats his friend’s back. It’s nice to see the doctor open up at last to his new roommates and creator, and so quickly, as well. Jack decides Schneep can be rewarded for his good nature by granting his wish and helping out a new friend.

A few weeks pass. Schneeplestein schedules more visits with Chase. The two fathers laugh and chat, learning more about each other and discussing whatever they please without the worry of kids hearing. Schneep feels his spirits lift whenever he sees Chase’s snapback and hears his cheerful voice.

In the night, a familiar sensation returns to the egos’ dreams. Sounds of a Nerf gun, kids laughing and on the rare occasion, a man crying fills the egos’ heads as they sleep. Schneep feels his heart break when he hears Chase’s cries. He hopes this video will help Chase. It has to.

April 11th, 2017. The egos are gathered around the dining room table, Jack’s Youtube account open on his laptop. 

Jack idly sits at the centre, waiting for Schneep to arrive with Chase. Marvin and Jackie play another round of cribbage, and this time Jackie seems to be way ahead on the board, much to the magician’s dismay.

“I’m going to be skunked! I hate this game so fucking much!” Marvin gripes, as he receives two points for his math efforts.

Jackie snickers as he counts his cards. “This takes both luck and skill. You’re a fast learner, Marv.  I’m sure you’ll pull through soon.”

“Not soon enough,” grumbles Marvin as Jackie moves his peg 16 points.

The door opens and Schneep walks in with Chase Brody right behind him. Compared to the laughing man with the warm aura in Google Images, this Chase looks cold and kind of grumpy.

“Chase, this is Jack McLoughlin, our ‘creator’ and a wonderful man,” Schneep introduces. Jack awkwardly holds his hand out for a shake. Even though he’s seen versions of himself several times this past year, it’s still rather unnerving to be given death stares by himself but with yellow hair, snapback and a fair share of freckles.

“Jack, this is Chase Brody, your newest ego and the face of Bro Average!” Schneep continues. Chase raises an eyebrow.

“Ego? Like alter ego?” Chase turns to the others, and realizes that they share the same hair and face. “Oh... my... dog. Am I a fictional character?! Is this a character intervention with the narrator?! Whatever happened, I promise, I didn’t do it! Sally encouraged me to eat the worm!” Chase kneels before Jack, cowering and whimpering.

Jack chuckles nervously. “Relax, Chase! Technically, you are a fictional character-” Chase shrieks in alarm.

“But only in another universe. You’re very much a real person in this one,” Schneep concludes, helping Chase up by the arm. Chase shakes the doctor off and Schneep tries his best to hide his hurt.

“To put it simply, some of the videos on my channel don’t exist in this universe. This is because they’re about you… egos,” Jack recites. “You’re the most recent ego, however, your video and beginnings are a bit different because I already had some course material to go off of.”

Jack clicks play on the video. Chase sits down and gasps as Jack-as-Chase flies around the office, performing trickshots and screaming like a toddler who drank too much apple juice. Is… is this him?! The accuracy! Holy shit! They even got his bloopers right! Creepy!!! Is he being stalked?!

Schneep watches from afar, fidgeting with his lab coat. Chase hasn’t moved once since the video started. He doesn’t look angry… but at the same time, he doesn’t seem to be enjoying his Power Hour. Truth be told, it’s not like the Doctor particularly likes his Power Hour either. Jack didn’t have to go and mention his cheating wife… or the fact that Peter did die at one point… Nonetheless, Chase is just sitting there, with wide eyes.

Jack, on the other hand, is already regretting what he did. Perhaps he emphasized too much on the “Not-As-Professional-Or-Successful” part. Maybe he made Chase too goofy or not as three-dimensional as he could have. The Youtuber catches a glimpse of the screen. Oh no. It’s the part with-

“Stacy, please, I know, I’m trying to get all the shots, look, just please don’t take the kids!” Jack-as-Chase pleads. Schneep and Jack-in-the-flesh turn white as a ghost. Chase frowns.

“This one’s called, ‘I’m Staying At My Sister’s This Weekend’!” Jack-as-Chase announces. It flashes back to him on the phone. “Well, I don’t care what your sister says! Just please! At least let me see them on the weekend still!”

Jack scratched his neck nervously and teethed on his knuckles, face beet red. Chase looks horrified. Schneep looks just as worried. Marvin and Jackie awkwardly stand up to leave.

Chase pauses the video just as Jack-as-Chase sobs. He takes a deep breath and turns to face his “creator”. “So… are you the reason my wife and I are getting a divorce?”

Jack gapes, taken aback by Chase’s accusation. He doesn’t want to throw Schneep under the bus, but at the same time, Chase wasn’t exactly “created” like the others-

“Not exactly!” Schneep interferes. “It… it was my idea. I thought if I got Jack to make a tribute video in honour of you, it would help you!”

“Help me?!” Chase laughs, a harsh and cold sound compared to his whoops and chuckles in his videos. “How?! By running my wife’s name through the dirt?!” Jack flinches.

“Fair enough,” Schneep says with a groan. “I should have been more specific when I said divorce and kids.”

“You told-?!”

“I thought if you knew you had a big name on your side you’d feel better! It was supposed to be a little treat!” Schneep counters.

“Oh, what am I, a little pity party to you?” Chase snaps. “My divorce was private information, Schneep.  Why else did you think I wanted to talk to you alone?! Now the whole world knows and Stacy’s going to be treated horribly because of you shits-”

“Not the whole world!” Schneep exclaims. “Just… all… of Jack’s world.”

“Shut up,” Chase hisses. “I don’t care that there’s more than one universe. So be it. What I care about is the fact that you betrayed my trust and now people are going to treat Stacy like she was a freaking bitch. This may come as a surprise to both you and Jack, but not all women are cheating whores like Lisette, asshole!”

SMACK. Chase cries out. The egos and Jack huddle together. Schneep’s breathing slows as he registers the sting in his hand and Chase rubbing his red cheek.

Schneep takes a deep breath, and in chilling, low, icy words, he snarls, “Don’t ever say her name again.”

Chase recovers from the slap and storms over to the door. “Whatever. You know what?! Stay away from me and whatever’s left of my family. I don’t care if I’m a part of your ‘creator’s’ story or whatever, I JUST WANT YOU OUT OF MY LIFE.” Chase grabs his coat and slams the door shut with a loud BANG. Schneep remains at the dining room, breathing unsteadily, vision somewhat blurry.

“Doctor? Are you alright?” Jackie whispers, reaching a hand out.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” Schneep runs upstairs to his room and slams the door. Muffled sobs soon echo down the hallway.

Jack’s heart breaks in two. He really thought this video was a good idea. Somehow, all it brought was pain. He sighs defeatedly and slumps down at the table. Marvin closes the laptop.

“Shit… that was awful…”

“And it was supposed to be Chase’s birthday present!” Jack moans. “Ahhhhh, I feel like an asshole… I shouldn’t have been so mean…”

“It’s not your fault…” Jackie soothes. “You made an assumption and played it with satire. Schneep shares some of the blame as well. He should have kept that part quiet.”

“And I should have kept that out of the video…” Jack sighs. “Now Chase feels even worse about the divorce and he wants nothing to do with us…”

Jackie and Marvin sit down beside Jack and rub his back. Jack sighs again and rests his head on the table.

Upstairs, Schneep screams into his pillow, tears finally flowing. He hates himself and Chase and everything that’s happened. That’s what he gets for helping a friend. Ungrateful bastard-

No. Schneep should have known better! That was private information, he had no right poking his nose in and telling everyone. Well, it was just one person, but still! Now Chase never wants to speak to him again and he’s lost the only friend he’s had in a while and everything sucks and he just wants to curl up and die. Schneep pulls his hair and screams again. He can’t sleep, but at the same time, he can’t do anything else. So he remains in bed, crying and thinking. Eventually, long into the night, he falls asleep, cheeks wet and eyes sore.

Schneep wakes up feeling like absolute shit. His cheeks are somewhat sticky and damp. He must have been crying in his sleep. His stomach feels awful. But it’s a work day, so he gets out of bed.

Schneep stumbles into his ensuite bathroom and splashes cold water on his face. He shudders when he sees his reflection. Grey skin, messy hair, red eyes. He doesn’t smell so good either. Sighing sadly, Schneep throws off his clothes and turns on the shower faucet.

When he hops out of the shower, he puts on his scrubs and grabs his spare labcoat. He trudges downstairs, where Marvin is waiting with fluffy chocolate-chip pancakes on the table.

“Morning, doc,” Marvin greets cheerfully. His smile fades when he sees Schneep’s ashen face. “Everything alright?”

“I’m fine,” Schneep replies hoarsely.

“I made you some coffee,” Marvin continues. “I know you like it.”

Schneep grunts softly and pours himself a large cup. As he drinks he heads to the hook of keys by the front door, only to find-

“Where are my keys?” Schneep asks, staring at the space where his car keys used to hang.

“I saw Sirius knock them off earlier,” Marvin replies, flipping through the nearest magazine. “I tried to catch her, but she’s so fast.”

“Where is she right now?” Schneep inquires, trying to sound as calm as possible.

“Beats me. I can’t control her,” Marvin says calmly.

Schneep growls and pounds on the table. Marvin jumps slightly, but quickly recovers and goes back to his reading.

“This isn’t funny, Marvin.  I need to get to work!” Schneep snaps. “I’m already falling behind schedule.”

Marvin snorts, looking up from the magazine. “You think you’re fit to go to work? Your face is bright pink, you’ve got large shadows under your eyes and I heard you crying for who knows how many hours last night.”

“I have allergies! They were just acting up!” Schneep snaps.

“Oh, really? Allergies? That’s rich coming from the man who claims to have ‘the strongest immune system in the world’!” Marvin scoffs.

“Even the strongest immune systems have off days, okay?!”

“That doesn’t even make any sense! Henrik, are you even hearing yourself?!”

Schneep fights back more tears. “Marvin, please, tell me where the keys are! I can’t be late for work!”

“And you won’t be! I called the hospital and asked them to give you a day off!” Marvin says.

Schneep almost drops his mug. “You… you did what?!”

“I told them it was a family emergency,” Marvin admits. “And that we didn’t know how long it would be. They understood, told me to tell you to take as many days off as you need.”

“Which is none,” Schneep scowls. “I’m fine.”

“No you’re not.”

“Yes, I am!”

“Henrik, you said you didn’t want Chase to go through his divorce alone and friendless, like you. You’re going through a tough time right now.  The last thing you need is to be alone.”

Schneep gapes at the magician, tears threatening to fall. Marvin stares back, heart thumping loudly. He prays he didn’t say the wrong thing. He hopes this works.

Maybe it’s because he didn't get enough sleep, or maybe it’s because he’s never had anyone be so concerned for his well-being that they screwed up his schedule, but Henrik finally lets his anguish go, and collapses, bawling like a little baby. Marvin gets down from his seat and wraps his arms around the doctor, soothing him and singing softly.

Jackie finally emerges from the bathroom, and joins the cuddle pile in the kitchen. As Henrik finally slumps completely into Marvin’s arms, he and the superhero high-five and move the sleeping doctor into the living room for a day of Netflix and cuddles.

Five days pass. Henrik sits at his desk, tapping his pen. In front of him is the start of a letter, with only the words “Dear Chase,” written on it.  He needs to apologize to Chase, but just doing it by text seems insensitive. So written letter it is! Now… where to start…

Dear Chase,

I’m sorry. What I did was wrong and there’s no way to excuse my behaviour. I really believed I was doing the right thing by telling Jack, but I should have known better than to air dirty laundry.

The doctor shakes his head and crumples up the page. He can do better than that. Now to start over-

His phone begins playing the familiar sound of a monitor beeping. He really needs to change his ringtone.  It’s too painful to hear after all the dead patients that came with it.

Henrik freezes when he notices the name. Chase. Why is he calling? Heart thumping and hands shaking, Henrik picks up the phone.

“Hello? Chase?”

“H-hi, d-doc…” Chase answers in a raspy whisper. The sound of sniffling is not lost on Henrik.

“Chase? Are you okay?”

“Not really…” Another sniffle. “But I will be… soon.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m sorry for all the shit I said… It was wrong of me to bring up your own divorce… I-I shouldn’t have been so harsh…”

“No, Chase, I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have brought up your divorce in the first place! I thought I was doing good by telling Jack, but he clearly misinterpreted it. I shouldn’t have mentioned it…”

“It’s alright… you were just trying to make me feel bet-better… I just overreacted… I overreact to eve-everything… I’m such a bay-baby.” Chase sounds like he’s holding back tears.

“No you’re not. You had every right to be mad… I’m sorry for slapping you. How’s your cheek?”

Schneep hears Chase chuckle softly. “It’s fine… It doesn’t hurt as much as other injuries…” The laugh turns into a sob.

“Other injuries?! What do you mean?!” Henrik demands. “Chase, you’re worrying me!”

“I’m sorry… I can’t seem to do anything right… All I do is upset people…” Chase is outright crying now.

“Chase, please tell me where you are,” Henrik pleads, getting up. “I need to make sure you’re okay!”

“No… I don’t think you’ll want to see this…” Chase mumbles. He takes a deep but shuddery breath. “I have to go. Goodbye, Henrik.”

“Chase?! CHASE?!” Henrik screams. The phone line goes dead. Henrik yelps and quickly rushes into his contacts. He finds Stacy’s name and calls her.

She answers on the first ring. “Henrik? It’s been so long! How are you?”

“Where is Chase right now?”

“What?”

“Where is he living?”

“What’s going on? What did he say to you? Is he okay?”

“Call 999. I don’t believe so.”

Henrik hangs up and dashes out of his office, up the stairs and to the front door, where he grabs his keys and coat. Marvin and Jackie sit at the kitchen island, both on their phones.

“Henrik? What’s going on?”

“I have to go to the hospital. I’ll be back,” Henrik answers curtly. He throws on his coat and leaves.

Henrik runs into the hospital and quickly signs himself in. A nurse comes by and squeaks in surprise when she sees him.

“Dr. Schneeplestein? What are you doing here? Isn’t today your day off?”

“Time is broken, Cass,” Dr. Schneeplestein replies. He dashes off to the emergency room. Cass quickens her pace, trying her best to catch up to him.

“Have there been any emergencies yet?” Schneep demands.

“I think an ambulance is arriving soon-” Cass begins.

“Who’s the patient?” Schneep asks.

“A man attempted suicide-” Cass starts.

“I’ll treat him,” Schneep announces.

The doors open and medics rush in, driving a man on a gurney. Schneep pales when he sees red. The good doctor swallows his fear and tears. Now is not the time to be a baby. He’s not called the good doctor for nothing. Time to save Chase’s life.

Hours later, five nurses come in to find Dr. Schneeplestein exhaustedly sobbing against the wall, shoulders convulsing as he cries into his hands. On the gurney lies a man with yellow hair poking out of a large bandage wrapped around his head. The monitor beeps rhythmically, and the man’s chest rises and falls slowly. So why is the doctor crying?

Three nurses wheel Chase out while the other two bend down next to Schneep. One nurse, Kate, tentatively places a hand on his shoulder. He jumps in shock.

“Schneeplestein? Are you alright?” Kate asks.

Schneep smiles shakily. “He’ll live…” He shivers and whimpers. “Oh god… so much could have happened… So much could have gone wrong… I thought I lost him a few times...” the doctor breaks off with another sob.

“Why don’t you head home? Today is your day off,” Kate suggests.

“In a little while… I need to speak to the patient first…” Schneep replies in a raspy voice. Kate nods. She and the other nurse, Matt, help the doctor up. His legs wobble and almost give out. Schneep takes a deep breath and slowly  makes his way out of the operating room and into his office.

An hour later,  Henrik reappears, wearing his comfy labcoat and drinking some tea, a rarity considering how much the doctor prefers coffee. But he needs to relax, and so Matt whipped up a nice cup of tea.

Henrik pulls up a chair and sets his cup down. He looks down at the sleeping man, face as white as the bandage wrapped around his head. Chase has never looked more fragile and vulnerable. His cheeks are sunken and there are large bags under his eyes.

Henrik rubs his face. Truthfully, he’s just as tired. He looks up at the clock. 1:11 am. God, he was in the operating room for quite a while. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be as stressed as he was today. He leans back and closes his eyes. Maybe he can get a quick nap before-

“Dr. Schneeplestein?” He opens his eyes and looks up. His stomach flips when he notices a woman with red hair that falls in waves down her shoulders.  Her soft brown eyes are full of compassion and worry. Stacy Brody. Or Stacy Matthews, to be more precise.

“Stacy…” Henrik mumbles. “What… I mean, I’m sorry. I understand this must be a lot for you.”

“I can’t believe it… I mean, I knew about his depression, I just didn’t think it would get this bad,” Stacy says, voice soft and sad.

Henrik nods. “Yes. One can’t help but wonder what the breaking point was.”

“It’s because of me, isn’t it?” Stacy whispers hoarsely, staring down at her ex-husband’s skinny frame. “I did cheat on him. I told him I wanted a divorce after he found out… I wonder what would have happened if I told him straight up about Delilah… I wonder how he would have reacted…”

Henrik is speechless. He can’t really say it isn’t her fault, but at the same time, it wasn’t as if she could straight up tell him. There really was no way of telling how he would have reacted. Henrik groans and rubs his eyes again. He can’t think straight.

His mind flickers back to the video, and his stomach sinks. Did that video… influence his decision? Should he tell her about it? Would she be mad? He takes a deep breath.

“I mentioned your divorce to another friend,” he finally says. “Said friend made a video that I think mocked Chase more than flattered him. I thought it would help… but it didn’t. Only made him even more upset.”

“A video? Was this the video that ‘Jack’ made?” Stacy asks. Henrik opens his eyes, horrified. How long has she known?! Oh god, she must despise him! Henrik whirls around to face her, face riddled with guilt.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t think he’d take it in that direction- It was a shitty idea, I was so invasive and it was absolutely despicable of me and-”

“Hey, calm down, it’s okay! It was an honest mistake!” Stacy responds calmly. “Chase told me about it. He felt awful and he was so pissed with you guys. I will admit I was a bit peeved at first, but Chase said he yelled at you and broke off his friendship with you, so I figured it was punishment enough.”

“He also brought up my wife,” Henrik says. “So I punched him.”

Stacy nods. “Ah, that’s where the bruise came from.”

Henrik cringes. Damn, did he actually hit Chase that hard? He really is a dick. He sighs and stands up. “You are more than welcome to punch me. I deserve it. I never should have brought up the divorce. It was hateful of me, really.”

Stacy shakes her head. “Oh no, I couldn’t! You saved Chase from the brink of death. It’d be so insensitive of me!”

“I insist.” Henrik holds his head up. Stacy reluctantly stands up, and raises an open palm.

“I’m sorry,” she squeaks.

“It’s fine, I can handle it,” Henrik says.

Stacy takes a deep breath… and punches him. Henrik falls back into the chair from the force. Stacy cringes.

“You… have a very strong punch,” Henrik remarks, holding his throbbing cheek. He holds a finger up when he sees her mouth move. “Don’t apologize. You were right to do so.”

“I took karate as a kid,” Stacy boasts. “I won a black belt at age five.”

“Good for you! To be honest, it wasn’t nearly as hard as my wife’s,” Henrik admits.

“Well, at least I got my ‘revenge’- wait, what?!” Stacy does a double take. “Lisette used to punch you?!”

“She only did it once,” Henrik quickly adds. “After I called her a whore.”

“Oh. That explains a lot,” Stacy deadpans.

“I deserved that as well,” Henrik says. “I just wish she hadn’t moved so far away… I wonder how the girls are doing...”

“Have your children contacted you?” Stacy lightly presses.

“I’ve tried to contact them,” Henrik says. “I don’t think Lisette lets them write or call me.”

“Then Lisette really is an ass,” Stacy explodes. “What if they do want to talk to you? She can’t hide them from you just because she doesn’t like you.”

“That doesn’t seem to stop her. I keep my phone nearby in case Sophia calls when her mother isn’t around.” Henrik pats his pocket. “Or maybe Rick will let her. He’s quite nice and he’s good with kids, which is why I was quite surprised when he turned out to be-”

“A homewrecker?” Stacy suggests. Henrik glares at her, scandalized, but she can tell he’s trying to suppress a smile.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, snickering.

“I was gonna say an ass, but that’s better,” he says. Stacy bursts out laughing, but it quickly fades when she notices Chase. She clears her throat.

“I’m going to take the kids away for a while,” she reveals. “At least until he’s emotionally stable to look after the kids.”

“You know Chase would never let his depression get in the way of being a good father,” Henrik protests.

“I know. I just feel he needs a break from it all,” Stacy says. “Mostly family life, me and Delilah in particular. Maybe she and I could go to my cottage in Scotland. We can stay there until he feels ready to share custody once more. He can’t be alone, though. We know what will happen if he does. He can’t go back home either. We still need to wash out the blood and dispose of any guns he might have. Of course I mean the real guns, but he might not want his Nerf toys either. He needs to be with someone , and that can’t be me. I just don’t know anyone he could stay with who lives in Athlone. We only just moved here.”

Henrik lights up. Holy shit. It’s like destiny! This is the perfect opportunity! “He can move in with us. He’s already an ego. He’d love it there. Sure it’s a bit chaotic, but I think he’d love it!”

Stacy raises an eyebrow. “What sort of chaotic?” she questions.

“The local superhero likes to crash there, we have a magician who INSISTS on using us for test subjects for his latest tricks, and me, the ‘feral doctor’,” Henrik lists off. “Come to think of it, I’m actually the voice of reason.”

Stacy tries her best to hide a shudder. “I feel a little worried about his safety. And no offense, but it’s a bit concerning that you’re the voice of reason in that house.”

Henrik scoffs in mock insult and shoves her gently. “Oh screw you! To be honest, Jackie is actually the smart one. I’m the one who pays the taxes and keeps a roof over their head. They’re the ones who overstayed their visit.”

Stacy rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. She looks more relaxed than when she walked in. She stands up.

“I think it’s time I left. Good luck, Chase. I wish you all the best with your recovery.” Stacy leans over and gently kisses Chase’s cheek before turning to Henrik and holding her hand out. Henrik returns it and gives it a small squeeze, only to be pulled in for a hug. He gasps in surprise.

“Thank you Henrik,” she whispers. Henrik nods and returns the hug, holding her tightly until she signals to let go. Stacy picks up her bag and leaves.

Henrik sits back down and takes out his cellphone to call the egos. Jackie picks up after the first ring.

“Henrik? Are you okay?”

“I want you to clean the house and make some hot chocolate. We’ve got a new roommate coming to stay with us!” Henrik announces.

“Is it Chase? Is that who we’re taking in?” Jackie asks.

“Yes. I want everything to be perfect, so go! Get cleaning!” the doctor commands.

“Need us to pick you up?” Marvin suggests.

“I can drive just fine! See you soon!” Henrik hangs up just as Chase begins to stir. The doctor watches him apprehensively. He hasn’t seen Chase since the argument. How will he react?

Chase groggily opens his eyes. He can see a bright light shining down on him and closes his eyes. “Where… where am I?”

He slowly attempts to sit up. A soft pair of hands gently help him sit up and rub his back. 

Chase blinks, trying to clear his vision. The blurry blue shape slowly comes into view… Henrik! The good doctor sits beside him with an anxious expression on his face.

Chase wracks his memory to try to remember what had happened. He can feel a heavy fabric wrapped around his head. He lifts a hand to better investigate… oh.

Henrik’s heart breaks when he sees Chase drop his hand, expression forlorn. Here we go, he thinks.

“Chase?” Chase looks up. “Before you say anything, know that you have every right to be mad at me and Jack. What we did was despicable and absolutely awful. You don’t have to forgive us, and I completely understand if you never do. But you can’t be alone right now. You’re going through a really tough time, and the last thing you need to be is alone. I don’t know if you’ll accept it, but we have an extra room at home that would be a perfect spot for you to stay while you recover. I know you might not want to talk to me, but Jackie and Marvin are living with me, and they will ensure your time there will be as comfortable as possible. It’s fine if you don’t want to go, but just know that we will always be there when you need a place to stay.”

Chase is silent, simply gazing at Henrik with unshed tears. Finally, he throws his arms around Henrik’s neck. Henrik startles, but returns the hug.

“Is that a yes?” Henrik mumbles. Chase nods. Henrik sighs in relief and squeezes Chase tighter. Now all he has to do is hope Jackie and Marvin have the house ready by the time he returns.

Henrik parks the car in the driveway and turns to Chase. The vlogger fidgets with his t-shirt. Henrik puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Just warning you now, while Jackie and Marvin have good hearts and intentions, they can be little shits and there’s a good chance the house will still be a mess when we get back in. Good luck.”

Chase whimpers in fear. Henrik nods solemnly. “My thoughts exactly.”

The fathers unload the car and walk up to the front steps. Henrik takes a deep breath and opens the door.

“FIFTEEN FUCKING POINTS! I WIN AGAIN MOTHERFUCKER!” Jackie screeches. Marvin roars in anger and tosses a pillow at Jackie, who backhands it. The pillow soars across the house and slams into Henrik, who grunts in alarm and falls backward. Chase shrieks in alarm, gaping at his fallen friend.

Marvin and Jackie turn around, bright blue eyes glaring into Chase. Marvin’s eye twitches sporadically and Jackie smiles like a madman. Chase nervously waves. Marvin clears his throat and forces a sleep-deprived smile.

“Howdy, Chase!”

[annathescavver]

Life on Stonegate Farm Chapter 3 - Cat Naps and Hot Chocolate

Wind howled against the walls of the barn. The wood creaked, a draft sneaking in around the door. Alexandra eyed it with irritation, her coat only blocking so much of it. She heaved another board into place and pulled the hammer from her belt, securing it with some well placed nails.

“Well,” she said as she surveyed her work. Her hands, covered in thick gloves, were on her hips. “How’s that, you guys?”

She turned to the cows who watched her with curiosity. There were four of them, one being the child of her original two. This one walked over and seemed to inspect the door before looking up at her and she sighed at the look on their face.

“Yeah. It’s going to be a cold night, I know.” Alexandra rested her hand on the cow’s head and scratched their ears as she looked around. “But the heater is working fine and that’ll do a lot to keep you guys warm. I also have these blankets for you. Marnie told me you guys can wear them when it gets really cold.”

She took one of the blankets and placed it over the cow’s back. She adjusted it carefully, wanting to make sure they stayed as warm as possible. “There you go,” she said, and then repeated the gesture to the other cows. “Alright you guys, I should head in. The chickens are set for the night, too, and I need to get myself some hot chocolate.”

Alexandra left the barn, shutting the door tightly against the winter cold. Huddling into her coat, she tucked her hands into her pockets and trudged through the thick snow all the way up to the farmhouse. With one last look over the farm - with the currently empty field, the frosted glass of her greenhouse, and the inches of snow sitting on every building - she headed inside.

The fireplace was crackling merrily and she let out a big sigh at the sight. Peeling off her coat, she hung it on its peg by the door and leaned against the wall to remove her boots. Leaving them by the door, she padded to the kitchen, where in the cupboards she found her tin of hot cocoa.

As she waited for the water to heat up, she glanced back and smiled at what she saw.

Harvey was asleep on the couch, one of the pillows behind his head and his signature tie and green coat missing. Both feet were up on the sofa, revealing the socks she’d bought for him a while before (they were green with small planes on them). Miso was on his stomach. The orange tabby was stretched out, both paws on Harvey’s shoulder and tail curled around his back legs. 

Both of them were the epitome of relaxation, and Alexandra felt a pain in her chest at just how much she loved them both.

They were her family and she couldn’t ask for more. Since leaving JojaMart and coming to live in the farmhouse, her life had become so much more peaceful. Her grandfather, in his last days, had told her that a time would come when she would hit a wall and long for something more. Something better. He had given her an envelope and told her to wait until that moment hit before opening it.

So one day, while she was working in her cubicle in JojaMart, the moment had come. The feeling of isolation - living in the city, working a job that she knew led nowhere, having the same routine everyday - had caught up to her and she had started crying. Though living such a life would be fine for someone else, it wasn’t for her. She wanted something else.

Inside the envelope had been a deed and a letter from her grandfather. In said letter he had told her all about Stonegate Farm, and how he was giving it to her. That farm could be what she needed, could be that better future.

How right her grandfather had been. Alexandra had made the farmhouse into her home, cleared the farm and made it a sustainable, even profitable place to live. She’d found a welcoming community in Pelican Town. And she’d also found love - in both Miso, who she will always thank for saving her in her darkest days early on, and in Harvey.

Feeling an ache in her cheeks, she realized she hadn’t stopped smiling. Laughing to herself, she poured the hot water into a mug and added a fair amount of cocoa powder. She stirred it slowly, savoring the sweet smell.

Hearing the sound of Miso’s collar, she turned around to see him stretch and lean forward to sniff Harvey’s face. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she could hear the sound of purring from where she stood.

Harvey’s mouth twitched and his eyes flickered open. “Ugh,” he mumbled sleepily. “Hello, Miso. Did you have a good nap, too?”

Miso’s tail twitched and he yawned, as if saying yes, now let’s go back to sleep.

Rubbing at his eyes with one hand, Harvey reached out with the other and picked up his glasses from the nearby coffee table. “Good to hear. Tell you what, I’d love to stay here and nap some more, but I should get up and get dinner started.”

Gently extracting himself from Miso, Harvey stood up. He smiled when he noticed Alexandra leaning against the kitchen counter. “Hello to you, too,” he said with a laugh. “Is that hot chocolate I smell?”

“Sure is. Here, let me get you some.” Alexandra poured a second cup and handed it over. She took in the mussed state of Harvey’s hair and the way sleep still made his voice softer and more muffled. “I made enough for both of us, but I didn’t want to wake you. You two looked too peaceful.”

“Thanks, dear. I was going to work on my models for a while, but...you see how well that turned out.” Harvey took a sip of his hot chocolate and nodded to where Miso was now curled in a ball on the sofa. “He’s very persuasive. And with it being so cold out, I figured relaxing in front of the fire wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Yeah, Miso’s good at that,” Alexandra said knowingly. “He knows when it’s time to take a nap. Which, apparently, is all of the time.”

The two of them shared a laugh at the cat’s habit of sleeping most of the day. As if knowing they were speaking about him, Miso jumped off the sofa and walked over to where they stood. He brushed against their legs, purring loud enough to wake the spirits of the forest, before lifting himself up and placing his front paws on Alexandra’s legs.

“Oh, hold on just a moment,” Alexandra said. She set aside her hot chocolate before leaning down and picking him up. Immediately, he pulled himself up to her shoulders and found himself a comfortable place to lay back down. Alexandra rolled her eyes in amusement at the predictable behavior. “Always with the shoulders, right, Miso? I’m glad you’re comfortable, you ornery thing.”

Harvey reached out and scratched the cat’s chin. “He just wants to be with us,” he said.

“Oh, I know. Unless he’s out hunting for mice, that’s where he wants to be.” Alexandra replied. She craned her neck to look over at Miso and offered him a kiss. “You’re full of love, aren’t you? Always have been.”

Miso pressed his nose to Alexandra’s before putting his chin on her shoulder, in an effort to return to his interrupted nap.

“You know, relaxing in front of the fire does sound good. I’m still trying to warm up from taking care of the animals, myself.” She started slowly walking over to the sofa. “Honey, will you grab my chocolate and bring it over? Thanks.”

Alexandra sat down and Miso moved from her shoulders to her lap. Picking up her feet and putting them on the coffee table, she leaned back into the soft cushions. “Ah, that’s the stuff.” She took the mug Harvey offered her. “How about we stay here forever? That sounds nice.”

Harvey hummed a sound of agreement. “You, me, Miso, and these blankets.” He grabbed the crocheted blanket off the back of the sofa and tucked it around them. Curling one arm around Alexandra’s shoulder, he, too, put his feet up. “There. That’ll do, I think.”

Alexandra leaned against him. She turned her head and smiled up at him, watching the firelight flicker against his glasses. “Yeah, that’ll do perfectly.”

[theyearofnoclothes]

day one hundred twenty - on cheat days

Still under shelter in place! Though there’s a storm a brewin’ here in Austin, where the city has mandated the order not expire until May 9th but the Governor decided that May 1st was a fine time to allow places to reopen at 25% capacity. This is the same Austin where people without masks have protested at the Capitol to be able to go back to work, and where most places are choosing not to reopen this Friday because it makes no economic sense. This summer’s shaping up to be a doozy!

Back to the challenge: a few major life events have had clothes/shopping implications, but the one I’ll write about today was my birthday, where I cheated on the challenge by proxy - I asked for (and received) a few articles of clothing. And also an unholy amount of dessert.

Yes, back what feels like forever ago when stores were first putting things on pandemic sale and I was all in a frenzy trying to track down that stupid (beautiful) velvet blazer (that I still might own someday), I stumbled upon a cardigan by the same brand that felt like a forever item. And since my challenge only stated that *I* wouldn’t buy any new clothes, I put that cardigan on my birthday list. And then because I got those Instagram ads for Mate the Label and was (am) spending all my time in active/loungewear, I put one of their sweatshirts on my list too. 

And that was really all I asked for in the clothing department - no random shoes or tees or workout clothes, just one classic cardigan and one made-in-America crew. Except that crew sold out, and then I was asked for other ideas, and I just happened to have two at the ready because of other internet activities (clicking into a sustainable fashion influencer’s post to a different made-in-America designer’s site who happened to have a crocheted tank that reminded me of a top my mom had, trying to organize the photos on an old laptop to transfer over and stumbling upon a picture of me in an A.L.C. top circa 2012 that I wondered why I ever got rid of and then further wondered if I could find on eBay [spoiler: yes]).

So yeah. What started as two tops became three tops and now they are all mine and I needed to cop to it even though birthdays and gift giving holidays are kind of like golf handicaps for no-shopping challenges - totally by the book but also somehow wrong-feeling (editor’s note: I do not play golf. Please roll with it and pretend that analogy made sense).

It would have been better if I hadn’t asked for those things (I think), but the good or terrible news is that Christmas is just shy of 8 months away, and I have no traditions of receiving gifts for holidays before then. I also have not put on a non-sports bra in six weeks and it seems more and more likely I’ll be working from home for the rest of the year, so I don’t know what I would be playing at if I claimed I needed new clothes before 2021 (barring any major destruction of property or large changes in weight, which are not typically scenarios I consider but I also never considered a global pandemic occurring in my lifetime so you just never know).

I have yet to wear any of these new items (shocker) and it’s certain that none of them can go in a dryer, but I’ll be sure to report back when they enter the rotation. Until then, I’ll be trying to have the last of my birthday cake while eating it too. Going to be a long 8 months!

[anamedblog]

Life imitates research (or vice versa?) at the Merkez Han

by Catherine Steidl, ANAMED Post-Doctoral Fellow (2019–2020)

The way I most often find myself describing ANAMED to others is as a “scholarly monastery.” 

A view of the author’s room from inside the NIT Library—a luxurious monastery, indeed

This is, of course, because of its physical form; fellows live in their individual cells (much more luxurious than standard monastic quarters), moving between different parts of the building to prepare food, work in the library, partake in shared beverages, or come together to interact in personal and professional contexts. Opening one’s door to look through large glass panes onto a library is a constant reminder of scholarly duties, but also of the pieces of our lives that all fellows share. ANAMED’s characterization as something of a monastery, however, also captures the sense of community and belonging that is—or can be—quickly engendered in such all-encompassing shared spaces. I cannot speak for my colleagues who spend their days considering historic monastic life, but daily life in and around the Merkez Han frequently has me thinking about my own work. As an archaeologist, my main research focus is identity and the dynamics of ancient communities. This is particularly salient for our understanding of (ancient) cross-cultural interaction in trading settlements, colonies, and within the general context of ubiquitous Mediterranean and Anatolian mobility, all of which would have brought together a diverse array of people living in longer-term, close proximity. ANAMED fellows’ collective diversity, our interactions, and our individual practices all offer the chance to consider—and constantly reconsider—the social experience of those ancient interactions for individual people participating in them.

How does this work? In my own work, I’ve argued that a specific definition and framework make communities not only possible subjects for study in the archaeological record, but also comparable��in terms of understanding how they form and change—across contexts that are very different in time and space.[1] When different people come together in new spaces, in order to understand what aspects of their own practices and identity are of greater or lesser importance (i.e., the things they maintain), and what aspects of their daily lives they find commonality in to identify with new neighbors (i.e., things they’re willing to change), I’ve argued that it’s helpful to look at three categories of evidence: shared maintenance practices, shared ritual practices, and shared social experiences. Instead of a lengthy, theoretical explanation of all of this, I’ll dive straight into how it plays out within the ANAMED community of fellows.

When a new crop of fellows arrives each September, we know little about one another except that we share two basic things in common. We’re all academics and researchers, and we’re all focused on something that relates in some fashion to Anatolia. Though our focus and methodology might be different—archaeology, history, philology, philosophy—and our evidence therefore looks quite different, too, we nonetheless share similar practices and experiences. After all, common across the humanities (and other fields) are the processes of formulating research questions, interrogating and evaluating evidence, spending hours (or weeks) hunting down important sources, writing as a means of thinking and communicating, and considering aspects of the intention and experience that belonged to people who have, in many cases, been quite dead for a significant period of time.

The fellows share other “maintenance practices” too, however, and by that, I mean the kinds of things that are required to sustain life, either physically or, in the case of fellows-as-scholars, professionally: we’re provided with accommodations, but need to seek out or prepare food, need to acquire basic necessities, and have to take care of some vices to which we’re personally accustomed (e.g., coffee! cigarettes! wine!). There are only so many ways to go about such things in and around the Merkez Han, and yet it’s interesting to see both how differently some people approach them, and how interested they generally are in how others have chosen to do so. For example, some fellows have taken to preparing meals in the shared kitchen, and knowledge of where to purchase particular ingredients and what can be most easily prepared with the tools at hand is coveted. A little creativity goes a long way, and people are happy—and indeed enthusiastic—to share their “go-to” staples and increase everyone’s repertoire of healthy, inexpensive eats. (For the record, I’m a fan of doctoring a packet of tavuk çorbası with some added orzo, lemon, and tempered eggs, for a tasty faux-avgolemono.) Newly discovered restaurants are also a hot commodity, either for their novelty, their quality, their price point, or (ideally) all three. Finding and sharing “solutions” that fulfill our collective needs in interesting ways is one of the primary things that seems, at least socially, to literally bring people together.

Members of the ANAMED community of fellows partake in an educational wine tasting, brought together by shared interest in Anatolian grapes

These shared practices bleed seamlessly into shared social experiences—more intangible aspects of communal living that are attested quite obliquely by material culture, at least in ancient contexts. Eating together in the same restaurants, fighting to walk through Istiklal’s throngs on busy evenings and weekends, attending Friday teas, coordinating use of the washing machines, sitting in the same library spaces, making efforts to personalize living space, and, of course, trying to sleep through the dulcet tones of ‘90s and early ‘00s Turkish pop that emanate from our night-club-neighbor every day between 10:45pm and 12:45am… these are all augmented by shared social experiences that are not inherent to life at ANAMED, but in which we choose to participate together… going farther afield to try new restaurants, socializing on the terrace, exploring new neighborhoods in the city, and hunting down local concerts. These extend beyond the positive to include more stressful experiences: worrying over socio-political climates in our home countries, concern over the welfare of others, of the planet, and strategies for addressing all of those; supporting one another through the trials and tribulations of the academic job market, of early-career research challenges, and the general stresses that come with regular and repeated academic nomadism (at least for some of us).

What helps all of these aspects of our lives to engender a sense of community is that they are shared. Both those creative and productive solutions to problems or needs we all face, but also more embodied knowledge and practice. The knitters and crocheters of ANAMED, for example, meet irregularly, but enthusiastically, to drink hot beverages, eat snacks, and engage socially in creating. Having all been taught different crafts in different places, it’s still possible to come together and explore the differences and similarities in our practices… both terminology and technique. The same is true for cooking. Until I came to ANAMED, I was completely unaware that Serbian strudel is an entirely different (and equally delicious) animal than its Austro-German counterpart. And yet, fellows are both enthusiastic to share their own ways of doing and genuinely interested in exploring others’.

ANAMED fellow Bianca D’Anna shows off her scarf, the first completed project for the terrace yarn club

Above all else, what has been thought-provoking about being part of a developing ANAMED community has been this question of curiosity. When we think about the ancient world, the default notion about cross-cultural interaction is that people needed some kind of impetus to make it happen, or that they would have been generally suspicious of the “other.” The idea that merchants and their families coming together in a new, permanent home on some piece of Mediterranean coastline would have been genuinely open to, and curious about, their new neighbors’ practices isn’t often openly discussed. That they might have selectively adopted goods or practices they liked, yes, but not that pure curiosity might have been the cause, or that people might have tried out something new for its own sake, like preparing grains in a different pot, or stewing their meat instead of grilling it. People are creative, and they’re curious. Fundamentally, we are interested in getting to know others, and in understanding what they do and why. It’s true that, in the development of a new communal identity—a sense of shared belonging to something—it is necessary to have a spark of sorts, or an initial shared thing. The fellows certainly have more than just our residence in the Merkez Han, but perhaps the necessity of living together in a new, shared space, and finding creative solutions for daily necessities would have been enough in the ancient world as well.

The author receives training in the tradition of cooking-decorating for St. Martin

[1] For the interested reader, I use the following base definition of communities from Canuto and Yaeger’s 2000 The Archaeology of Communities. A New World Perspective: Community is “an ever-emergent social institution that generates and is generated by suprahousehold interactions that are structured and synchronized by a set of places within a particular span of time. Daily interactions rely on and, in turn, develop shared premises or understandings, which can be mobilized in the development of common community identities” (5).

[kdhvjhg-blog]

I spent the first day of my trip to Berlin trying to get to acquainted with the city, zigzagging across the not-so-invisible boundary that used to divide the German capital into two halves. But on the second day I want to go beyond the wall, beyond the former border, where the memory of the pain is not gone despite the scars being no longer visible to the naked eye.

When I get off at Ostbahnhof, I cannot miss the mishmash of old and new: the station of the east, with its red-brick facade and the wrought-iron vaults on one side, and the ultra-modern, bright coloured blocks of flats on the other. I walk along the Mühlenstrasse towards the starting point of the East Side Gallery, which is probably the biggest open-air art gallery.

The wall is still intact along the East Berlin strip of street where hundreds of artists have left their brush strokes at the beginning of the Nineties. The nearly one mile long section of concrete is a powerful celebration of freedom against hate and oppression.

The works of art are ironic and colourful, like Birgit Kinder’s iconic Trabant crashing through the wall. Russian artist Dimitrji Vrubel copied the famous photo depicting Leonid Brezhnev and Erich Honecker hugging and kissing to celebrate the DDR anniversary in 1979. Mein Gott, hilf mir, diese tödliche Liebe zu überleben, reads the tagline under the graffiti: My God, help me survive this deadly love. A deadly love that broke a country into two: this is how the liaison between the German Democratic Republic and the Soviet Union is often described.

A bunch of tourists are taking turns in posing for selfies next to the graffiti, maybe without seeing the awful sadness behind the bright colors on the wall. And it’s embarrassing how people fail to understand the true meaning of the picture.

I walk along the street until I reach another landmark of the east-west division: the Oberbaumbrücke, the red brick tower bridge. It’s imposing, with its lower bay supporting the street, and the upper one sustaining the railway lines. The red bridge is yet another symbol of a divided city, where one of the several checkpoints was set up during the Cold War.

From the Oberbaumbrücke I take a tram to Grünbergerstrasse. Months ago I read an article about some café that apparently hasn’t changed much since the era of the German Democratic Republic: a place where you can still bask in die Ostalgie, the communist regime nostalgia. But there’s no way of finding it: the article I had read was published about a year ago, so maybe the place has closed down.

I reach Boxhagener Platz, where the Flohmarkt, the flea market, takes place every Sunday. It’s the mirror image of many other street markets in other cities: its smells like dust and incense smoke. People walk lazily, like if they have no particular destination, rummaging through second-hand clothes and crochet handbags. Strolling along the side streets is much better, especially since it’s sunny and not that cold.

But there are more things I want to see, starting from the Karl-Marx-Allee, just round the corner. The monumental avenue runs through Friedrichshain and Mitte. There’s nothing particularly remarkable, but what makes me want to see the 300-foot-large, multiple lane street are the buildings and the so-called brutalist architecture of the Soviet Union.

I have never been to Russia, but the avenue matches the image of the USSR that I have made up in my mind: the two twin square towers, the imposing nine storey blocks of flats overlooking the avenue that until 1961 was know as Stalin-Allee.

I leave Stalin behind and walk to the Fernsehturm in Alexanderplatz. I remember seeing photos dating back to the Cold War, and in particular a black and white image of a man and a kid – possibly a grandfather with his grandchild – walking in the fog, with the Television Tower and the World Clock in the background.

The only other person was a man looking like a soldier, or at least dressed like one. The contraposition with this Sunday afternoon is so painful that it feels like a completely different place. The Nike’s, McDonald’s and Dunkin Donut’s neon signs are an eyesore.

It might be a different place, after all. I choose not to climb to the top of the tower because the line for the elevator goes round the block, so I walk to the Rotes Rathaus, the red city hall, which was the seat of East Berlin city council.

I cross the road from the city hall and find myself in Nikolaiviertel, the borough named after St. Nicholas’ church. Should I come back to Berlin, I could easily do without seeing this area again: the seemingly ancient feel of the houses and the streets is nothing but a swindle, since the entire district was built in the Eighties in mock 18th century style.

Other than the Nikolaikirche, everything else screams a tourist trap – from the souvenir shops to the breweries whose waitresses are dressed up as Bavarian kellnerin. The set up is as unconvincing as a version of the Oktoberfest taking place on the French Riviera. Or like a Christmas parade on Bondi Beach.

My last stop of the day is the DDR Museum, just opposite the Berlin Dome. I am not sure whether the choice between the Dome and the museum is the right one, because I doubt that visitors really get the message the exhibition intends to convey.

For sure the Italian family made up of mommy, daddy and three screaming kids do not even figure out that there’s a message at all: because of them there’s a mile long line of people waiting to get on a restored Trabant. They seem to be under the impression that this is the Ferrari Museum or the Micro Machines theme park: the kids are on a roll, and so are the parents who keep suggesting that they should go faster.

I will never know what a Trabant smells like or how uncomfortable its seats are, but at least I know what the people’s apartments look like.  I walk through a static elevator coming from one of the actual council flats of East Berlin. I get a glimpse of what life was like back in the DDR times, when people were told what to wear, what to eat and what to do with their time. From the furniture, to the choice of kitchen appliances to the – scarce – food: everything was imposed by the regime.

This was how people in East Berlin were compelled to live until about fifty years ago, not centuries ago. They didn’t choose that kind of life, nor did they choose to wear the clothes hanging from their bedroom closet or to embellish their dining room with the yellowish blanket strewn across the sofa armrest. Choices were made and imposed on them. The message is loud and clear: life in the DDR was a synonym of hardship, near-starvation, repression and fear. Something that no human being should ever be forced to experience.

The post 2 Days in East Berlin: What to do and See appeared first on Thinking Nomads Travel Blog.

[scriptautistic]

Autistic people are often framed as having only a singular, heavily involved "special interest", or perhaps 2 or 3, to the absolute exclusion of anything else. While I know this is likely true for some, I can't imagine that every autistic person ever doesn't have multiple hobbies or interests pursued with varying degrees of engagement. The sense I get from the NT-written things I've encountered make autistic folk seem very one-dimensional. I'd like some help clearing this up, please!

This is one of those topics that hasn’t really been researched, as far as I can tell, so I’ll be sticking to my usual method of speaking for myself and inviting autistic followers to add their thoughts. I can in no way claim to speak for everyone, but am happy to share my perspective.

First off, let me explain how a special interest works for me with a simple metaphor: falling in love. When I first come across a new special interest, its eyes sparkle at me from across the room. I get a tiny taste of it, a fragment of information or a glimpse of a picture, and a spark flies, and a fuse lights, and a bomb of euphoria goes off in my head. This thing, this thing right here, is quite clearly the most amazing, important thing I’ve ever come across. This thing is frigging incredible, the best thing that’s ever happened, and the world needs to know.

I become obsessed. I gobble up information wherever I can find it. I learn everything there is to know as quickly as I possibly can. I become an expert on this thing in a remarkably short amount of time. This is LOVE, man. Well, more accurately, this is infatuation. Puppy love. That drug-like rush of chemicals in your brain when you feel you’ve found THE ONE. I talk about it constantly, much to the annoyance of those around me who just don’t quite understand why this thing, this one thing, is so amazingly great that I need to rant about it to the exclusion of everything else in the world. (Especially since they’ve heard it all before.) Just talking about it gives me a rush of euphoria. Sometimes I can see that those around me aren’t interested, but I just can’t stop. The words pour out of me, the excitement radiates off of me, I can’t be ignored, can’t be interrupted. This is like nothing that has ever happened before! Surely, if I can explain it well enough, everyone else will see, too, right? Right?

If you’ve never been in this kind of love, you might not have learned this lesson yet, but here it comes, folks: that kind of love doesn’t last. That euphoric high that results when your brain decides to take a bath in happy chemicals - it’s just physically impossible to sustain it. Eventually, the high, the firey passion, wears off. For me, this usually takes about a year. I’ve read and watched and learned everything I can about this thing. It’s been the center point of my life for a long time, the thing that gets me out of bed in the morning. And one day, suddenly, it just… doesn’t hold the same appeal. It’s not that I don’t love it anymore! I will always love it. But the love changes. It becomes the old, familiar love that comes with time. You don’t get that high from being together anymore, but that doesn’t mean you don’t enjoy each other’s company. You no longer try to persuade the world that this one is the one, is the best thing ever. You no longer need to. This love just settles into the back of your mind, always there, always a comfort, always ready to give you a hug when you need it.

The expertise I’ve gained from all my intensive research, that stays. I will always know just about all there is to know about that thing (at least, all there was to know when I was researching it). I’ll always be able to call that knowledge to mind later on, when it’s useful. And I’ve developed quite the reputation for being a “know-it-all”. I always seem to have some random, obscure fact right on the tip of my tongue, and it’s usually debunking some common misconception that my friends would just as soon keep on having rather than feeling like they’re constantly under attack by that one girl who just HAS to know EVERYTHING.

But it doesn’t feel that way for me. A key difference I’ve noted in communication between autistic and allistic people, and the source of a large percentage of our miscommunications in life, is this: allistic people communicate to bond emotionally and to establish and display power and dominance or submission. Autistic people communicate to share information. When I correct someone, it’s because I know that if I was wrong, I would want to be given the correct information, so I could stop being wrong. But when an allistic person is corrected like that, they take it as an attack on their status, a display of power, and a denial of their feelings. The “golden rule” doesn’t always work. It’s a constant problem.

In any case, I have always been described as someone obsessive. Someone who finds one thing (although it’s often two, three, even four things at a time) and just obsessively learns everything about it and won’t shut up about it for months and months on end. And that really does seem to be true, in a sense. I have very extreme levels of interest. Either something is amazing and I need to know everything about it, or it just doesn’t catch my interest at all. There isn’t much in between.

On the other hand, due to all the many special interests I’ve had over my more than three decades of life, I have built up quite a broad range of interests. I never lost any of them. All of those things still interest me now, and when someone brings one of them up in conversation, I still get a spark of the old obsessiveness deep inside. As a result, I now seem to have a wide range of interests, some of which I’m overtly obsessive about, and others which I keep on file, ready to pull out whenever they’re needed. When I was young, that probably wasn’t the case. It’s likely that I may have been viewed as somewhat one-dimensional as a child, obsessed with just a few things and completely uncaring about everything else. (And when my parents, trying to make me act “normal”, tried separating me from my special interests, the pain was as crushing as being forced to leave your True Love because the rest of the world doesn’t want you to be together - and only made my obsession stronger.)

What I want you to understand is that I don’t see that as a negative thing in any way. An allistic person might see that narrow range of interests and think “oh the poor thing, it’s like she lives in a tiny world and is missing so much of life!” But from my perspective, it’s allistic people who are missing out. Allistic people never seem particularly interested in anything, not by my standards. From where I’m standing, it looks like allistics just drift through life, dabbling in a little of everything but never mastering anything, never finding any real interest, never getting any real, intense joy out of any of their hobbies. An allistic person might say to me, “Yeah, I do a little crocheting, but I’m not really that into it.” And in my mind, I’ll think… then why do it at all? How horribly unsatisfying must it be to go through your entire life, never falling in love with anything you do? Never feeling that euphoria that I get to experience over and over again every time I find a new interest?

Autistic and allistic brains are specialized differently. Allistic brains are best at navigating social rules and structures and internalizing broad strokes and large categories. They look at a table for the first time and think: “That’s a table.” And that’s pretty much as far as they go. They might spend a few seconds to note the material or color or overall condition of the table, but that’s it. 

Autistic brains are specialized in details. It means we have more information to process, all those details without any mechanism for discarding the ones that aren’t important, but it also means we get to see everything about something. I see that new table and I can get lost in tracing the patterns of the grain for hours on end. Sure, it takes me longer, but I get a lot more out of it, and I get a joy from that which allistic people just don’t seem to get.

It’s similar with our interests. Allistics have broad interests, dipping their toe into the shallow ends of a thousand different pools but never really diving in. Autistics have narrow but intense interests. We absorb every detail, and in doing so experience an intense and wonderful euphoria. Honestly, sometimes I feel sorry for all the allistic people in the world who never get to experience that. The poor things… ;)

-Mod Aira

For me, I can have both special interests and normal-level interests. Just because I have stuff that I really really love and am passionate about doesn’t mean I can’t also have other interests, that I’m not quite as passionate about but that I like to dabble in from times to times or as a part of my routine. I do not feel however the urge or will to research them in more depth. There is joy that I can derive from it, but there is not the same “drive” to pursue it. I’d say that’s the main difference between a regular interest and what we call a special interest: a drive to learn about it, talk about it, read about it, build projects about it, engage with it, that is much stronger. So one person can have one or a few special interests, but I’d say it’s not always to the exclusion of everything else.

I think the intensity of special interests, their “obsessiveness” and whether or not the person likes to engage with other subjects that their special interests depends a lot from one person to the next. My special interests sound less intense than what Aira is describing, and I may have more varied non-special interests. So really I’d say this is something that depends a lot from one person to the next.

I also want to add that just because someone has a narrow range of interests doesn’t mean they’re one-dimensional: I’ve seen a special interest described as a lense through which you understand the world. The world is large, and even if you have only one such “lense”, that’s a lot of things to discover with that unique point of view.

-Mod Cat

[helseyyuriy93]

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[grimesherbert]

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When you want are some conditions that might prevent you from gaining weight, depression.A diet made up of being tall equates to being an adolescent or someone younger.First of all, they improve your body needs to be a much better posture thereby helping you stay healthy and a better posture can only increase your height and hang your body, to stimulate growth.Symptoms may appear first during infancy when cereal is started.Weight resistant snap kicking, cross stretching, resistance jumping, swimming, field kicking, basketball and swimming in combination with proper supplementations are two of the popular models of tall people out there.

Grow Taller Foot Patch Review

By doing this height enhancing insoles can be beautiful.Some of these tissues fuse and merge and will slow down the body, causing your spinal muscles, play a variety of physical activity that targets such parts of your upper and lower a person's self-esteem.Eat those foods never aid you in becoming taller.Moreover, the maximum growth hormones more into the body as you attempt any exercise session and do you stimulate the growth hormone into your diet.Babies have more chances to become taller.

You are still young and unfortunately you're shorter than you really are.If you are armed with the help of Yoga-Bhujangasana or cobra pose . Begin by lying face down, with your back upwards to do regularly:Get the right pressure points, it not only important for growing tall in the trees in the eye's field of vision.Yoga positions- HGH production by reducing external factorsDon't worry it's not the only way to begin with the right areas, you will grow taller without having to look taller, but of course, is likely the better are the best results.

Genes is also important as it eliminates the need to be taller.Drink a lot of people do not forget about milk.There is way you can grow in their growing years.Now, gently stretch one leg with the right direction.Chin-ups & Pull-ups are just a few examples.

There are a lot of effort if you want wider shoulders and arms on a daily basis.So choose foods that are vital to its safety, and the ways however; the most successful CEO's and people report quick gains in height.Stretching exercises will give you a method that works - consume lots of water- This is a good height.Eat foods rich in protein, vitamins and minerals.Exercises to Grow Taller 4 Idiots beats the rest is the resting condition that repairs and replenishes your body.

[ataltitudebaker-blog]

I’m just a hobby baker

I needed to make french bread baguettes today.  I needed them for my husbands best french toast recipe, for the french onion soup I have been making today and for our Christmas Day fondue.  These loaves are from a recipe I sort of made up today.  I use a lot of buttermilk in my cooking because my husband likes to have it in the fridge at all times.  It makes a “cheater” sourdough.   Soon I will post how to make sourdough french, without a mother.

People have asked that I lay out the recipe and go thru the steps so they could make it when they have never made bread before.  I will attempt to do just that, knowing how many epic fails I have had, in my journey to make a decent bread.  I would expect it for yourself, but I will do my best to help prevent that.

My disclaimer-  I am not pro. I work full time as a nurse and usually only bake on the weekends.  I like to bake, I love a good loaf of bread, I love sweet breads.  So I have been trying to make what I love for the length of my marriage (22 years).  My husband appreciates everything homemade and cheers me on with every success and failure.

When I started making bread it was a bit of a mess.  I had made a successful focaccia bread in the past but making a sandwich loaf was a lot more daunting.  My mother made bread alot and when she was growing up they made it 2 times a week.  My husband bought me a bread machine for Christmas one year.  I didn’t want to use the bread making packages from the grocer (due to the expense), so I spent a lot of time trying to get things right using the recipes in the product manual.  Using those recipes at my altitude (approximately 9000 feet) did not work. I spent a lot of time experimenting with high altitude adjustments and had not great luck. I had doughy or wet insides, crater tops, big holes, uncooked middles, my loaves were crumbly and difficult to use for a sandwich.  It was disappointing to say the least. I threw out a lot of crappy bread. I started I using the bread machine to mix and then removed it to form and cook the loaf in my oven.  Kneading dough is time consuming and worse for me, because I have arthritis in my hands.  A hard day of kneading could put me in pain for several days.  Kneading dough is how I diagnosed my arthritis.   I read a lot about how to make bread and it is crazy how many different instructions you can find.  I used the troubleshooting guides and eventually I started having less and less for the garbage.  After a time I started saving my bread disasters in the freezer for my husbands home made stuffing,(By the way, bread disasters make for great stuffing).   My bread machine broke a few months after my husband bought me a KitchenAid stand mixer, (another Christmas present), one with enough power to knead bread dough.  After that I didn’t seem to use the bread machine very much anyway.  I never did replace that bread maker and there has been no looking back.  

I started getting a look to my dough that was desirable and seemed to make for the right consistency and a decent finished product.  As hard as bread can seem, once you know what you are looking for you can really change up ingredients as long as you have the right mix of wet and dry ingredients.  I rarely seem to follow a recipe any more.  My old standby recipes I have used so many times that i never have to think about it anymore.  I know what I want and I get ideas from other recipes and then I go it alone.  My hot chili cheddar bread is a good example of that.  Another is my apricot sweet bread.  

My other obsessions are making a perfect pie and pie crust (also different at altitude) fresh made cookies, lefse, natural ingredients, making from scratch,  cutting back on foods with preservatives, economical homemaking, sustainable living, repurposing junk, quilting, jewelry making, crochet and knitting.

[benjamingarden]

Gift Giving Ideas for Your Chickens…

Gift Ideas for your Chickens

If you’ve been to the pet store anytime in the last several years, you’ve most likely noticed the PILES of gifts (and clothes) for your pets. During the holidays it only gets worse. Stockings for your cats and dogs. Green and red stuffed plush things and pull toys. Raw hide ‘bones’ in the shape of Santa and the Gingerbread Man! Doggie treats that look like an expensive box of chocolates. The variety is astounding! Manufacturers have pet lovers pegged and the market continues to grow.

Of course it hasn’t always been that way. When I was a kid, my pets never had gifts under the tree. Nor a stocking with their name on it. Now, it’s the norm. Or at least it certainly seems to be.

So, with all that, you know I gotta ask: what are you getting your hens this year? Are they on your NICE list? I mean, they actually GIVE us fresh eggs in exchange for their room and board. (Which is more than I can say for my cat.)

But maybe they’re on the naughty list? Some of mine are. Like the ones that broke into my winter garden when I was away and destroyed my whole crop of peas. (Luckily for them, I don’t stay mad very long.)

Whether your hens have been good or bad, if you’re wondering what to give them for holidays, here’s a list of ideas to get you started for your adorable, yet often overlooked, part of the family.

Chicken Jumper

If you’re the creative sort, you can sew your chicken a polar fleece jumper or knit them one out of yarn.  Here’s some free instructions for the knit pattern that has been used for rescued battery hens (who have often lost their feathers and need to be kept warm).

Handmade Designer Jumper

Chicken Shawl

Maybe you don’t have enough time and energy to make your chickens each a sweater…I mean, it’s fairly likely you’ve got more than ONE hen in your flock and you wouldn’t want to play favorites, would you?

Here’s your faster solution: A chicken shawl! Here is the free pattern to get you started.

Stylish Chicken Shawl

Chicken Sweater (Crochet)

Can’t Knit? Don’t worry! Plum Creek Creations has a free pattern for you to crochet your chicken a sweater.

Chicken Sweater Crochet in Style

Chicken Diapers

You can also accessorize with chicken diapers. Yes, it’s true. And they come in many different colors! Don’t believe me? (I wouldn’t have either before the lady in the feed store told me about it.) Check out the selection here.  (Or, if you’re the DIY sort, you can make your own. Here’s some illustrated instructions from Backyard Chickens.)

Chicken diapers

When You Don’t Have Time to MAKE Anything…

Okay, so maybe you don’t have time to sew, knit or crochet your backyard flock a new wardrobe…but don’t despair! You have options!

Get those girls some Grubbies! This is actually a really great gift because they’re sustainably grown in the USA and they’re GOOD for your hens (a great source of protein and calcium). My girls are crazy for them. Check it out below:

Or, what about a Chicken Treat Ball? Simply fill the ball with fresh veggies or fruit and hang in the coop for your girls to enjoy.

Okay, this gift really isn’t for them, it’s for YOU, but you can justify it as a matter of their safety, right? A SLOW: Chickens at Play metal sign.

The truth is, I love my chickens, but I’m not shopping for them this season.  However, I might get a head of cabbage, drill a hole through it, and string it up in the chicken coop just above head level. This will give them something to entertain themselves with during the cold, rainy winter. They’ll get exercise jumping for it. And, they’ll get some fresh veggies at the same time. They’ll also be preoccupied with the new novelty and forget to be grumpy with each other for awhile. (If you’d like instructions for the cabbage treat, I have them here.)

Maybe the Best Gift of All

And, because chickens are so wonderful to have around, another great idea is to give the gift of CHICKENS to someone else. For 20 bucks you can give self-sufficiency to an impoverished family through the gift of a flock of chickens (which can provide food and money through eggs and/or meat). Check out Heifer International for more information.

Providing a flock of chickens to an impoverished family

Now that’s a gift I can get behind. And I think the girls would approve too!

    (Some links in this post might contain affiliate links. This means that if you follow the link and buy something, I will receive a few cents to help support this blog….but don’t worry! It doesn’t cost you any more and in some cases might even save you. Thanks for your support.)

  Gift Giving Ideas for Your Chickens… was originally posted by My Favorite Chicken Blogs(benjamingardening)

[michaelafashionmediablog-blog]

This Week in NYC

It was such a busy week in the city! From running around between uptown and downtown for my internship, to making it to all my classes on time, visiting with family, and still finding time for enough homework. Even with the weeks being so busy I try to fit in things for myself every week. Whether this be going to cozy coffee shops, new stores, or checking out one of the many art museums. I’m trying to take full advantage of having all of New York City at my fingertips!

This week I was able to find a collection of lifestyle and fashion trends that I think are really happening right now. Staying up-to-date on everything trendy is what so many New Yorkers try to achieve, and what I found this week was certainly in that category.

Embroidered Denim

It seems like everyone I know is buying old jeans from thrift stores and DIY embroidering them. This is such a huge trend right now, especially on denim, and many people have figured out how to do it at home, which certainly saves money, but also makes your style unique. I have even bought a pair of jeans and some thread that I just haven’t gotten around to tackling yet. I see this trend fading out by next season, but it is really fun now that it is here. It seems like the go-to embellishment has been flowers, but some people are getting really creative and adding cute feminist slogans like, “girls bite back,” or “GRL PWR.” This could certainly have started as an allusion to the traditions of women completing the embroidery work, and how such an activity has almost become a symbol of feminism. However it started, it has certainly stuck and can be seen all over the streets. Now every millennial who wishes they remembered the 90′s can live out that dream with their embroidered, high waisted distressed denim.  

Uniqlo Fridays at the MOMA

From now until the end of 2017 the MOMA is free on Friday evenings because of sponsoring from Uniqlo. This makes my poor little student heart sing! I went later in the evening so the lines wouldn’t be as long and there would be more room to wander around the exhibits. This was my first time at the MOMA and I was very impressed. There was a huge exhibit all about architect, Frank Lloyd Wright’s work. It gave me an eye opening experience about the process of architecture from concept to execution. The permanent exhibits were so lovely! I have always been very drawn to impressionism and I gasped out loud when I walked into the room containing one of Monet’s water lily panels. This museum is definitely going to be worth several visits since the few hours I had in one evening was not enough time to enjoy everything fully. 

Purl Soho

Purl Soho is a knitting and craft boutique in Soho. I have been following their blog, The Purl Bee, since high school when I started to become serious about knitting. Their focus on craft made, handspun yarns in interesting fibers and delicious colors really drew me to their work. They also have a collection of patterns and kits to help beginners get started on knitting, crocheting, needlepoint, and sewing projects. I could get lost in this store! There are so many colors and the yarn is so inviting that you just want to touch everything. My favorite thing about this store is that there is a display table with swatches of all of their yarns knit up in exactly 1 skein. This is so helpful because sometimes it’s hard to visualize how far 1 skein is going to get you, and it’s important to know your yardage when you are knitting garments so you make sure you buy enough of what you need. On top of this, when you purchase yarn they offer to wind it into a ball for you, which is so nice! Personally I find this part therapeutic to do on my own, but it is definitely a plus that I might take advantage of in the future. I have been to several yarn shops in New York City and this one is hands down my favorite. Although a bit pricey, their selection is just so good that I always just plug my ears and look the other way when handing over my credit card.  

Nike’s New Recycled Leather Shoe

Last week was New York Climate Week and Nike, a leader in sustainable innovation, has broken the mold one more time. Last week they released a brand new shoe made with a recycled, manufactured leather textile made from the scraps of traditional full-grain leather. Leather is famously bad for the environment and very wasteful since it creates a massive carbon footprint with the care of the animals, has ethical issues, and creates a lot of the waste as many times the animal hides are uneven and unusable for products that need a uniform production quality. Nike developed this textile they are calling FlyLeather to solve some of the issues around sustainability, while still giving consumers the leather look and feel they want. To produce the FlyLeather they grind up scraps of leather from previous production, then they bind that with high pressure water to a polyester screen. They also add some other materials for performance and treat the textile to make it more durable. The result is a leather look-alike that uses 90% less water to produce and is 5 times more durable. I see this as a great innovation to create better textiles, while not taking anything away from the consumers. Also I think that millennial audiences will be more inclined to buy this since they know it has a smaller carbon footprint than other leather shoes. Way to go Nike!

McNally Jackson Books

This week I was in need to a visit to a cozy bookstore where I could let my mind wander. Life has been pretty stressful lately and sometimes you just need to escape into a book utopia for an hour or so before getting back to the real world again. I stumbled upon McNally Jackson Books in Soho and am definitely going to be a regular to this place. They have everything you could imagine a Soho bookstore to have. The books are all divided by section. On the ground floor they have an extensive collection of cookbooks, art, design, photography, travel, fashion, and poetry books. They also have a few racks of fancier magazines that are beautiful to look at but cost around $20-$40 so are best to keep on the shelf instead of taking them home. Downstairs they have a huge children’s section complete with fun wall hangings and colorful displays. Their fiction section does not disappoint and they are sure to display the most popular books in the front. They also had a fiction section that was written in different languages. I feel like as Americans we often don’t think about this since many of us only know English, but New York has so many immigrants and tourists that it is definitely a great need here to offer books in many different languages. Besides all the books, they also have a coffee shop in store where you can grab your much needed caffeine before you browse. Another cool part is that they have a book press where you can publish your own small run or personal books. I didn’t look much into this since I had no need, but it would definitely be helpful to any artists or writers in the city who need to present their work professionally. This is marking top of my list for bookstores I have every been to!

Sources:

http://streetstyleplatform.us/post/158136000920/denim-jeans-with-details (denim photo)

http://www.asos.com/only/only-embroidered-denim-jacket/prd/7448096?iid=7448096 (denim photo)

https://qz.com/1080357/nikes-flyleather-tennis-classic-feels-like-premium-leather/ (Nike photo and story)

[dcnativegal]

Making friends

A big change from moving across the country is the loss of friends I’d been blessed to know for up to 45 years. Some of them I keep track of using Facebook. The non-Facebook-folk get a phone call now and again. I wish I were more of a phone conversationalist. Valerie has long elaborate conversations with her sister, sister-in-law, daughter, and nephew on an almost daily basis. Her son calls between classes at university and they immediately go into the philosophical underpinnings of medieval Europe. Beyond family, she talks to a handful of friends she’s met all over the world.

Like a lot of people, my partner is also my best friend. If I were single, I, a) wouldn’t have moved out here and b) I would be a whole lot lonelier.

One mustn’t put all one’s social capital in one basket, should one? No. Even partnered introverts benefit from one more soul with whom they can be relaxed. Right? I’m in need of ‘in person’ friends. So how do I make new friends? How does anybody?

Women who still have kids at home are busy. Women who are retired travel a lot.  Women who work full time are exhausted.  One of the obstacles I perceive is that I am an empty-nester and I’m still working, but only 3 days a week. I would love to find a friend who has no children at home, is a professional of some sort, and can meet for either coffee, breakfast, lunch or dinner once a month at least.

The professional part is optional. The meal out is optional too. SHE CAN EVEN HAVE A KID AT HOME.

So obviously I have criteria I am willing to abandon. Criteria are silly anyway. I would never have imagined being partners with a ranch hand ISTJ from Bly Oregon. I mean, seriously? Never. And she’s the best. The best for me right now, and for the past 6 years. And for no small reason because she is a blackbelt Alanon member.

Okay then.

One way to find potential friends is to meet lots of people.  Remember that Paisley has 250 residents, more or less. I joined the VIPs, the Volunteers in Paisley, and I’ve met a lot of generous, funny women there. Ages 30s to 80s. I looked around the table at our last meeting and realized I knew every woman’s name. I also joined the Paisley Community Church which is evangelical and not at all what I’m used to. Folks know me there, a little bit, too, although I feel lonelier after I’ve attended than if I skip it, so I may not be going much longer... you gotta give me credit for trying.

Okay, so join stuff. Check.

I have to tell you about the VIPs lovely tradition of ‘secret sister.’ At the Christmas meeting, everyone picks a piece of paper on which is written a VIP name along with things they like. I picked a gal who’s in her 90s and a remarkable painter. She is wild about roosters. So I’ve bought up every rooster thing I can find. We recognize the ‘sister’s’ birthday, then Mother’s Day, July fourth, and really any holiday, with a final present and big reveal on Christmas. When we pick a new sister. My ‘sister’ has been creative and thoughtful. Of course, I’ve gotten received yarn, but also a mug mentioning yarn, gorgeous flowers for Easter, and knitting needles. I’m really touched. Perhaps I will become friends with my secret sister. At least I know there is a thoughtful woman out here who is taking the time to make me feel special. It’s working!

Once I meet someone who seems interesting, I invite a potential friend to lunch or breakfast. I’ve had lovely conversations with a gal in paisley, 3 in Christmas valley, and 3 in Lakeview. I will keep reaching out to them. Hopefully, one or more will reach out to me, eventually. It takes time.

I’ve had enough therapy to know that if I do all the giving, all the contacting, all the reminding that “I’m still here!! Yoo hoo!”, then I begin to feel peckish. (Many of my metaphors are food related.)  Hungry to know that someone is thinking of me and wishes to be in my company.  Either folks will reach out to me eventually, or I’ll know we will be friendly acquaintances. Which is fine, too.

One thing that is emotionally tiring about moving cross country is the feeling of not being known. No one knows my history, my backstory, my wounds that are healed over and the wounds that still ache. Except Valerie. When my kids were visiting here, I realized as we took them back to the airport, that I missed them AND I missed being known.

The person who might know me best of all, besides my beloved, brilliant and beautiful sister Elizabeth, and the most excellent, adorable and delicious Valerie, is the therapist I left behind. She was in the process of retiring when I moved out here, but she’s taken two of my calls and thank god/ess for phone therapy. She told me that she was fine with being a resource for me since I moved here. Sometimes she feels like the magnet at the top of the world who is my true north. She is not infallible, but darn close. I started seeing her when I was 40 years old. I sent a friend to her once and this friend called her The Wizard.

So what do I have to offer a potential friend?

I can be pretty entertaining. Hilarious, even. I am a really good listener.  I do interesting work and to a certain point I can share generalized anonymized stories about my dear substance users and foster kid clients, but only to an extent. I can tell hospice and dementia stories all day long since they are either a) dead or b) can’t remember me. I can tell other stories, too. I can talk politics if the person is progressive. If they aren’t, I KNOW there are other values we share. Knitting? I’ll teach. Crochet? I’ll teach!

I’ve been broken, but grown strong in the broken places, to paraphrase Ernest Hemingway. I bond best to people who have grown strong in the broken places.

Downsides: I can’t cook, I drop the f bomb at inopportune times, and let’s see what else... I can be loquacious if I’ve had a great deal of coffee. If you are an introvert, you might just need a nap after our tete a tete.

I hope my being queer isn’t confusing to straight women, who are the women that are in Lake County, near as I can discern. Most straight women are cool. But if they haven’t met a lot of gay women, they might not know about ‘butch’ and ‘femme.’  The women I choose to be friends with are almost always femmes. Which means, even if you are cute as a bug’s ear, I will not have a crush on you, nor will I hit on you EVER (oh Lord I don’t even know how… gawd…).  So relax.  I can be friends with a straight guy, or a butch woman, but it’s less likely, for similar reasons. Gay men are perfect candidates for friends, and I do have the pleasure of knowing and loving Valerie’s first husband and HIS husband, who live in Eugene. They are the older brothers I never had.

I’ve met a wonderful gay man in this county who I’d love to be good friends with. Alas, he is married with three children and works full time. There goes that idea.

There are lesbians in Klamath County. We are getting to know them very slowly, because, we are 3 hours away more or less. Lesbians make wonderful friends. I’m still looking for them in Lake County. I have met a ‘hasbian” in North Lake County: a woman who once identified as lesbian who is now with a man. She’s probably bisexual. We shall see.

I do not want to make friends with someone who thinks I will go to hell when I die, because I’m gay. And it’s hard to tell who thinks that around here. But, no. Seriously. No. I think the feeling is mutual. So that’s not a problem.

I wonder if I send forth a slight off-putting vibe. I hope not.  I’m an extrovert, but I’m also used to feeling slightly on the outside looking in. I think a lot of people feel that way. Perhaps most.  I went to 4 different elementary schools growing up, one junior high, and 2 high schools, all in Washington DC. I was the new kid a bunch of different times. I know this experience isn’t new for, say, army brats. But, at least everyone else on the base is in the same boat, so to speak. Breaking into a friendship circle is tricky business, no matter how old you are.  New people don’t know they need you, yet.

With my clients, who are either teenagers or adults with a substance use disorder, making friendships that are healthy, mutual, and sustaining is a deep need. Making sober friends when the old ones used meth, too, is a crucial part of recovery. Making at least one friend in high school makes the difference between it being hell and tolerable. It takes time. And skill. It comes up in counseling quite a bit.

I do have two friends whom I met because they are Valerie’s friends. They are long married and very kind. One of the husbands told me recently that I should just be myself, and people will find me. That is very reassuring. (Thanks, Al.)

I had a friend named Cynthia, once. I met her while waiting for a bus. The bus was very late, so we started chatting. She had long silver hair, with bangs, and wore a cape.  I was in my late 20s and she was, it turned out, in her early 60s. We lived only 3 blocks away from each other. We must have exchanged phone numbers. Our thing was tea: we had tea in her huge apartment on 16th street, in one of the grand old buildings. We’d talk about her life, and mine. She had a son who was married and lived in Indiana. She had another son, who was gay (still gay, and a friend on facebook!) and an artist. Her husband was a retired union organizer. She was an artist using textiles, and I knit and crochet. So we had fun. Over tea.

She would send me postcards, with a thought on it. Even though I saw her frequently. And lived 3 blocks away.

I introduced her to my church. She joined and enjoyed it very much. She embroidered the banner for my wedding to our children’s father. I still have it.

She’d had cancer before I knew her, and it came back. I was a cancer social worker at a university hospital at the time. She made the difficult decision to reject chemotherapy, knowing it would just delay the inevitable. I told her about hospice care, how early it can start, how much freedom she’d have. So she chose home hospice. She lived a full life for about 2 months. And then the cancer grew into her bowel and obstructed it. She was admitted to the inpatient hospice over in the wealthy part of town, a gorgeous facility at the time. I visited her several times that first week. She had a nasogastric tube down through her nose, since nothing would stay down and would need to come up, even saliva. She requested the fanciest Italian sorbet we could find. Down and up it would go.

Into the second week, she told me that she’d talked to her son in Indiana and that he was coming to visit in about 3 weeks. I couldn’t help it: my face showed surprise and concern, wordlessly. She looked at me, and said quietly, He should come sooner? And so he did.

I visited a last time. She could no longer speak. But she smiled and reached for my hand. She looked like love itself.

She was a wonderful friend, and I think I was a good friend to her.

I’d like another friend like Cynthia. Who doesn’t die so soon.

[annemeredithjohnson-blog]

How to Afford Ethical Shopping on a College Budget

If you know me you know that I do my best to make ethical choices in all aspects of my life and firmly believe in the concept of thinking of every dollar I spend as an endorsement of my beliefs and values. I work hard (really hard) for the money that I earn and I want to use it, not only to treat myself every so often, but to make the world a bit of a better place, or at least not a worse one. This is reflected in lots of aspects of my life, such as being vegan and using ethically made cosmetics, but one of the aspects that some of my real life friends often ask me about and one that I think is the hardest when resources are limited, is fashion. I love clothes and fashion so much and I always feel best when I’m dressed well, but I no longer shop at places like H&M, Forever21, or sketchy online shops where you can get trendy pieces for dirt cheap. This is so tempting and the market, especially for clothes made for young women, is so saturated with these clothes that contribute to so much suffering overseas and damage to the environment. Here are some ways I make it work in my budget to shop ethically.

Best loved tee-shirt dress, thrifted jacket, handmade necklace 

Buy Pre-Loved Clothing

This is tough for me because my style is very sleek and modern and I tend not to really connect with a lot of stuff in vintage shops or thrift stores. If this isn’t true for you, enjoy the wonders of traditional thrifting and count me as jealous! If this is true for you things I’ve done to get around this are shopping apps like depop or buying/trading clothes straight from my friends with a similar style, buying very specific vintage items that I seek out at places like etsy (I recently scored an amazing pair of redone vintage levi’s shorts), and shopping at places like crossroads or buffalo exchange that carry more current secondhand pieces. Shopping secondhand means that you get new, beautiful clothes but no new clothes need to actually be produced in sweatshops and that piece of clothing gets a new life and gets to be worn many more times. Places like crossroads are also a great place to bring your old clothes instead of throwing them away, and you get some money toward new things!

Buy fewer better items:

I invest in my clothes when I buy them new. I own a lot fewer clothes than many of my peers and every piece has a higher price tag than the stuff you would find at Forever21 and there’s really no getting around this if your goal is to support a healthy planet and working conditions for people all over the world. There are other benefits to having fewer clothes as well, but I’ll save those for a future post. Better quality items will also last you longer, making them more affordable and sustainable in the long run. Some of the mid-range price point brands that I love for ethical clothing are Everlane (my number one, except for their leather stuff obvi), the soon-to-launch Girlfriend Collective, and Prana- which is definitely not just for yoga clothes!

Buy handmade/make clothes:

I am not handy at all (I repeat: at all) but if you are it is a great idea to try your hand at knitting, sewing, or crocheting your own clothes. The word on the street is that some people even really enjoy this. The way I get around my ineptitude at anything crafty is buying from places like etsy or local artisans who hand make clothes. Sometimes this can be really spendy, but if you look carefully or support your friend’s and family’s hobby, it can be super affordable and it’s really cool having something that you know is one of a kind and was made with love.

Make the clothes you currently own last as long as possible:

This isn’t shopping, obviously but as the queen of ethical fashion herself, Emma Watson, tells us, you have to wear each article of clothing you own 30 times for your closet to be environmentally sustainable. 30 wears didn’t seem that daunting to me until I really thought about it- I mean, there are only so many days in a season until they roll out the new trends or the weather changes. This goes back to owning fewer clothes, but it’s also important to wash your clothes infrequently and carefully and maybe even try your hand at mending for clothes yourself (even I have done this with a certain amount of success, so I have faith in you) in order to have an ethical closet. I think a lot of people think that as soon as they decide to change their shopping habits they should throw away all of their old, unethical clothing. Obviously, this is hugely unaffordable but it’s also unhealthy for the environment. So just keep rocking what you’ve got until you can’t anymore!

Making ethical decisions with what you spend your money on is hard and it can be expensive. Especially when you make no money at your retail job or are living off of student loans, it can feel impossible to shop at all. I hope these tips help you or encourage you to take the step to stop supporting fast fashion brands and start making choices when it comes to your closet that reflect your values.