#and she and I started zoom therapy a month or two ago

[hiddenbysuccubi]

.

[taavisplushies]

Diego! + a lil health update below the cut :)

TLDR: CT scan soon, maybe surgery? POTS is getting worse. No more physical therapy for my wrist. My ankle is messed up, I can't walk properly anymore. Endometriosis has been relatively peaceful... And I start therapy for my brain on Monday!

🩵🧸

Getting a CT scan on Halloween night. Hopefully that will show something and I'll know whether or not I need another surgery!

My POTS has been getting worse still, ever since surgery in July. Been fainting a lot. Feel like crap all the time. Waiting to see cardiologist until after I know what's going on regarding the CT scan.

Physical therapy is over. (Insurance won't cover any more sessions.) My wrist still bothers me a lot. Can't really use a pencil yet. Gonna continue exercises at home for a while to see if it ever improves.

Ankle has been getting worse steadily since summer, and it gives out a lot. I now walk on the side of my foot instead of the bottom. Bracing hasn't really helped. Might need to see my ankle doctor... (I suffered an OCD lesion in my ankle after being abused in a mental hospital a long time ago. I did have the first surgery and it went well. I don't want the second surgery unless I truly need it.)

Endometriosis has been surprisingly calm??? I still have daily pain in my belly, hip, back, and leg... But it's bearable as long as I don't move around too much. :) I did however have my first period in YEARS a week or two ago, which made it super bad. The period is actually why I was in the hospital! Period only lasted 8 days but the pain was horrible. My previous period lasted 9 months, so I was very happy to have a much shorter one this time. I'm really hoping my next one doesn't put me in the hospital though.

I start therapy on Monday!!! I am very nervous. It's virtual therapy like a FaceTime or Zoom call. There are no therapists for me in my area so that's why it's virtual. She specializes in BPD according to her website! So I'm really hoping she can help me. Usually therapists just give up after a session or two, because my emotions are too extreme lol. Or they just tell me I'm autistic so they can't help smh. I filled out the paperwork and there was a section about physical chronic illnesses and pain! So I wonder if she could help me process like the grief that comes with that stuff? Y'know what I mean? Like grieving a life I used to live before I got sick.

Yay thank you for reading if you did! It's okay if you didn't read it though :) I mostly did this to get my thoughts out. Like a journal!

[crazymisscarly]

The Exoneration: Chapter 9 Preview

People who like my most recent story ‘The Exoneration’ - this preview is for you.

Present Day

Jughead’s new therapist/marriage counselor certainly had a lot of opinions on how he should deal with life on the outside.

The problem was, a lot of those opinions revolved around writing, and Jughead’s complete lack of doing so for a solid two years. Though Jughead had never considered writing letters to his elementary school aged children ‘writing’ in the same way writing a novel was, Ms White latched onto it as his apparently greatest coping mechanism.

Jughead may have been more on board with this ‘coping mechanism’ if he wasn’t expected to share everything he wrote with Betty.

He’d never had an issue sharing his writing with Betty, especially if said writing was a new chapter or a creative concept. Jughead had never written journal entries; he’d ponder his own life experiences and then try to translate those thoughts into art. But now… Ms White wanted him to write exactly how he felt. She wanted him to detail every painful moment of his day, and every distressing thought that made its way fleetingly across his subconscious. 

“Write down the three most significant moments of your day,” she’d urged him over their most recent Zoom therapy session. “In your next session with Betty, we can unpack them together.”

Jughead didn’t expect it to be easy. But he hadn’t anticipated just how hard it would be to admit to Betty, let alone himself, how… not okay he was, even though they were in Woodgate with their kids and far away from New York – the threat of incarceration now a dull, aching memory.

What was he supposed to start with? Maybe he could knuckle down with: Dear Journal, and Dear Betty who is reading this journal, and Dear Ms White who is wearing corduroy while she reads this journal, Hinton still won’t make eye contact with me and I’m starting to think there’s some deep rooted issues there… and I know those issues are my fault.

Or he could go the happier route, and start writing: None of the kids seem particularly enthused about me being back in their lives. Except for Lysandra, who met me three days ago, and doesn’t seem to ever want to stop talking about me. So… progress?

Perhaps the most significant part of Day One in Woodgate would be: I didn’t realize you could make the door talk to you when you walked up to it. Is it the chirpy wannabe Alexa speaking through the miniature tv screen where the peephole should be? Did technology really advance that much in six years? How did the door figure out how to recognize my face within three hours of me walking through it? And when did thumbprint scanners become a regular feature in suburban households? 

Of course, those questions were already answered before he’d even sat down to write in his empty black journal (Jughead was only mildly disappointed that it wasn’t bound with faux corduroy). Betty’s house, which she’d purchased six months after winning her lawsuit against the FBI and had completely paid off, was apparently a ‘Smart Home’ that was equipped with security measures so high-tech that they bordered on science fiction. Betty merely had to ask the front door to lock all the windows and close the shutters downstairs; of course, if she didn’t feel like walking all the way down the staircase then she could just request that her phone communicated her wishes with the front door. It was absolutely wild. 

Wilder still was the fact that this was apparently normal, according to Harper. Not just for their house, but for 80% of American households. Riverdale’s general decor and vibe had always been more of a relic of the 1960s than anyone wanted to openly admit, but Jughead knew for a fact that the town wasn’t so technologically disadvantaged that the average household was ill equipped for the real world; presumably that meant Riverdale, too, would have talking doors and lights that turned off on vocal commands. Apparently, even FP had a talking door in Toledo if Alaska’s cautious explanation of the thing was to be believed. 

Jughead didn’t feel like he was finally coming home; he felt like he was beamed up into an alien spaceship.

[dippyface]

Told my therapist I was doing better and she was like "so you wanna quit therapy or what?" and I was like "I hate this woman. It's been one session that I said I was doing good." To be fair I had not seen her in like 2-3 months bc of scheduling conflicts and zoom problems and her apparently never wanting to see my ass again. so she probably concluded therapy was doing me more harm than good. which is to be debated. but I'm like two months into doing better with my lunatic PTSD that started 2.5 years ago

[indomitable-ace-of-hearts]

I don't know how long ago I made the decision. Maybe it was 2 months ago? Maybe 3? But I finally decided it was time to try and wean off my antidepressants.

There is a worrying voice in the back of my mind that keeps telling me I may need to be on it for long term. And I've had to sit with myself in that uncomfortable space processing the reason why almost daily. Had to think through the why's of getting off of them. And of why I went on them to begin with.

Especially as I am now starting to really notice a difference in my thought patterns. My moods. And my body's physical state.

I was always resistant to the idea of going on medication.

I believed I didn't really need it. That if I could just work through my problems with a therapist I should be fine. In fact, I have to remind myself sometimes that the plan was never to stay on it forever.

3 years ago I could feel when my mental state was starting to unraveling and immediately went into survival mode in applying everything I had learned at that point to stem the spiral. Even my therapist could see it as she worked with me to try everything ELSE first before even going down a medicated path.

And she had been there for years helping me pick up the pieces when I went through the divorce. I had been making great progress. Had found a great job. I was working out again and losing weight. Things were picking up! Until it wasn't. Covid hit. Xavi struggled with school. I was still learning to navigate single-momhood with a two year old. And then my amazing boss left and the job turned into a psychological hell of unrealistic expectations with needlessly high-pressured demands and no reward.

Before I made the difficult choice to start taking an SSRI, we worked on everything else for nearly a full year. I went to the doctor to get my vitamin levels checked to address feelings of exhaustion (Vitamin D and Iron).

I worked hard on making sure I remembered eating. Did everything I could to drink water (gross) and sleep 8 hours a day. I increased my monthly therapy sessions to bi-weekly and tried to keep up with taekwondo. And through it all, I tried very hard to make sure I addressed it in the workplace. Spoke to HR and let them know on a surface level what was going on from a medical standpoint and asking for some advice. Openly making sure my supervisors were aware of what I needed to keep working at the quality level they were used to me delivering on and seeing if I can get some support or help. But I was just too good at what I did. And no one wanted to do the work. And no one wanted to give help the way I needed it to be given. And no one really knew how. And I realized that the only person who could help me was, once again. Me. But I was falling apart in my stubbornness of not giving up. Of pushing through even though the environment I was in was so toxic even my Therapist was telling me to quit without telling me to quit. And there was even a point near the end when I was beginning to shut down and mentally crashing that I was ganged up on virtually by 3 supervisors asking me to talk. Even now I can't remember anything outside of the feeling of fear, pressure, panic, and confusion and darkness. I kept the zoom video off so they couldn't see I was hiding under a blanket. Or that my head was laying on the desk next to the keyboard as I spoke. Could barely motivate myself to speak through the headset mic. But I wanted to do everything I could to make things work. I wanted to make the spiral stop and make sure it wasn't a "me" thing. And so I decided to start medication. 3 years. And I won't say that it was the best or worst choice I've ever made. But it was a choice that helped me when I needed it most. And now I feel like it's time to take the next step in healing by starting what is going to be a very long, and challenging, mental journey back off my antidepressant. And it is a journey that no one can help with outside of just being present, patient, compassionate, and empathetic. I am already feeling the highs be a bit higher than usual, and the lows going a bit lower. The extremes are starting to come back. After being on a 20 mg Escitalopram for so long (which I have safely dropped to 10 mg a month or two ago - and am now trying to taper to 5 mg as of two weeks or so ago), I recognize what is happening. I am hoping that I can be fully off the meds by the start of the new year. Even if right now I need to re-learn how to regulate from those extremes. I've already been having an internal battle as I also wish to get my physical body and a healthy level of metabolism back. For competing and for getting my weight back to where it should be for my age and body type. And if I ever see myself having kids in the future... I am worried about the discontinuation symptoms (ADS) that I sense on the horizon. Right now I can't tell 100% if some of what I've been feeling these past few weeks are that or just from pushing myself hard in TKD class/work. The slight mental haziness. The fatigue. The muscle aches. Slight headaches. The increased anxiety. The insomnia. And so in the meantime, I'll need to do what I did before.

Cut alcohol and severely limit caffeine.

Go to bed by 9 or 10 pm and shut off my phone.

Limit TV time.

Stick to my workout and TKD schedule.

Formally take days off work and put breaks on my calendar.

Hang out in healthy environments and with people (even when I don't really feel like being around people).

I already do this mildly, but the risk comes from giving in to doing the opposite. Thankful that I have also been able to stay with my therapist - albeit virtually. I'm sure she'll be able to catch any stark differences and be a person I can talk to out loud about things. I have no regrets, but man. I do have a healthy dose of fear. But I am trusting myself through this and know I was able to make it out alive from everything else I've been through. I got this.

[redhead-writes]

What I am gonna do Part 1

Summary: When everything has been ruined and fallen in rubles around you, or at least it seems so. When all hope has been lost and there is no way out of hell. Is there a way to end all this pain? Is there a way to shake off the dust and start building something new? Angst simply was angsting in my brain so had to put it all out.

Can also read it on AO3.

Suna was sitting on the dark beach. Once looking out on the water calmed her down.  Night was covering her inner turmoil, pain and tears that haven’t stopped coming. She had put phone and two letters in a plastic bag and put a stone on it, so the sand and wind couldn't get to stuff. Not like anyone will call her or look for her. Her body felt so heavy and full with pain from the beating she had gotten once again.

“Once again all alone.” whispered Suna, dusting sand off the clothes she was wearing. “At least hell won’t be as bad as this living world. That is all I want. Some peace.”

Suna looked out on the sea once again. She always loved to be by it. Picking up prettiest seashells and creating art with it til even those art pieces got broken. One more deep breath, careful slash on one wrist, another deep breath and another slash on the other wrist. Tonight the sea was quiet enough that Suna could hear the drops hitting the sand. 

“Prove them that you are brave, Suna, prove yourself that you can do it.” she encouraged herself to take each step closer to the water line. Soon enough Suna was in water till her shoulders. 

“Just float away, Suna, like they all want you to.”

She layed on the back, allowing the sea to carry wherever it thought fit. She looked at the sky for some time, admiring the stars but her eyelids grew heavy. After sight also the hearing switched off. The darkness came as a relief to a woman who has been left by everyone in her life. 

*****

Kaya was working in his little studio on Sehmuz’s property. He had moved here a month ago by his mothers request after she had heard that Suna wanted divorce. Of course, Nükhet had told Kaya how she was right about the girl. But the thing was no one knew Suna. Even he was wrong in his assumptions about who she is or what she needed. 

That is the reason why he allowed her to walk away this last time. It was her free will decision and he allowed her that out. Just to prove to her and himself that he stood by what he promised her when he proposed to her second time. 

Yes, it has hit him hard and today receiving divorce papers from his lawyer. That he signed to give his wife the freedom that she deserves. After that they were sent to Suna. Probably she was now celebrating being a free woman. He had the itch under his skin to reach for the bottle and numb the pain that was raging in his soul. It was also the reason why his mom asked him to move here. The mansion was nice, Sehmuz was nice enough to give him this little house as a studio for his projects. Kaya really liked it here and Sehmuz wasn’t that bad, and he treated Nükhet well.  

“NO! I am stronger than that. I have a collection to finish.” Kaya reminded himself. “Tomorrow I will have a call with a therapist. Will talk through these emotions.”

Kaya had picked up therapy sessions back up with his previous doctor. Thank God for the zoom because he couldn’t imagine telling it all again to another person. It was bad enough one time but he knows he will need to work on that too sometime in the future. He wants to go back to work when there is a knock on his door. 

“Come in!” Kaya calls out to see worried Sehmuz in the doors. “SEHMUZ! Did something to mom?”

“No, no. Everything is alright with your mother. She is asleep in her bedroom.”

“Then what? You look quite worried.”

“I am only about you.”

“Why about me?” asked Kaya, lifting up one of his eyebrows. 

“Because I saw how singing those papers again pushed you on the bad side. You straight up left the house to work here. Usually, it is a sign that something is weighing you down. So I don’t want to mention that woman's name if there is a possibility you will get triggered.”

“Oh wow, you really have me down well. I promise you, I won’t be triggered if you mention Suna. So what about her?”

“Her younger sister called asking for you. I told her that you are not available to talk but she can rely her message to me. She wanted to know if you had seen her sister because they had this big family dinner and Suna didn’t show up. To which I answered that no, we haven’t seen Suna and that she for sure wouldn’t come to our house.” Sehmuz told him slowly, taking notice of any differences in Kaya’s facial expressions. They didn’t change even one bit. 

“That was the right answer. Suna even doesn’t know where I live now. I haven’t spoken to her in a month. Seyran must have been really desperate to call us.” Kaya voiced his opinion. Of course, there was worry in his heart. Suna would never miss family dinner. It got beaten into her, quite literally. Always the perfect face and manners when the situation needed that from her. 

“You are making that face I don’t like. She is not your business anymore, Kaya. You both made that choice today. Don’t allow that girl to control your life once again.”

“I am not allowing her to control my life. Worrying just a normal amount. As for a person that was close to me. Let’s go back to the house. I won’t be able to work anymore either way.”

“Let’s go! But next time I will want to see some pieces of the collection.”

“Those I will show when the whole collection is finished.” 

Kaya had left his phone in the mansion. He didn’t get a lot of calls either way. Only some friends from London, calling him to offer jobs but he wanted to work for himself. His therapist also called and the  lawyer too. No one else. First week he expected Suna to call but nothing came of it. 

They reached the house and Kaya picked up his phone that showed him a lot of notifications, but as a red alert button between all of it stood a text from Suna. 

All it said was ‘I’m sorry’. It made Kaya’s heart beat in worry even more. Something was not right. He could feel it. 

“Sehmuz, could you ask your men to call all hospitals and morgues in Istanbul?”

“Why would you need that Kaya?”

As an answer Kaya showed him Suna's text. 

“You don’t think she…” the older man couldn’t even finish the sentence. Kaya simply nodded, putting his head in his hands. The girl was so young, she had all the reasons to live her life. At least that is what he could see from the side. But he saw her just a few times.They all have been judging this girl so hard but they even didn’t know her story. Sehmuz had seen what that family could do to his wife and stepson. And there was more than one family with conservative views on life. Made him shudder to even think about it. He trusted Kaya’s ability to think straight about it. So Sehmuz started making calls to his men and to hospitals himself. 

All the while Kaya reached out to his lawyer asking if Suna had signed the papers but the woman wasn’t at home. Lawyer had followed instructions from Kaya not to give documents to anyone else in that house.

“Destroy them.”

“Kaya? What has happened?”

“Suna sent me a text that says she is sorry. I don’t have a good feeling about it, Yaman. So if the worst of my predictions come true, I want to be sure that Suna gets the best care.”

“I will destroy them. You call me when you get new information. If what you told me about her family is so close to the truth, you will need all the help.”

“Thank you, friend!”

Sehmuz walked back into the room with the phone already on speaker. Kaya had put his own down, raising one of the eyebrows at Sehmuz.

“I think we have found Suna. Çan, tell Kaya what you told me.”

“Yes, boss. So there's this woman that they found washed out on some beach without papers but she had this silvery leaf ring on necklace. It is too unique to be any other ring. Police is here. They found a plastic bag with a phone and two letters on the beach, too. One of the letters is addressed to Kaya and the other one to Nükhet.”

Kaya’s heart was beating in his chest so hard, but he had to ask: “Is the woman alive?”

“Yeah, she is. They are not allowing me to get in the room or else I would have sent you a picture.”

“You can tell the police to try the phone code 7887.” voiced Kaya whose heart had calmed down a bit. Suna was alive. In hospital but alive. That is all that mattered. 

“It unlocked the phone.”

“Wait for us there and don’t let anyone from Şanli or Korhan family get to her.” stated Sehmuz, ushering Kaya out of the doors and into the car. Nükhet has the best caregivers and guards. His stepson needs him and he won’t let him down. 

They reached the hospital as fast as they could. Kaya seemed to keep a calm demeanor but he could see the emotions just boiling but not spilling over. The younger man knew he had to keep it together.

“Boss, here!” called out the now familiar voice. There were police officers and doctors conversing with each other.

“Hello! I’m Kaya Sönmez. Possibly the husband of the Jane Doe you have here. Can you tell me what happened?”

“Hello! I’m the case leading inspector. From what we have gathered the couple walking their dog found your wife on the beach without any signs of life, dressed in what seemed to be a wedding dress.” The older man told him, holding up the plastic bag. Kaya would recognize that dress anywhere. Sehmuz also took a deep breath next to Kaya. “I see that both of you recognized the dress. But to continue my story, the man tried the pulse, it was faint but there. They called for an ambulance. So she is here. Doctor tells me that she is on the edge right now. She lost a lot of blood from cuts on her wrists but cold water in the sea kept the blood flow slow. So you could say cold water saved her. The woman also had other bruises on her that could not be explained by the circumstances she was found in. Do you have any idea why your wife was there?”

Suna had tried to commit a suicide. She once said to Kaya that she wouldn’t be able to go through it a third time but this time it was her own choice. His wife chose to do it. He will think about it another time. Inspector was waiting for the answer.

“Me and Suna have been on a little month-long break from each other. She went back to her parents house. I have few ideas of why my wife was brought to that state, to choose the choice she made. But if I say them out loud, you will say I am accusing people without evidence, Inspector. I would like to see my wife now.” answered Kaya, keeping his cool because he really had only two families in his mind who could have brought his wife to such a state.

“Of course. This doctor will take you, but stay in touch.”

“You will be able to find me here, if you need me. I am not gonna leave my wife's bedside till she gets better.”

While the doctor was leading them upstairs to Suna’s room, he called Yaman to get a private investigator on this case and to prepare papers that Kaya can take care of Suna without her family finding a loophole. Kaya also called his therapist to ask for advice to get the best therapist for Suna in Turkey. He knew that she would need to pass a wellness check and go through some rehab but better have it happen privately. Suna already will be embarrassed enough. 

“We are here. Today I would ask you not to worry here, let her body heal. Tomorrow I will allow you inside.” doctor told them and disappeared. While Kaya couldn’t take his eyes away from the woman in the hospital bed. Suna looked white as a sheet of paper and thinner than he remembered her being. Both her wrist bandaged, hiding the cuts she must have made herself but what stood out about it all was the blue bruising on the right side of Suna’s face. How did she hide it? Did no one notice?

“I will kill that man! I will kill him!” Kaya was raging, taking in more and more cuts and bruises on his wife's body. Did she really think no one would save her? Did she think that Kaya would not answer the phone? “Do you see, Sehmuz, what they did to her?”

“I can see that.” Sehmuz said, squeezing Kaya’s shoulder in support. There was no life spot on the girl from what he could see. It felt like she was kicked over and over again. He was afraid to think what the hospital gown and duvet was hiding. “Your anger won’t do you or her any good right now. My boys will help your investigator. But you have to take care of yourself and her right now. I can see that you still care about her even after everything.”

“It is not easy to rip love out of your heart. Also my therapist said that my mistrust could be the reason why she wanted to pull away. I showed her support that already was weird for her but then I would turn around and be cold. It really messed it up for us.”

“Don’t blame yourself or your trauma only. She has even deeper scars than you and possibly the healing you started has been ruined.”

“Go home. I will stay here.”

“Ok, but you call me if anything changes. Çan will also stay here with you. If her family finds out where she is.”

“Alright!”

[nadiagreenspan]

Zoom Psychotherapy

I started working with Nadia two years ago when I moved to Evanston for graduate school. I was in therapy as an undergrad for anxiety, and it helped at a time, but I didn’t want to continue with my old therapist who was assigned to me from a student counseling center - I wanted to choose my own. I interviewed four different people and got the feeling that Nadia really SAW me - she asked me just the right kind of questions that made me think long after our initial fifteen minute Zoom call. She was also the only white therapist who actually asked me what it would be like to work with a “white lady” as a biracial person without giving me a speech or reassuring me of how “woke" she was first. I started seeing slow changes in myself and my life after working with Nadia for about six months, some “conscious competence” stuff started coming through in how I show up and see myself, and I noticed that Nadia’s voice is in head a lot more than the judging voice that’s always been there before. Zoom Psychotherapy

[spiked-tea-writing]

and they were roommates?!

SapnapxFem!Reader

Summary: Imagine being in love with your roommate, couldn't be you.

Pronouns: She/her

Warning: Swearing

Word Count: 2.3k

A/n: I don’t watch or know anything, I just like these people and I had a concept. Also, he and Dream aren’t roommates in this for the sake of I can’t figure that out. Also also, my timeline is probably fucked but who cares

The dynamic in the apartment was...interesting to say the least

In the two years of living together, it had shifted a lot

In the beginning, you and Sapnap had been... less than cordial to each other

Both eighteen, fresh out of high school, off to college thinking that you knew everything.

There was lots of fighting, to say the least.

All of the “No it’s your turn to vacuum”, and “I swear to god Sapnap I will punt you halfway across the world if you eat my pineapple again”

The only reason you didn’t slit each other’s throats was that if the other person was dead, who would pay rent?

It was the summer before college started at the time, and you were working long hours minimum wage so coming]’/ home to an annoying prick caused a crap ton of conflict

After a few months of being little bitches to each other, y’all got piss drunk in the apartment and it all just sorta fell apart

Got that good drunk therapy, spilling your deepest secrets

(y’all were underage but shhh)

So by the time college started, the two of you had become actual friends and started enjoying each others company

A few months into the friendship, you encouraged him to post the video of “Minecraft, but it’s Raining Cats and Dogs” on a whim

Lmao little did you know what you had created (we’ll get to that later)

You mocked his train of thought constantly, laughing at the timing of it all.

“Ahhh yes, I am Sapnap, the genius who thought it’d be great to become a YouTuber while in my first year of college.”

He’d always just laugh and roll his eyes, playfully shoving you while stealing your chips.

The next few months were a haze of studying, work, and him.

It was truly a friendship of convenience since you guys were so busy, him starting his youtube career, and you working restaurants, then school on top of that, it was just easy to find friendship in your roommate.

Of course, he had his close friends which he spoke to over the internet, and you had your friends from back home, but as for college, it really was only him.

You guys had a fun time just hanging around the apartment, and it became so easy to be friends with him

And it WAS truly platonic (we’ll get back to that as well)

The best thing he brought to the friendship was his animals

You got on fabulously with Cash and the cats

They were all so cuddly and honestly loved you more than him lmao

You guys were just trying to get degrees and not be too stupid, was that too much to ask???

Well to a certain 2020, it was

The beginning of that year was great.

He was sorta realizing that he liked putting himself on social media, but on top of that, it seemed like a great start to a year.

February brought him to twitch, which you loved

You found it hilarious how he would just sorta play games and have people watch him live.

But you were incredibly supportive, as a friend, of course

He really liked it so, you tried to ignore the shouting at three am, and the loud anthems at night

Sure you’d give him hell in the morning, but why kill his fun?

March started great, as it was his birthday.

You got him a glittery lighter as a gag, but it was the perfect gift for a broke-ass college student

Then a certain pandemic came a-knockin’ on y’all’s door

It was a hard hit on both of you.

An executive decision was made that you two would stay put, but being away from your families was incredibly tough.

That spring was the birth of The SMP.

It brought him so much joy, which in turn made you happier.

The rest of the school year was a blur of zooms and test

Nick nearly killed you on multiple occasions when you made fun of the fact that he was learning computer science over the computer or made him help you figure out what the fuck zoom was since it was tangentially related to his major

“SAP HELP ME YOU SHOULD KNOW THIS ITS YOUR FUCKING MAJOR!!!”

“NO, IT’S- AHHHHHHHHH”

Yall got more than a handful of noise complaints shhhh

That summer was fill was spent trying to fill the time in weird ways

Note to self, he can’t cook (which you learned the hard way)

Yall spent so much time trying to cook and bake, then sweating off the calories working out with The Fitness Marshall lmao

As sucky as the situation was, that summer was so incredibly fun for the both of you, and truthfully the only arguments were about what music to blast

“Y/n I swear if I listen to Cosmicandy one more time I will drown you.”

“Well if I hear American Idiot one more time someone’s knee caps are getting harvested.”

(that argument was settled with Elton John.)

When school started up again that fall, something shifted

After a year of actual friendship, you guys were no longer just friends, and the tension was so thick it could be cut with a knife

You had watched every single one of his streams since day one, but within 2 seconds of his Love or Host, you felt the need to hurl for some peculiar reason

It was bizarre because there was no way you could ever like him, of course not.

Within the apartment, you guys suddenly got a lot more touchy, but only because it was getting cold with winter and all that jazz.

It wasn’t because yall were secretly in love, what is this, a romcom?

The number of times you guys woke up on the couch, definitely not cuddling was too many to count

You started sitting in his room while he streamed, definitely not watching him with heart eyes because of how excited he got

He always had a pot of coffee full and a 6-pack of monster in the fridge since he knew you ran on spite and caffeine, and definitely not so that he could spend more time with you in the early hours of the morning.

The laundry started getting all mixed around, resulting in just sharing any sweats, hoodies, or socks.

The same thing went for food.

No longer was anything labeled with a name, if it was in the fridge, it was fair game (unless there was a post-it because come on, yall weren’t monsters)

But no, y’all were just roommates, not dating, lets make that clear.

Feelings? We don’t know her.

This entire time, his friends have had to hear about you rip.

But they got front row seats to your relationship development

“OMG my roommate is the worst she ate all of the frozen strawberries”

“Y/n kidnapped Storm all day while she studied and I thought I lost the fucking cat asjvdk”

“I had to run down and talk to the landlord because we dropped a pot of pasta sauce all over the carpet and couldn’t get the damn stain out.”

“She is so nice in preparation for a family dinner zoom, she ran out to the local Filipino food place and pick stuff up.”

“Sorry I’m late I overslept and didn’t want to wake up Y/n.”

They weren’t stupid, and could clearly see how whipped he was.

Dream and Geroge teased him about it constantly.

“Woah, calm down Sap, you should probably tell her you love her before you propose.”

“Yeah Dream’s right, it’s kinda weird that you’re living together before ever dating.”

He always flushed and denied it with a shake of his head.

He wasn’t into you, are they crazy?

Quackity and Karl messed with him in more unorthodox ways

There are a solid number of clips where they are fake crying over how he’s cheating on them, and even more tweets to match

It only got worse when you met them accidentally.

He was chatting post-stream on a video channel with George, Dream, Karl, and Quackity, and just his luck, you came into his room.

Like of all the times you could walk in, it was the time he was with his five closest friends but I digress

“Yo I got some extra tips yesterday so I picked up some extra Red Bull if you want to do one of your weird all-nighter streams.”

“Y/n I’m on channel.”

“Oh shit sorry my b. Catch.”

All the guys heard was a thud and a groan from Sapnap as the six-pack hit him in the chest.

Dream was the one to recognize your name.

“WAIT IS THAT Y/N I WANT TO MEET THEM!”

You could hear Dream’s voice through his headphones

“Sap… who is that?”

“No one. I’ll be out in a sec to help with dinner.”

You could hear a British voice come through.

“Oh so we are no one now, huh.”

Another voice piped through.

“Common... ¿Qué intentas ocultar?”

You cut in.

“Your headset it shit my guy. I can hear everything. I’m down to talk to them.”

He let out a groan.

“Fine. But you’re gonna have to do the dishes tonight.”

“Deal. Now move.”

“What? No.”

“Fine bitch.”

You collapsed onto his lap, plucking the headphones off of him.

“Hello, Sapnap’s friends. I am Y/n. A pleasure to meet y’all. Can you hear me?”

You heard a series of laughs through the headset, and a voice came through.

“Yes, we can see you too. I’m Karl, it’s so nice to finally meet his girlfriend.”

A blush rose on both of your faces, and another voice came through.

“Yeah, we’ve heard lots about you. Plus we can’t see your face in that picture Sap sent us. I’m Quackity”

That remark stopped your embarrassment in its tracks.

“What the fuck? How do you guys know me? I’m not even his girlfriend? And what picture?”

Sapnap grabbed your arm to calm you down as another voice cut in, but his one you recognized as his friend Dream.

“Hey, it’s okay. He just talks about you a bit, and the picture I believe was of you holding like three cats with like a red bull can on your head.”

“Jesus fucking christ why do they have that photo??”

He looked guilty but chuckled.

“Because that photo is a damn masterpiece.”

Karl’s voice came back in with a giggled.

“Soooo, Y/n we’d love to hear about you. Specifically anything funny or embarrassing that you have learned by living with him.”

Sapnap let out a groan from behind you as you went off.

“WELL lemme tell y’all, he has no cooking knowledge, well I mean, now he does, but one time, about a year ago, I had I been keeping a pot of water boiling for about an hour, soft boiling eggs, cooing noodles, blanching bok choy, etc. but this fucking genius is like ‘oH tHe HaNdLe Is StIcKiNg OuT. LeMmE mOvE iT wItH mY bArE hAnD.’ Needless to say, he burnt the crap outta his hand and kept the bag of frozen blueberries on it for the entire night. It took me like a solid five seconds to actually help him because I was laughing.”

By the time you had finished that story, you had seen Nick roll his eyes like 5 five times while the rest of the guys were wheezing.

“Yeah, well remember the time you were trying to imitate Rapunzel after we had watched it over Zoom with my sister, and you swung the edge of the frying pan into our head and got a nasty bump on it? At least I moved quick enough to put some ice on it.”

“Ice? It was the damn leftover Slushy that I had been freezing.”

“True, but you got to drink it after, so it was a win-win situation.”

“Sap, I had a bump the size of a golfball coming off of my temple. There was no winning.”

“Fine, you’re just making me sound like such a shit roommate.”

“No that’s not true, you do all of the talking to the landlord, and you at least tried to muffle the noise when you stream.”

“I guess that’s true, but you do like 80% of the cleaning.”

“Yeah but only because you’re working. Plus in the past 6 months, you’ve made coffee every morning, AND made sure I was taking my meds.”

“Those things aren’t that hard and I do it to make sure you don’t die because I lo- care about you.”

“What?”

“What?”

You heard Dream’s wheeze laugh and remembered that you guys were still on call.

“Smooth.”

You both went red, and Sap moved his arm around you to leave the channel.

The next few moments were complete torture, the two of you just sitting in silence.

You were wondering if he meant what he was about to say and he was scared that you had heard it.

He was the one to break the silence. (mind you you’re still sitting on his lap lmao)

“I’m sorry about that.”

You weren’t sure how to respond. Should you ask him if he meant it? Because that wouldn’t be that bad. Or just pretend it never happened. Nah that’d be hella awkward. Or-

“I love you too.”

“You what?”

Wow, okay your brain is being a little bitch rn, but fuck it. Balls to the walls baby.

“I love you, and I have for a while now. I just want you to know.”

You finally looked him in the eye, and he was grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

“Thank god. I love you, and nearly fucking told you for the first time in front of my friends accidentally. Damn, I’m smooth.”

You laughed and he smiled wider.

“Can I kiss you?”

After a quick nod he swooped in and holy hell his lips felt great. His arm wound around your waist and your hands made their way to his jaw as he pulled you closer to him.

The only thing playing in your mind was “and they were roommates”

[oliviridian]

Reflecting

I can’t help but think now that we’re 5 weeks into this root canal of a break-up how utterly unromantic the relationship really was.

 It was founded a long time crush on my part that was never reciprocated until I was emotionally present for her in a hard time. Then, we transitioned to LDR which she hated so much, that she couldn’t stand at all. So I visited in person and she visited in person, and then I stayed there. When she found out the dorms at the college she was likely to go to wouldn’t let her stay in the women’s it was a reminder that her home state wasn’t kind to people like us. I suggested she could come stay with me and my Mom, start working and eventually we could move out together. She would have a chance at the dorms here in Washington too. Without researching she jumped on the plan. When she found out that she needed a year of residency to make tuition affordable, she focused all of her attention on getting money for a car. Then getting us out of my Mom’s and into a studio apartment.

At this time, I was working part-time and going to school and shortly after our move the COVID-19 pandemic began. At first, things looked alright. My job went remote and her’s gave her two weeks paid time off. They created strict control over the situation, not letting customers into the store at all. But while I was working from home and doing zoom school, my ex started resenting me for the privilege of my situation. Resentment only grew, she hated I had support from my family that she lacked, she hated that I could work from home, she hated that I would spend days in our studio apartment focused on work and school and leisure and that for me all of those things were essentially confined to a desk. We spent two years in a studio apartment with resentment fermenting. I tried to be a good partner in every way that I knew how but the situation was already untenable by the time she shook me. Our sex life broke down.

We break up for the first time in July of 2021. I ask my friend to take me somewhere else, I negotiate my way into moving in. I regret not doing that now. I clutch a letter she wrote our first valentine’s day. One of three or four romantic gestures in our whole relationship. I was so starved for love and affection, her texting me asking if we were making a mistake, asking to see me made me crumble. I wanted to eat breakfast together and be okay. We agreed to reevaluate the relationship at the end of the lease. Our sex life never improves. The resentment is still there. But we’re happy to just go back to being comfortable. We can rely on each other. Everything works okay if we just trust each other. We really do love each other, even if we’re so mismatched, right? I tell myself it’s normal I have to fight her tooth and nail for her to tell me any reason she likes me.

We move again. We don’t move to the apartment I want, we move to the one she wants. Old fights flare up harder than ever. I try to address her needs so hard I break my arm. Stop being able to work on driving. She always wanted me to be driving. She leaves for home to see her family. Home is always not with me, I notice. My friend visits, she organizes a trip to Seattle with a third friend. When I go, this is the last straw. Sarah wanted to go to Seattle. We never made time. I’ve been working 40 hour weeks and so has she. We have shared as many days off as I can count on my hands. I didn’t plan a daytrip on any of them. This is the reason it ends. We fight and break up again.

She asks to go to couples therapy like my friend suggested months ago. I ask to think about it. My therapist reminds me this relationship has looked abusive to her for two years. I think about every time I had sex when I didn’t want to. I look at my body’s reaction to her, walking on eggshells, desperate for approval, afraid of her anger. I realize it has been too late for at least a year. It might have always been too late. I was a solution to a problem. My affection and desire were ego boosts. I bitterly think of her sucking the validation out of a man’s cock next time. I get upset with myself for the bitterness and anger that creeps in. I feel used and dirty. Everything hurts for a few weeks. We’re still living together. Ten Days left and I will never see her again. I don’t think I’m going to miss her.

[frawgs]

Maybe I should have given more context? I’m a cishet man and started seeing my therapist (a woman, but I don’t know anything else, besides she’s a couple years younger than me) like two months ago, via zoom. She’s helped me a lot in this short time (is the first therapist in give me a diagnosis, BPO). Soon we will begin FPT therapy, which depends a lot in transference between the patient and the therapist. The thing is, in the last couple of sessions she’s been more relaxed, laughs frequently and even has allowed herself to say a joke or two. I know this doesn’t mean anything at all, but everytime she laughs I feel like I’m melting inside. Also, she’s cute. So yeah, in the last couple of weeks I have found myself fantasizing with her, in every conceivable way, and am afraid that this will take root inside me, maybe making me to fall for her (even though I know almost nothing about her). So the real question was: have you ever feel like this about a therapist? And if so, how do you deal with this shit? Cos, I mean, I don’t want to develop feelings for her (it hasn’t occurred yet, but maybe ends happening) and don’t want ruin my therapy, which, as I said, has been working just fine for me.

Hope this doesn’t seem too long for you. Cheers.

all of the therapists i’ve ever had i’ve always seen as a mother figure or a cool aunt (all of my therapists have been girls minus one boy but i never opened up to him) genuinely think if you are starting to catch feelings you should definitely tell them so they can refer you to someone else because that can get unhealthy and uncomfortable fast hopefully it’s just a spark of attachment due to being listened to and cared about!!

[letsdiscoverkitty]

Treatment/Recovery Update - May 2021

Okay, I will try to ramble less in this one (so sorry!) ^ well that didn't happen!

In terms of when I did leave hospital, as I mentioned a tiny bit in the last post, my EDP was completely AWOL. A month before I was due to be discharged she came to a meeting with myself and my consultant, during which we set up 4 appointments that would be over zoom before I was discharged to help with relapse prevention and the transition home, as well as setting out, in principle, the therapeutic support that I would be getting once home...it all sounded great, so great. But as usual when it comes to my team, it was too good to be true (should have called it). I attempted to contact her when our appointments never happened but I kept being met by a brick wall; no one knew what was happening, all I got told was that she was "off"... Time passed and I was discharged with only a phone call booked in from someone from the general team to check I was safe a few days later (it was literally 5 minutes, long if that) and an appointment to do physical monitoring the next wee....a far cry from the original discharge plan *sigh* Coming home was a bit of a whirlwind. We were approaching Christmas but we were still under a lot of restrictions with COVID, so it was a very strange/messy/weird few weeks.

Time continued to pass and there was still no confirmation around therapy or support, even the ED team didn't know what was happening with L, I just continued to go to two weekly physical monitoring. In the end, with nowhere else to turn, I contacted my consultant from hospital. To say that she was mad that nothing had been in place/I had no support would be an understatement and I thank my lucky stars that she was able to get involved. It took a couple of weeks but I finally had my first session with a therapist in February. In total it took about 8-9weeks from discharge to see someone, which, well, was hard.

Upon reflection, I think one of the biggest things I struggled with with coming home was that I had literally no leave to practice beforehand. This meant that I unfortunately slipped back into old habits very quickly as, well I know it is no excuse but coming back to the same environment your brain easily slips into automatic mode and you find yourself doing what you "used" to do without realising it.

I was in, I would say, quite a vulnerable state when I left hospital (the last few months there were pretty rocky to say the least) and the day before I was discharged (as I mentioned in a previous post somewhere) I was handed 3 different, very conflicting, meal plans and the nutritionist who had previously been very horrible to me and who had been away for a number of weeks, told me that she did not think I could continue to recover at home and that the best possible case would be if I only lost a bit of weight over the next 6 months....I think you can probably guess how badly this was taken and how messy my mind was. So with 3 meal plans in hand, none of which I had practiced, with little to no support from the ED team, I was, essentially, crisis managing, simply trying to get through each day.

I know, I know. Classic kitty - stuck record. failure. mess. making a million and one excuses. trying to make out like she is fine to the rest of the world when in fact inside she was falling apart. sigh.

In terms of my weight recovery I was not discharged at a healthy BMI/weight, which my consultant was sad about, however I was in a much better place than when I was admitted (I think I had gained about half the weight I would have needed to from when I was admitted to get to a healthy weight). I will admit that part of me does wonders whether staying would have been beneficial, because on a very basic level yes it could have helped in some ways. However if I stretch my mind back to when I was still on the ward ,it actually still floods me with anxiety and fear because of how UNHELPFUL the environment had sadly become. It is hard to explain to someone who has not experienced an EDU, but the patient groups can and do make a massive of differences. I was vvv lucky that when I was initially admitted, and for the first good couple of months, it was a v supportive and recovery focused environment. However, by about late Sept/early October ,things turned completely upside down (which was not helped by the fresh COVID lockdowns either) and even staff were saying how terrible it had gotten and how they could not believe the things that they were being asked to manage on the progression ward. There were times when I felt incredible unsafe on the ward and feared for others patients, which is not "okay". I genuinely believe that staying any longer would have likely made my mental health decline further; I had already found the massive shift was negatively affecting me and I think staying would have been unwise. I had also gained quite a lot of weight and was, I hate to admit, struggling with both coming to terms with that along with dealing with everything that you are continually facing when going through treatment/recovery alongside working on trauma stuff. I know none of that is any worthy excuse, but that was how it was...At this time I was struggling a lot with my meal plan and had quite a few lapses whilst on the transition phase of the unit however despite screaming out for help/support from staff, because of the acute situation on the ward, I was just left. They knew I was struggling, I was told time and time again that they had not forgotten me, but did I get help? no. It was actually made worse by the then nutritionist who sat me down like a naughty school girl and basically told me that I was a failure and that I would never achieve anything in life blah blah blah (please see a past post if you want to know more) which made me even more scared to reach out for 'help'/'support'. So no, I don't think staying would have helped much, which is a real shame.

Therapy wise I had a bit of a rough ride in there (god I'm really selling this aren't I?!). When admitted I was not in a place for 'traditional' therapy what so ever; looking back I honestly have no idea how I was even 'functioning' (was I functioning? probably not) and even the group therapies were a struggle but my consultant stuck with me and with time I was able to process a little more. One thing that helped me beyond words was 1:1 Art Therapy. This was not something I had accessed before, only ever doing group sessions in the past which was mostly about getting away from the ward and doing a bit of art. I cannot reiterate enough how different and HELPFUL the 1:1 sessions were. The art therapy, who I knew from the last year and is an absolutely GEM, helped me to begin to process and work through the trauma that I had experienced with dad. It took a lot of time and persistence but I was able to use those sessions in so many ways and I will forever be grateful to P for supporting me (I was so lucky to be able to have 1:1 sessions for the majority of my 8 admission).

The more traditional therapy initially took the form of 30min sessions with my consultant once to twice a week (as much as I hated them, she was bloody good). I also had a review and a few sessions with the lead therapist via zoom (she was heavily pregnant so was working from home) not long after being admitted, but she soon went on maternity leave. This left me to be picked up by her student, who was actually incredible. We did a long extended piece of work on my perfectionism which, again, was SO helpful but she sadly left (for bigger and better things) and I was left hanging for a while as there were no other openings. A new lead therapist started and after a while he did a few sessions with me before leaving suddenly (I think even staff only had a weeks notice, which was ridiculous), so I was back to twiddling thumbs for a few weeks. I then met with a therapist who worked 2 mornings a week that I saw a bit during my last admission but we didn't do many sessions and it just fell away. This was mostly my fault as by this point I was questioning my admission and whether I would self discharge as there were some not good things going on on the ward, so I wasn't really in the headspace to explore things deeply and had been picked up and put down so many times that I just couldn't do anymore. Throughout that time though I continued to see my consultant weekly, mainly focusing on mindfulness and other therapy styles thrown in there too at times.

I will forever be thankful/grateful for the admission I had, especially to be under a different consultant (for COVID reasons they had to split things differently as they would usually do it by area but that wasn't possible at the time I was admitted) as her approach made a huge difference. I still remember one of the first things she said to me was that she couldn't believe/was that I had been placed on the SEED pathway and that she believed that I could be more than that, which honestly, gave me a little bit of hope (something that had been ripped apart and shredded by my usual consultant multiple times).

But back to now.... I have now been seeing a new therapist weekly (when possible) since February and, in a backwards way, I am so glad that L disappeared off the grid because the "support" I was going to be getting under the original plan was just sessions with her to do some self guided self help stuff, whereas with this therapist we have actually been doing some HELPFUL work. In terms of L, I think the last I was told she never returned to work and has now left the team (we have a sneaky feeling that she either had a complete break down or that it was due to too may complaints (mum called this a long time ago as she was not qualified for the role at all and was utterly useless), which, yeah, was strange to not get an ending as I had worked with her for a few years. Anyway, I've been doing SCHEMA therapy with this new lady (I'd not heard of it before) and at first I was a bit reluctant but it's been incredibly insightful. I continue to learn more about myself and the reasons why I may have gone down certain roads each session. HOWEVER. and this is a big however. There has been a bit of a snag in the rope.

In short, yes I have been engaging really well with the therapy side, my weight and physical health has only continued to deteriorate since i was discharged. We are talking classic kitty of slowly slipped backwards, nothing dramatic, nothing to make alarm bells go off or warrant a review, but it's not been good. Anorexia is screaming at me for saying all of this, it shouts "but you weigh so much more than when you were admitted, you are a complete fraud blah blah blah" which is all the same old boring drivel it always spews out. But basically Im in dangerous waters now in terms of losing therapy/not being able to engage with therapy properly if things dont improve. Ive been in classic stuck mode, getting so absorbed by the numbers and the bubble that AN offers, that I have been numb to it all. The HCA I was seeing was really trying to help me to make changes but she left a while ago (she was going back to train as a nurse) and since then I have had the odd appointment here and there (I think it fell to every 3 weeks for a while as there were no available appointments) with people trying to cover the clinic until someone else is hired for the role, which is far from ideal as they literally just do the necessary obs and send you on your way.

Okay that sounds like yet another excuse, which is probably is, but it's not been an easy ride since I left hospital to say the least.

BUT this past week things have begun to shift a little. I was honest with my therapist about the whole food/meal plan side of things and we actually spoke about how we can't focus on therapy things until I am in a more stable place, which is both really hard to hear but also exactly what I need to hear. I am actually being more open to change, which is a shift from where I was just a week ago. It is bloody painful, even just thinking about it all hurts/is exhausting and I am still very much in the darkness /struggling with it but there is now a little part of me that is screaming out and trying to be heard. There is a little part of me that WANTS to get out of this endless messy limbo that this relapse has been and wants to start stepping back into "recovery". There is part of me that wants a chance. And I've got to start listening to that side a little more.

I promise, the next update will be a little more positive Stay tuned.

[themonkeycabal]

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Episode 1 SPOILERS

If you need to blacklist, I will be tagging all things as #tfatws and/or #tfatws spoilers

My roommate keeps calling this The Falcon and the Snowman. I'm not entirely sure it's accidental.

I was going to watch at midnight and then fell asleep. Betrayal. I will not forgive this, brain.

Bucky Barnes character development. Sam Wilson character development. Six full episodes of Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson. When we watched Civil War, did we think we'd actually be lucky enough to get a buddy idiot cop movie? Let alone six hours of it? #blessed

What are we expecting here? I have no idea, honestly. I think all the clips we've been seeing are from the first couple episodes, so they've hidden any sort of plot from us. We know Baron Zemo's around with his stupid purple ski mask and burning hatred for superheroes and probably specifically for Bucky who he tried (and honestly kind of succeeded, before then ultimately failing dramatically) to set up. And Sharon Carter will turn up at some point. OMG guys, Sharon Carter character development!

I'm just here for the buddy bickering and badassery.

SPOILERS BELOW

New World Order: Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes realize that their futures are anything but normal. *Realize*? lol

Also, it's tagged as "science fiction, action-adventure, buddy" Awww.

Aww, Sam looks sad as he gazes at The Shield.

"How's it feel?" "Like it's someone else's." "It isn't."

That's right, Sam! Listen to that voice. That's yours now, baby.

We're just going to roll right into a mission. Rescuing a Captain Vassant, whose plane fell out of contact shortly after take off, from the ridiculously named group LAF, somewhere over Tunisia. Sam's got to keep LAF from doing bad things and the US Military can't be seen doing anything blah blah blah, violation of treaties, yada yada. And Sam's all "blah blah got it". We're on the same page, Sam and me. Nobody wants to hear it, Briefing Exposition Guy.

We will have a Lt. Torres on the ground following along and offering helpful commentary as they go.

Sam is warned to be subtle as he falls backwards out of the cargo plane in very dramatic fashion and then swoops off on his brightly colored wings. lol

Sam gets to the captain's plane but the pilot is dead and a shady LAF guy is piloting. Oh no. Hey, it's Batroc. Last seen getting his ass kicked by Captain America in "CA: The Winter Soldier". He makes some jokes about their prisoner - presumably Captain Vassant. Awful cocky for a guy with a history of getting stomped on, you know.

Anyway, he's about to get his ass kicked by a Captain America again as Sam breaks into the plane. You might just be using wing shields now, Sam, but you're Captain America in my heart. Also, hey, dumb bad guys, don't open fire with an automatic weapon inside a plane or the ricochets might kill your pilot. And his body will slump forward and put the plane into a steep dive.

Batroc distracts Sam while the bad guys gather up Vassant and jump out of the plane with him. They have wingsuits, but Sam has, you know, wings. And like a jet pack. Don't hit the canyon walls, Sam!

Somehow the bad guys have waiting gunships. Did they expect to jump out of the plane over this canyon? I can only assume. Red Wing takes care of one of the helicopters. Man these guys are a pain in the ass. They wing suit into one of the many many helicopters that just happen to be right in the right spot. They're racing for the Libyan border. Then Sam shows up, they throw Vassant out the copter again — this guy is having the worst day — and glide into another chopper.

Man ANOTHER gunship? The hell? They're causing serious ecological damage to this canyon, what with all the zillionty missiles they're firing at Sam. How strapped is this thing?

LT Torres is trying to keep up, and you know, trying to get Sam to not fly into Libyan territory and cause an international incident or some such. Sam is struck by inspiration and not by a missile. But, the missiles are following Sam and Sam is following Batroc's chopper. Sam zooms through the open doors of the chopper, knocks poor Vassant out of the chopper AGAIN (but then catches him), and LAF blows up their own helicopter. Alas, Batroc escaped.

Sam saves the day and LT Torres is like super excited. Don't break your humvee, Torres.

Torres and Sam stop by a tea shop in Tunis, or somewhere. Sam's trying to fix his tech that got a little shot up and Torres buys the tea. A man comes up and thanks Sam for saving his wife. It's sweet. And then Torres gets up and wanders about a bit with his phone as he exposits about LAF. Is Torres about to become a pin cushion? Only instead of pins it'll be bullets? I'm not feeling good about his continued health. He's too cute and earnest.

Oh, he's looking for some sort of hidden, augmented reality tag on the walls. A red handprint, id'ing some group that calls themselves the Flag Smashers. Bad guys are really scraping the bottom of the evil name barrel. Anyway, they think the world was better during the blip. Nothing says better like mass failure of infrastructure and probably world wide famine. They want a unified world without borders. I have big doubts the world would be a borderless utopia during a blip-like event. Power vacuums invite trouble, seldom unity.

Anyhoo. Sam kind of agrees with me, "every time something gets better for one group, it gets worse for another".

Torres will track the 'online chatter'. But he's also heard some wacky things about Steve Rogers, conspiracy theory stuff, "they think that he's in a secret base on the moon, looking down over us". LOL. What? Is Steve a moon angel now? or Santa Claus? "You didn't like fly him to the moon?" Sam assures him that's all very much silly foolishness. Steve's in Boca working on his tan.

Sam's back in D.C. giving a talk about Steve at the Smithsonian's National Air & Space museum. "And he mastered posing stoically". Hey, I have that picture. Also, RHODEY! Hi Rhodey!

"A few months ago, billions of people reappeared after 5 years away. Sending the world into turmoil." Again. I know this was meant to come out before WandaVision, but timeline-wise this works better.

"We need new heroes. Ones suited for the times we're in. Symbols are nothing without the women and men that give them meaning." Sam holds up The Shield. "I don't know if there's been a greater symbol." Aww, he's retiring the shield. He hands it off to museum people and they put it in a display case. I think Rhodey has some thoughts about this. I suspect Rhodey maybe doesn't agree.

Sam and Rhodey wander through the Cap exhibit and Sam's talking about how when he left (or got snapped, it's not like you had a choice about that, Sam), his nephews were babies and now they're little men. Awww. Rhodey says Sam should bring them to D.C., he'll teach them how to fly, "the right way". lol.

Rhodey says it's crazy to think nobody will be carrying the shield. Sam points out they went 70 years without, so like …

Rhodey wants to know why Sam didn't take up the mantle. BTW, this is a cool exhibit, marvel peeps. Sam says it feels like it belongs to someone else … Steve. Rhodey says everything's broken. Allies are enemies, things are torn apart. People are looking for somebody to make it better. Having made his pitch, Rhodey leaves Sam to stare mournfully at the shield. I think you're afraid to pick up the shield, Sam. Afraid you won't measure up. But, you can do it. I have faith. Also, Steve was kind of a disaster in his own way. He wasn't perfect, which was the point of Steve as a hero. Pick up the shield, Sam.

A fancy hotel, chatting people in the lobby, up to a mezzanine, a group of very Russian oligarch looking dudes and their security. And lo! A metal arm punches through a wall and the Winter Soldier, looking very Winter Soldiery appears and stabs some dudes in the neck. This has a sepia, dream/nightmareness to it. Oh yeah, it's his old shiny silver arm. Totally a nightmare/very bad memory. "Hail Hydra" and he kills the head Russian guy. The poor dude who was just chatting in the lobby is caught trying to get into his door. He swears he didn't see anything, begs for his life and the Winter Soldier shoots him. Bucky wakes up, breathing heavily. Poor Bucky.

Glad he's in therapy. I'm sure goat herding in Wakanda was good and peaceful and all, but, goats will only get you so far. Also glad we've skipped the "wanted terrorist" part and gone on to traumatized hero.

I get the feeling he's not the best patient. He lies to his therapist straight off. Twice. lol. "You're a civilian now. With your history the government needs to know, you're not gonna … [therapist makes stabby motion]." lol (I love this actress by the way. She's been in everything for ages. She's great). "It's a condition of your pardon. So tell me about your most recent nightmare." "I didn't have a nightmare." She starts writing, Bucky objects and tells her she's being passive-aggressive, but he gives in.  

He has a list of amends to make and three rules to follow. He crossed a name off. There's a Hydra pawn who's a senator, he helped her get into office. "After Hydra disbanded, she continued to use the power I gave her." Hmm. He tracks her car and listens in on her plotting to have a congressman killed.

* Rule number one: Can't do anything illegal.

He's hijacked the Senator's car and is remote controlling it, making it drive all out of control and freaking her out. He says he was collecting intel to give to an aide to convict her. Absolutely only did that. Not one illegal thing about that at all, no ma'am.

"Rule number two?" "Hmm. What was rule number two?" "Nobody gets hurt. It's a big one." "Then why isn't it rule number one?" Oh, Bucky, you're a jackass.

* Rule number two: Nobody gets hurt.

"I didn't hurt anybody. Promise." He totally broke a dude's hand and then punched him in the face, knocking him out. I mean, there's levels of 'hurt' I suppose.

"The whole point of making amends is to fulfill rule number three." "Of course I completed rule number three."

* Rule number three: "I am no longer the Winter Soldier. I am James 'Bucky' Barnes. And you're part of my efforts to make amends." He says to the corrupt senator he's just been terrifying. And then he walks away as a tac team pulls up. lol.

What I'm getting from this therapy session is that Bucky is a big fat fibber.

Also he's got a little black book full of names. Including, I see, H. Zemo. That's not going to go as smoothly as taking down a shady government fatcat, I think.

"So you did it all right, but it didn't help with the nightmares?" "Well, like I said, I didn't have any." Fibber.

People wanna help you Bucky and you can trust them. "I trust people," he mutters grumpily. She asks for his phone and he hands it over. Look, lady! Trust! Probably government mandated trust, but still!

"You don't have ten phone numbers on this thing." … I don't have ten phone numbers on my phone. :( "Oh, and you've been ignoring texts from Sam." Well …

"I am the only person you have called all week. That is so sad." lol. Tough love from the therapist. I'm feeling a little judged myself, though. "You're alone." ALRIGHT DON'T RUB IT IN!

"You're a hundred years old. You have no history. No family—" "Are you lashing out at me, doc? Because that's really unprofessional." I love you Bucky, but you are a disaster patient.

Bucky relents. "I'm trying. This is new for me. I didn't have a moment to deal with anything. I had a little calm in Wakanda. And other than that, I just went from one fight to another for 90 years." Get this man a goat farm!

"So now that you've stopped fighting, what do you want?" "Peace." A goat farm. "That is utter bullshit." lol "You're a terrible shrink." "I was an excellent soldier, so I saw a lot of dead bodies and I know how that can shut you down. And if you are alone, that is the quietest, most personal hell." Get some friends, Bucky. "I know you've been through a lot. But, you've got your mind back. You're being pardoned. These are good things. You're free." "To do what?"

On the streets of Brooklyn. Bucky breaks up an argument between neighbors about trashcans. Hey, Bucky has a friend! Yori Nakajima who's probably like 80+. Did you babysit him back in the day, Buck? har har. They were going to meet for lunch, but some punk named Unique was putting his trash into Mr. Nakajima's trash can and just derailed the whole day. The horror. No joke, though, people get so nutted up about that. It's weird to me. Of course, I did also have a neighbor who never put out his trash for pickup and just snuck out at night before trash day and distributed his garbage into in other people's bins. Cheapass.

"Hey man, I'm Unique. Like Monique but it's got a 'u' in there for uniqueness." Yeah, you should have let Yori smack him, Buck.

Well now Yori is just not in the mood for lunch. Bucky tries to persuade him, but one grumpy old man out grumps the other. "But Izzy. We always go to Izzy on Wednesday. What if I buy?" "Fine. But no talking." lol. BFFs!

Yori is looking at the obituaries. "Look, nobody made it past 90 this week." Bucky tsks "So young, such a shame."

Bucky kind of smiles at the girl behind the counter at the sushi joint, Yori tells him he should ask her out. Bucky makes a "are you nuts, shut up" face. That doesn't stop Yori. "He would like to take you out on a date. Maybe to bingo or a night of pinochle." You're a wild man, Yori!

She's down by it, though, and she and Yori hammer out the details while Bucky's like uh, okay, so wow, that's happening. "There's a dance to these things. You can't … you gotta warm up and I haven't danced since 1943."

Yori sees something and suddenly gets sad. His son loves red bean mochi. His son was a consultant, working abroad and he was killed. Oh. Oh Bucky, why you gotta … Yori's son was the innocent witness he killed at the hotel in his nightmare/memory. "I will never know what really happened to him." Brutal.

Delacroix, Louisana

Sam's on his way home. Wilson Family Seafood. Aww. His nephews are helping mom with the catch. "Blue for the snapper, orange for the white fish," Sam calls out. The boys run over to him. They do look like fine gentlemen. It's weird, Sam, I get it. I recently realized my oldest nephew will be 13 in May and it's like "no, he's only in kindergarten, what are you talking about?"

His sister greets him then tells him he's looking all sneaky. Sam deflects. Their boat has seen better days. The Paul & Darlene. Aww. Is that his parents names? "Baby being held together by duct tape and prayers." Just needs to float long enough for his sister to sell it. But Sam's all, uh I thought we were going to *discuss* that. Uh oh, family drama. "We did, and then you were off fighting Dr Space Cape or whatever (lol), while I was holding it together for five long years." Ouch.

Sam is not down by this selling the boat thing. His sister doesn't seem to think they're in a position to hold on to it. Also, she'd really like to not hash this out on the pier with like twenty other people around, Sam.

They get into more of an argument on the boat. The family biz is not doing well financially. Sarah won't let Sam help for some reason, and he makes some comment about the house and loans and she punches him in the chest. lol "I forgot how hard you hit."

Sam insists they can turn it around, consolidate loans. And she's all, been there done that, I've come to terms with this. He's a persistent little jerk. This is such a perfectly sibling argument. Notably he has moved himself out of punching range.

Aww, she wants to believe he can save the boat, but she has DOUBTS.

Back in Brooklyn. Bucky attempts his date. He turns up at the end of the sushi girl's shift and gives her flowers. "Well, if that's not the most adorably old-fashioned thing anyone's ever done."

They chat while she tidies. He tried online dating oh lol. It didn't take. She tells him "You sound like my dad. Wait how old are you?" "Hundred and six." Oh yeah, what a funny joke. Next she wants to know why he's wearing gloves. "I have … um … poor circulation." He grimaces at himself and glances out the window. Smooth as silk, Bucky. Smoooooth.

"Let's play a game." Now, I'm thinking like some weird dating word/get-to-know-each-other game or something. I don't know. But, nope, she means Battleship. lol. I like her.

The drinking game version of battleship. Bucky sucks at it. "You sure can drink." "Yeah, well." Super assassin, unfair advantage.

We're just going to rub in this whole The Winter Soldier killed Yori's son thing, as she says it's nice that he's spending time with the old man. Since he was all messed up after his son was murdered and how it was extra hard because he didn't know what happened. I'm not sure this is healthy, Bucky.

"There's no word for someone whose kids die." Okay, ouch, lady, jeez. Bucky looks like he wants to puke. Or crawl into a deep dark hole. Or something. "Because it's the worst thing that can happen." Bucky nopes right out the front door. So, maybe they should have played pinochle instead.

Bucky goes to Yori. Are you really going to tell this man you murdered his son when you were a brain-washed Hydra assassin? Yori asks how the date was, and Bucky sees a shrine to the man's son in the apartment. Poor Bucky. He makes some excuse about owing Yori for lunch and leaves. Yori's name is in his book of amends. :(

Back in Louisiana. Sam and the kids are packing up meals. His sister maybe wants to sell meals in addition to fish. Sam says they've got to get going to their appointment at the bank. She's says it's in an hour. Sam must be just the worst brother to live with "There's no such thing as on time. You're either early or late. Pick one." Man, no wonder he gets punched.

Switzerland

Lt Torres is walking down a street with an unusually large number of people just sort of milling around in the middle of the street looking at their phones. He's got his kind of hidden, recording. He stops a guy and asks if he knows what they're supposed to be doing. Oh it's the flag munchers, or whatever. There's a weird phony bird whistle and then people gather around a person handing out masks with red handprints on them. His decoy bad guy phone chirps and gives the order to run. A guy jumps out of a nearby building with two huge duffle bags (of money it seems) and walks off while the previously milling people become a seemingly panicked mob, distracting police and whatnot.

Torres tries to arrest the jumper guy, who appears to have some super strength as he kicks a policeman halfway across the street. Torres, you're cute, but not super bright. Torres gets body slammed and then stomped. He survives again, however, defying the odds.

At the bank. The account manager keeps giving Sam the side-eye as he goes through their paperwork. "Do I know you from somewhere." Sam's all modest, "I don't know. Do you?" And then he makes a little wing flappy move with his hands. lol. What a nerd. "Falcon!" Then he takes a selfie with Sam. Sarah is very done with all this. She tries to get them back on track. Account guy wants to know how Avengers make a living. Probably not looking good for your loan, Sam.

"Is there some kind of fund for heroes? Or did Stark pay you when he was around? My condolences, by the way."

Yeah, financially this is looking bad, my dude. "You have no income over the last five years." Well, but, he was blipped. I mean …

Alas, shot down for the loan.

Sam and Sarah argue on the street. Ah, Sam ran off to the Air Force and didn't deal with what was going on at home. Oh my, this is getting ugly. Speaking as someone who got disowned on account of a family business, let me just say, they're not easy. Nuh-uh.

"Half the boat's mine and so is the house. We're not selling our family's legacy." "You gonna do me like what when you know I'm right?"

I get it might be awkward to ask, but I bet you could have asked Pepper for a loan, Sam, and she would have given it to you gladly. Come on, man.

Later. Sam's working on the boat's engine, and it's not cooperating. In the cabin he looks at the family pictures on all the walls. He's having a rough day. About as rough as Torres who texts him to find a secure line and call him along with a selfie of his bruised and battered face. #important (lol, really?)

Sam watches the footage Torres caught and they chat about how Torres was supposed to be doing that stuff online and not getting his face kicked in in Switzerland.

Sarah interrupts and turns on the TV. Some guy is giving a speech about how everybody needs a hero. "We need someone who can inspire us again. Someone who can be a symbol for all of us. So on behalf of the Department of Defense and our Commander-in-Chief, it is with great honor that we announce here today that the United States of America has a new hero." hmm, no comment. Except, you should have taken up the shield, Sam. Now it's Sam's turn to look like he's going to puke. What did I say about power vacuums? Somebody will fill them, whether you want them to or not. 

This new guy looks like a goober. There, I said it.

credits

So … lots of setup. And very clear on the two guys trying to figure out where they fit in this world post blip and big wars. Both of them trying to fix broken families.

Plus a goober in a Cap suit.

So far so good. 

[shefanispeculator]

I'm slightly disappointed to log onto Zoom and find Gwen Stefani in Los Angeles. I wanted to see the ranch. Stefani spent most of the pandemic in Oklahoma with her fiancé and fellow The Voice coach Blake Shelton, with whom she has recently collaborated on a string of country radio hits, alongside a kitsch Christmas song. For a ska-pop superstar, it's a pivot, but Stefani and Shelton are cute together — picture-perfect in their opposite attraction.

Country Gwen exists, her urban counterpart assures me, but on this particular MacBook she's nowhere to be seen. I'm not sure what crude regional stereotypes I was expecting (Stefani spitting sunflower seeds? Shelton line dancing in the background?) but I get Californian sunshine instead, illuminating a version of Stefani more familiar from my teenage years, when Love. Angel. Music. Baby and its follow-up The Sweet Escape spawned millions of fans, haters and imitators. She's platinum blonde, red lipsticked and wearing a black-and-white outfit that matches the decor. The checkerboard pattern can be traced back to an even earlier era, when Stefani and her No Doubt bandmates were '80s teenagers obsessed with two-tone acts like Madness and The Specials.

Cowboy boots wouldn't fit this picture, and nor would Stefani's glitzy showgirl outfits from The Voice, where she just wrapped another season as a celebrity coach. As she prepares to release her fourth solo record, and enters the fifth decade of an extraordinarily successful music career, Gwen Stefani is re-re-branding as... Gwen Stefani.

Top: Local Boogeyman, Pants: GCDS, Shoes: Valentino, Earrings, bracelets and rings: Dena Kemp (The Residency Experience), Necklaces: Gwen's own, Engagement ring: Gwen's own

"But what is that?" Stefani asks with seriousness, as we consider the possibility of some essential, inherent Gwen. "Everyone's interpretation of what I am and how I sing, I mean, that's what this era is about for me."

Said era kicked off late last year, with the music video for "Let Me Reintroduce Myself." It saw Stefani playfully revisit the wardrobes of album cycles past, from the ab-bearing tomboy tank tops of "Hollaback Girl" to the club kid blue hair mascara of '90s No Doubt. Her Harajuku Girls also make a return. The entire visual is a huge flex, not only for the sheer volume of iconic career moments recreated in dutiful detail, but the fact Stefani can still fit into the clothes originally worn during all of them. She looks eerily the same, frighteningly good, ageing in reverse at the same pace as her frequent collaborator Pharrell.

"It's really a blessing to be able to have such a long career, where there really is nothing to prove anymore."

Pop stars are expected to be young forever, in looks but also in their capacity to innovate new trends. Which makes the nostalgic music video a curious choice. Doesn't Stefani know by now that the cardinal rule of pop is to avoid repeating yourself? That even the hottest artists in the world are basically required by law to create completely new eras from scratch every six months in order to appease fans and maintain maximum TikTok-ready relevance?

Of course she does, but that doesn't mean she has to participate. Stefani isn't trying to chase down her contemporaries, despite clearly possessing the physical fitness required. "It's really a blessing to be able to have such a long career, where there really is nothing to prove anymore," she says. "It's a different energy. You know, it's really just about doing it to do it, as opposed to trying to make a statement or make a mark."

Corset: Ronald van der Kemp, Bracelets: Dena Kemp (The Residency Experience), Earrings: Lana Jewelry (The Residency Experience), Engagement ring: Gwen's own

Even the Saweetie remix of her latest single "Slow Clap" happened on a whim, after the younger artist happened to post a video of herself vibing to Stefani's 2004 single "Luxurious" on Instagram Stories. They knocked out the song and accompanying video in a day. Neither seems bothered by the Old Navy meme. "It was just this little video that we did on the fly," Stefani says. "It just happened. It just feels good to put new stuff out there."

Stefani completed a two-year Vegas greatest hits residency in 2019, which gave her a sense of perspective on her own legacy. "You make a new record because that's what is exciting for you," she says. "But people really just want to hear the records after a while that were the backdrop to their lives, a 'Don't Speak' or a 'Just a Girl' or a 'Hollaback Girl,' or whatever it was for them. So, you know, it's hard — you can only be new when you're new, and that's just the truth, and I know that."

She says she was pleasantly surprised that "Let Me Reintroduce Myself" charted at all, and that she only found out it did when Shelton walked into the kitchen to show her the iTunes numbers. "I burst out crying with joy, because it was like, 'Whoa, really?' I think I'd set myself up to be quite realistic about where I'm at."

Stefani, endlessly polite and self-deprecating in conversation, which on her end mostly consists of endearingly earnest run-on monologues, says she still has "tons" of insecurities. I get the impression she has been trying harder to give herself credit lately. She recalls recently hearing Cyndi Lauper's "Girls Just Want to Have Fun" on the car radio and finding herself in awe of the song's timeless catchiness.

Suit: Balmain, Earrings and choker: Lana Jewelry (The Residency Experience), Necklaces: Gwen's own

"But then I started thinking," she says, in a goofy Cher Horowitz tone. "Like, I have a few of those myself." She talks of this realization as a genuine breakthrough, which is a little worrying for a woman who has sold 40 million records. No shit, she has a "few of those." More of them than Lauper, actually.

More new music is coming along slowly, but I've caught Stefani on a day when the horizon looks closer than usual, and while things haven't quite fallen into place yet, she's feeling more confident that they eventually will. "I'm at the end," she declares. "The idea of going for a session and not being with my kids or the idea of taking time away from Blake doesn't fuel my fire like it did two months ago. I need to decide, wrap it up, put out the project."

Crucially, there's no rush. The album will simply arrive sometime this year, tracklist and title currently undecided.

"You're talking to me at a weird transitional time," Stefani says repeatedly throughout our conversation, which sometimes takes on the cathartic tone of therapy. But having time in the first place is a new feeling.

Bracelet and choker: Dana Kemp (The Residency Experience), Obsession necklace: Lidow Archive, Gold necklaces: Gwen's own, Clothing: Blumarine, Boots: Philipp Plein

NO DOUBT WERE A BAND for nine years before getting on the radio. Enough time for Stefani and bassist Tony Kanal to be in a long term relationship then break up and write a whole hit album about it. All of the Fleetwood Mac drama was resolved pre-fame, which enabled the group to capitalize on the surprise success of Tragic Kingdom singles like "Don't Speak" and "Just a Girl" with a world tour that lasted almost three years. Three more albums followed, and Stefani has reinforced her household name status in every decade since, launching a solo career and multiple fashion lines while never totally cutting the cord from her original musical project.

In other words, record executives have been dictating Stefani's schedule since the mid-'90s. She even sings about it on Love. Angel. Music. Baby opener "What You Waiting For," in which her biological clock ticks like a metronome. Interscope Co-Founder Jimmy Iovine, who discovered No Doubt and continued to work with Stefani on her solo output, was quick to point out that his client's prime childbearing years were also her last opportunity to cross over into pop stardom. And after her first record went number one, it only made sense to lay down some new tracks straight away.

"Whether or not I get the response that I would hope to get — because that's what I'm used to, because I'm so damn spoiled and I've tasted the blood of success — I still got to do the creative journey."

"I had the baby, the first one, and it was only like eight weeks after I had him, that Jimmy was calling me saying, you've got to go in the studio with Akon," Stefani recalls cheerfully. "Like, Akon wants to work with you. Like, no, I'm nursing my baby. But then I couldn't say no." And then? "We wrote 'Sweet Escape.'" And then? "I went on a world tour." And then? "In the month that I got home from that one hundred and whatever shows it was, I got pregnant with Zuma. So then that was that." (It wasn't. Admittedly: "Then it was like, No Doubt, let's do another record.")

Things are different now: "You can just drop singles and you don't have to put a record out. But if you want to put a record out, you can work on it slowly." But even as she talks of slowing down, speculating that she might not even go on tour after the pandemic ends, in the next sentence Stefani's back to admitting that there's more work to be done, that she wants to write a couple more songs for her new record, "just to make sure."

Earrings: Lana Jewelry (The Residency Experience) Choker: Chanel, Necklaces: Gwen's own, Gloves: Laurel DeWitt, Top: Local Boogeyman

"The creation is the thing that fuels me so much," she says. "Whether or not I get the response that I would hope to get — because that's what I'm used to, because I'm so damn spoiled and I've tasted the blood of success — I still got to do the creative journey."

Like any good lyricist, she reaches out to her listener, hoping to convey a more universal point. "It's just probably the same for you as a writer," she guesses. "You know, it's the anticipation. You're in it now. You're getting the information. This is what you live for. You're doing the interview and then you're going to write it. And that's going to be the challenge."

GWEN STEFANI WAS PUTTING out diary entry pop when Olivia Rodrigo was still in diapers and Taylor Swift was but a humble Pennsylvania Christmas tree heiress. She struggles to pen lyrics that aren't confessional ("I'm not a creative writer when it comes to like, 'Oh, let's just write a sad song about something that didn't happen to me'"), and occasionally re-traumatizes herself when performing old hits. Return of Saturn deep cut "Dark Blue" triggers "crazy, just horrible" recollections of a past relationship. Even "Don't Speak" felt emotional onstage in Vegas.

But after releasing an excruciating divorce album, This Is What the Truth Feels Like, in 2016, Stefani is back to writing happy songs only. She's getting married, after all. She won't be releasing any of her trademark breakup anthems anytime soon. "Girl," she laughs, "I think I've had my fair share."

Bow: Laurel DeWitt, Earrings: Lana Jewelry (The Residency Experience), Bracelets: Dena Kemp (The Residency Experience), Shirt: Vintage Archive, Dress: Erdem, Tights: Capezio, Shoes: Marc Jacobs (Lidow Archive)

Stefani and Shelton's relationship has puzzled some fans. Shelton, a country radio phenomenon, never endorsed Trump in the 2016 election, but he did come close. Earlier this year, he was criticized for releasing a song called "Minimum Wage," about finding small joys during periods of economic struggle, at the peak of a recession.

Is Gwen Stefani a Republican now? She's not offended by the question, or really anything I have to ask. She has been famous for so long that she expects and even embraces scrutiny. "If you're going to be a star, that's what you get," she says. "You know what I mean? You get what you get, and you don't get upset, at all."

As for her politics, it's read-between-the-lines."I can see how people would be curious, but I think it's pretty obvious who I am," she says. "I've been around forever. I started my band because we were really influenced by ska, which was a movement that happened in the late '70s, and it was really all about people coming together. The first song I ever wrote was a song called 'Different People,' which was on the Obama playlist, you know, a song about everyone being different and being the same and loving each other. The very first song I wrote."

One of very few multi-racial bands playing stadium shows for hoardes of American teenangers in the 1990s, No Doubt did very literally embody those second-wave ska principles of inclusion. Stefani even wore bindis and saris on stage as a symbol of cultural exchange with Kanal, who is Indian-American, briefly kickstarting a white girl facial jewelry trend that it's safe to say would not fly in 2021.

Rings (left): Dena Kemp (The Residency Experience)

"The Specials and The Selecter and all those groups, and what they were doing in the late '70s was this whole kind of anti-racism, we come together, Black and white ska movement," Stefani elaborates on the band's founding principles. "And we were sort of echoing that in the '80s when we did it, we were like the third generation of ska."

Ska she's always happy to discuss, but Stefani was brought up to keep her electoral preferences personal, and that rule has held for her entire career. "The whole point of voting, is you have this personal space to feel how you feel," she explains. "I use my platform to share my life story and to engage with people and to exchange whatever gift I was giving. I'm not a political science major. I am not that person. Everyone knows that. So why would I even talk about it?"

"I don't need to go on Instagram and say 'girl power.' I just need to live and be a good person and leave a trail of greatness behind me."

It never has been. Looking back, it's weird that "Just a Girl" is so integral to Gwen Stefani's brand. She's never written anything else with remotely the same message, and or publicly identified as a feminist. To Stefani, it's just a song about growing up, and "all of a sudden you realize your gender." It wasn't meant as a protest or anthem: in fact, being her breakout hit, she didn't think anyone other than her bandmates and some local fans would ever hear it.

"I don't even know if I knew what feminist at that time was," she says. "I was very sheltered growing up with my family. I wasn't political. I wasn't angry." Even now: "I don't need to go on Instagram and say 'girl power.' I just need to live and be a good person and leave a trail of greatness behind me. Stop talking about it and stop trying to bully everybody about it. Just do it. And that's how I feel like I've lived my life."

WHEN STEFANI WAS GROWING up in 1970s Anaheim, her father got a job doing market research for Yamaha, which required frequent business trips to Japan. He'd bring home Sanrio toys, as well as anecdotes about the Tokyo district of Harajuku, where teenagers were dressing like Elvis, and "taking all these American things and making them Japanese." His daughter was entranced. "He would be telling me these things my whole life, like my whole life. I had a deep fascination."

So when No Doubt played Japan in 1996, Stefani describes, "It was a pretty big deal for me." The tour was the first time she'd traveled outside of the United states, save one trip to Italy when she was 21. "I just was inspired," she recalls. "It's a world away. And at that time it was even further, because you couldn't see it on the internet. I don't think a younger generation can even imagine what it's like to not have access to the world."

From then on, Japan became one of Stefani's biggest career motivations, especially when it came to her solo albums. If she could just write more hits, she'd get to tour there again, see the street style, visit the vintage stores. "If you read the actual lyrics [in 'What You Waiting For?'], it talks about being a fan of Japan and how if I do good, I get to go back there," she says.

In the meantime, she decided she'd bring Japan to Los Angeles. "I never got to have dancers with No Doubt. I never got to change costumes. I never got to do all of those fun girl things that I always love to do. So I had this idea that I would have a posse of girls — because I never got to hang with girls — and they would be Japanese, Harajuku girls, because those are the girls that I love. Those are my homies. That's where I would be if I had my dream come true, I could go live there and I could go hang out in Harajuku."

Earrings, bracelets and rings: Dena Kemp (The Residency Experience, Gold Necklaces: Gwen's own, Top: Local Boogeyman, Pants: GCDS, Shoes: Valentino

Dancers Maya Chino ("Love"), Jennifer Kita ("Angel"), Rino Nakasone ("Music") and Mayuko Kitayama ("Baby") would go on to accompany Stefani for her next two album cycles, dancing on stage and in her videos while also making silent, but very well-dressed, awards show appearances. Kita, who'd grown up in LA, visited Japan for the first time on Stefani's tour.

In a 2006 interview with Blender magazine, comedian Margaret Cho compared the Harajuku Girls to a minstrel show. The backlash against them has been consistent ever since. Stefani, to this day, disagrees.

"If we didn't buy and sell and trade our cultures in, we wouldn't have so much beauty, you know?" she says. "We learn from each other, we share from each other, we grow from each other. And all these rules are just dividing us more and more."

Hello Kitty merch was harder to come by when she was a kid, but in other ways, life felt easier. "I think that we grew up in a time where we didn't have so many rules. We didn't have to follow a narrative that was being edited for us through social media, we just had so much more freedom."

Earrings, bracelets and rings: Dena Kemp (The Residency Experience), Necklaces: Gwen's own, Dress: GCDS, Shirt: Faith Connexion, Tights: Capezio, Shoes: Marc Jacobs (Lidow Archive)

Stefani's penchant for rule breaking has always been apparent in her music as much as her aesthetic. Genre-wise, she's a randomista. The chart success of No Doubt's bouncing ska beats felt like an accidental post-grunge-era glitch in the matrix, and it's insane to this day that one of Stefani's biggest solo hits samples "If I Were a Rich Man" from Fiddler on the Roof, by way of '90s British dancehall duo Louchie Lou & Michie One. That another, "Wind It Up," features earnest Sound of Music yodeling.

"I just make up whatever comes out," Stefani says of her songwriting process. "I don't even know where it comes from. I feel like it just comes from the source. It's not trained, and it's not perfect, it's just real."

She looks back on the Love.Angel.Music.Baby era as unusually experimental and artistically fulfilling. "It was just a really incredible time, and a very creative time. I feel like it was just a really creative project."

STEFANI VIEWS HER CAREER success as mostly a matter of luck. Pop stardom is God-given and mysterious."Because the fact I made it, it doesn't make any sense," she reflects. "It's written in the stars. You know what I'm saying? I'm not the most talented. I'm not the most pretty. I'm not the most smart. None of those things. But I made it, right?"

Clothing: Blumarine, Bracelet and choker: Dena Kemp (The Residency Experience), Obsession necklace: Lidow Archive, Gold necklaces: Gwen's Own

Every week on The Voice she watches objectively gifted musicians fail at becoming artists. "I watched people that went through that without seeing their faces, without knowing what color they are. And I chose the ones that pulled my heartstrings. And even though they were so talented, none of them have had careers. It's made me look at myself and even feel even more amazed by the fact that anyone cared or cares."

If all of this is actually so out of her control, then Stefani feels safe stepping back a little bit. "I don't have that fuel in me like I used to, because I already won," she says. And now she has other victories in mind. "Being a good human, a good mother. I want to have a good marriage. I want to be a good wife. I want to win at finding peace. I want to win at finding other hobbies that I'm good at."

But at the same time? "If I'm inspired, I'm going to try to do something with that inspiration." That's the most fun part: whatever else comes after has always been an amazing bonus.

The "Let Me Reintroduce Myself" era, whatever form it may eventually take, isn't a desperate grab at former glory. It's Stefani refusing to evolve for the sake of it. She's poking fun at the whole idea of having to compete with past personas alongside current ones, while acknowledging the fact she's grateful to still be in the game at all.

"You don't know what you're doing," she says, somehow both confident and resigned. "You're a cartoon of yourself at this point, and you don't know what people are thinking. They're wondering, what? Why are you still here? And I'm like, I don't know. They said I could be here. So I'm here!"

Photography: Jamie Nelson Styling: Nicola Formichetti Hair: Sami Knight Makeup: Michael Anthony Nails: Carolyn Orellana Wardrobe director: Marta Del Rio Production: Katrina Kudlick Digitatech: Sean MacGillivray Logo design: Luca Devinu Story: Kat Gillespie

FROM YOUR SITE ARTICLES

[jobrookekarev]

I Remember it All Too Well

Chapter One of Six: Invisible String Tying You to Me

Words: 2200

Summary: Alex knew from the moment he signed the divorce papers that leaving Jo and Seattle was the worst mistake of his life. As Alex works his way back to Seattle, he sees Jo again four times before she allows him back into her life. 

Or

The four times Alex saw Jo after their divorce, and the one time they finally got back together with her, plus a soft epilogue.

Fandom: Grey's Anatomy

Relationship: Alex Karev/Jo Wilson.

Characters: Jo Wilson, Alex Karev, Helen Karev, Eli Stevens, Alexis Stevens.

Rating: General Audiences

Additional Tags: Regret, Longing, Pining, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Foster Kid, Adoption, the Pandemic.

Read at AO3

Read at FFN

AN: Will update weekly

……………………………………………………………………

Alex was in the kitchen getting dinner ready. It was spaghetti night which means twice the mess as usual nights as he dumped the first jar of spaghetti sauce into the huge pot on the stove. 

“Here you go, Daddy,” Eli said, handing him the other jar of spaghetti sauce.

“Thanks, bud,” Alex smiled at Eli, his little co-chef tonight.

Eli ran off to get the noodles as Alex put the other jar of sauce in the pot and turned on the burner to simmer.

Izzie always went all out with the homemade sauce and everything, but Alex made a version of spaghetti sauce that he and Jo used to make. It was basically just, roasted ground beef, two different kinds of store-bought spaghetti sauce, and a dash of fresh garlic and hot pepper flakes. Izzie hated it, but the twins absolutely loved it and she wasn’t here to tell him what to do. So Daddy’s spaghetti sauce it was.

“Alex!” He heard his mother call out to him from the office down the hall. “There's something wrong with my video call!”

“Just a second mom,” Alex said as he put the can of sauce in the sink and wiped his hands. 

“Eli hold off on the noodles and don’t do anything in the kitchen until I get back,” Alex said, taking the pack of noodles from him.

“Okay,” Eli said as he scurried off to join his sister on the carpet as she played with their tablet. It was a little pre-dinner technology time and they were completely engrossed in it and didn't even notice as Alex left the room. 

He walked down the hall to the little office Helen had in the corner of the house. Ever since the pandemic started Alex had moved back to Iowa to keep an eye on his mother during the lockdown. The library had closed and Helen struggled to maintain her schedule. Having Alex there had helped as he set her up with her therapist two times a week and she was able to help the kids with their school work in place of her work at the library. It wasn’t perfect, but they made do.

Izzie wasn't with them as the two of them were fighting. Izzie was upset he wouldn't call her his girlfriend, despite their relationship and the fact that they lived and parented together. Alex tried to love her and he wanted to make it work, but he couldn't just jump all in. Izzie wanted to pick up where they left off. She wanted them to be together, so she could say she had the perfect life; a partner, and kids, and everything. However, Alex wasn't ready to fully love her like that again. Truth be told he was still in love with Jo. He needed time to let go of Jo and grieve the loss of his marriage to her. 

The pandemic had put a strain on all of that and Izzie had opted to stay back in Kansas, although she called every day to talk to the kids. As Izzie continued to work through the pandemic, Alex was left alone to parent the twins when the schools closed. Before the shutdown, Alex hadn't been able to find a job and was just subbing for the Ped’s attendings at the hospital Izzie worked at. With the quarantine that had transitioned to the occasional Zoom call consult and now he was mostly just a stay-at-home dad to the twins. 

“I had the email on the computer and I clicked the link, but then this little box popped up and asked for a password, but I've never used a password before?” Helen explained as she pointed to the computer set up on the desk for a video call with her doctor. 

She sat back in the chair and twisted her fingers as she looked up at the clock. It was five minutes past five and he could tell she was getting upset that the call hadn't gone as planned throwing off her schedule. She was going to therapy twice a week and had an extra doctor’s video appointment every other week, on Friday evenings. 

“Okay, let me see,” Alex said as he pulled up the zoom meeting on the computer. He double checked the internet settings and went back to the original email. Alex quickly read it over. It was the standard zoom email with time and place and the passcode at the bottom. Alex clicked the link and waited for it to start up. 

The Zoom started up but prompted him for the password and Alex quickly input the code and the zoom meeting connection started up on the screen.

“Thank you, Alex, but you should go,” Helen urged as she put a hand on his chest and gently pushed him back. 

Alex stepped away to give his mother her privacy, but then the video connected and a baby appeared on the screen. The baby couldn't have been more than six months old as the camera was angled to the floor so they could see the baby sitting up on a blanket surrounded by toys. The baby smiled as soon as the video started. They locked eyes with Helen and babbled excitedly before leaning towards her. The baby excitedly babbled, as they seemed to recognize Helen and she smiled as she looked at them.

“Hello, little one,” Helen said as she leaned forward and waved at the baby. “I’m so happy to see you, but where’s your Mommy?”

Alex stepped forward and smiled as he watched them interact. He wasn't surprised that the doctor put their computer on their coffee table and did Zoom meetings with their baby. They were in the middle of a pandemic and he had done the same with the twins when he consulted for a few Ped’s cases at the hospital in Kansas City. Then he recognized the couch behind the baby. It was the white couch that Jo had bought for him with his money that she won after the ping pong match. The room around the baby was the loft in Seattle.

“Hey, do you see Grandma?” Jo's sweet voice came through the line as she sat down on the floor next to the baby and picked them up before sitting them in her lap. “I was worried when you were late. I was just about to call you, but I couldn’t find my phone... Alex?” 

Alex stood there dumbfounded as they locked eyes. Jo was just as shocked to see him as he was, but only for a moment before Jo grew angry and reached forward to end the call.

“No, Josephine, please wait, he's leaving,” Helen pleaded with her but it was too late as Jo closed the laptop and ended the call.

Helen turned around and glared at him. “I told you to go.” 

“No you can't do that, you can't just tell me to leave when you've been video chatting with my ex-wife and her baby?” Alex said, he tried not to get too upset, but he couldn't help it.

Alex just stood there shocked as he thought about Jo and the baby in her lap, video chatting with his mother. This had to have been an ongoing thing as Helen had it scheduled out every other Friday for weeks. He remembered walking past the door one time and hearing baby giggles, he brushed it off as just weird feedback, but there was a baby. 

It was Jo’s baby. He didn't even know how she’s had a baby. She couldn't have been pregnant when he left because the baby was around six months old and he'd only divorce her five months and twenty-one days ago. So unless she’d given birth right after he left Seattle the baby wasn’t theirs and he’d certainly know if Jo was nine months pregnant before he left. The tally in his head of how long it had been since he left her was a constant reminder of the life he'd left behind. 

“Just because you cut Josephine out of your life doesn't mean that I have to,” Helen said, raising her voice as she twisted her fingers. “When you left she had no one, no family, I still remember the day she called me to say that you had divorced her. Instead of hearing it from you, I heard from my daughter-in-law that my son had two kids and an ex-wife in Kansas and that he was divorcing her to be with them.”

“So what, you just took her side in everything?” Alex said, getting defensive as he crossed his arms.

“I'm not on anybody's side,” Helen insisted, getting more upset. “I let you come stay with me and, I love you, Alex I do, and I love your twins, and I love being a Grandma to them, but I love having Josephine as my daughter-in-law, too. Before your divorce, Josephine and I called each other twice a month and after you left her I continued to call her, she never stopped taking my calls, unlike how you did. It's part of my routine and I'm so gracious that she still lets me be a part of her life. Her one condition was that I couldn't tell you that we were still in contact and I respected that.”

Alex sat down in the chair across from his mom as he processed the information. He didn't know anything about Jo’s life now. Meredith wouldn't tell him anything when they talk, despite how he asked occasionally. 

“I'm sorry, you're right and you have every right to keep in contact with Jo,” Alex said as Helen nodded and relaxed back into her chair. “How is she? The baby, is it hers?”

“Sort of, he’s her foster baby and she’s trying to adopt him. Josephine picked him up from the fire station after his birth parents dropped him off there and she’s been fostering him ever since. His name is Asher, he just turned six months old last week,” Helen said as she smiled and pulled out her phone, she quickly pulled up a picture of them and handed her phone to Alex. 

Jo was holding Asher and they were pressed up against each other cheek to cheek. Jo had such a wide smile across her face, one that he had seen many times when she was joyously happy and it made him smile too. They had been trying for a baby before he left and it made his heartache, despite how happy he was for her. 

“He’s really cute,” Alex said handing the phone back to his mother, but the image remained burned into his mind. 

“Yeah he's such a sweetheart too, always babbling on about something,” Helen said as she looks down at the picture. 

“Why don't you text Jo and tell her that I'm gone. I won't interrupt your video chats again, maybe she'll call back,” Alex said as he got up and went to the door.

“Thank you, Alex,” Helen said standing up and reaching to put a hand on his cheek. 

Alex just nodded and left. He went back down the hall and went back to the pot of sauce, but he couldn't get his mind off the image of Jo and Asher. He looked over at the twins. They were completely engrossed in the game they were playing. It was this water game where they had to draw a path to give water to an alligator so they could take a shower. Alexis was directing Eli's hand and trying to draw the path over him as they argued over the right path for the water. 

“Alexis let your brother create the path for the water this time, you can do the next one,” Alex said to them as he turned the heat on the spaghetti sauce down as it had started bubbling over while he was gone. “But just five more minutes guys and then I need your help to set the table.”

“Okay,” They quickly replied in sync, but didn't look up from their game.

It was easy for Alex to step back into the role of father for his twins and focus on the life he had in front of him, but he couldn't get Jo off his mind. Alex started the water for the pasta set before he got out a stack of four plates and set them on the counter where the kids could reach them. Then he walked back down the hall. Alex pressed his ear up against the door as he heard Jo and Helen talking while Asher babbled in the background. He heard Jo laugh at something that Asher did and he took in a breath as a knot formed in his chest. 

He had regretted his decision to divorce Jo from the second he sent out the papers, but he was too much of a coward to take it back now. Alex loved Alexis and Eli with every fiber of his being and he didn't regret a second of his life with them. He just wished he could go back and tell Jo about them. He wished he would have asked her to co-parent them with him. He wished he would have done all this with her, but he didn't and he couldn't take it back now. So he just stood there and he closed his eyes as he listened to her laugh.

[fractallogic]

Just in case you were curious, I can hold a (forearm, because in addition to my wrists being cranky, there’s something lacking in the stability of my elbows?????? Idfk) plank for almost exactly a minute

There is nothing to do with this information except use it against myself when my mom makes me feel bad because I’m “fat” (usually indirectly through my brain, but also sometimes when my stepdad talks about one of his relatives who was 5’5” and 185 lbs and she goes “WHOA HE WAS FAT” and “I go mom that is exactly the size I am, am i fat” and she sits in silence and doesn’t make eye contact with me for the rest of the story)

Love the days when my brain rebels against everything I know to be true and starts saying asshole shit to me when I’m trying to RELAX with a NICE SHOWER and A CUP OF TEA and A CAT WHO KEEPS BITING ME WHEN I TRY TO PET HER and is like hey did you know you’ve put on >60 lbs in the last four-ish years and you don’t fit into a bunch of your clothes and you’ve split holes into three pairs of pants in the last couple months, and so you’re like well fuck off brain it’s directly attributable to the medication that I literally cannot sleep without and also lowkey the weight training you were doing, your mom is wrong and has instilled heavy fatphobic values in you, and other than a cholesterol score in the high-normal range that is also DIRECTLY ATTRIBUTABLE to the quetiapine, you are perfectly healthy (you know. physically.) and you have actual, tangible evidence that actually, you haven’t gained weight or changed shape in the last two-ish years, and people you trust (NOT your mom) agree that you are attractive and beautiful, including people like Artemis, who is obviously the only opinion who matters, and also who the fuck else do you know who will say “oh sure two-mile stroll to get ice cream? DONE” and also take a yoga class in the same day and can finally hold a side plank without truly excessive wobbling as of a couple months ago and a forearm plank for a minute at a time

So anyway I hate the perception of my body that I hold right now, especially because there is not a day that goes by where I’m not having to look at myself in my lil zoom box and do the mental gymnastics of “buddy it doesn’t MATTER what you look like because you just have to teach syntax/write a book/be a person right now” in the background of every single zoom interaction I have and I am frankly so TIRED

I guess this is something I should talk to my therapist about (she says, as she always does 12 hours after her most recent therapy appointment)

[thats-how-i-role]

Sea Salt By The Sea Shore

A/N: The title was funnier in my head. Also this technically goes with Day 6 but shhhhhh. I had to do research about SNOWBOARDING. Which I surprisingly knew even less about than I thought I did. For the record, this is a halfpipe.

They put in their headphones, swiftly as to not get Amalthea’s attention as she blabbered into. They tuned into the local news station, where the segment had just switched to sports. And once again, as they have been for weeks since the crash, Jem was the top story.

Regan, the stout news anchor began as a photo of Jem holding their first Olympic gold medal appeared next to him on screen. “Folks, today some news that shook the Olympic world to its core was announced. As twenty four year old Jemon Morale, who is known for being last Winter Olympics Gold Medallist in the halfpipe circuit, has announced the fact they are retiring.”

“Now, if you haven’t been following this story, let’s catch you up.” Regan switched to a different camera angle as a new graphic appeared by his face. One of Jem in their snowboarding gear after they qualified for the Olympics when they were nineteen. “Jemon Morale was America’s underdog in the 20xx Winter Olympics, as they rose to the spotlight as being the first ever openly non-binary Olympic athlete. Quickly, they received support particularly in millennial circles, and became an LGBTQ+ icon for the sports community. Although, nobody was expecting them to get gold on their first try- with a twenty to one Vegas odds- Jem succeeded on the half-pipe. Not only becoming the first non-binary gold medallist, but one of the youngest that the Olympic world has seen in the past few decades.”

Another camera angle, another graphic. This one showing Jem on their knees, crying as they were announced the winner of the gold medal. “Throughout the past two years, Jemon had appeared on multiple talk shows, and different sports magazines. As well as promoting brands anywhere between underarmour, and frosted flakes. They quickly became America’s favourite.”

Jem felt Amalthea, a slender woman with strawberry blonde hair and green eyes, tug one of their headphones out. “Jem, are you listening to me?”

“Yeah totally.” Jem replied, eyes still transfixed on the screen.

“What’d I say then?” Amalthea questioned.

“Yeah totally,” Jem answered, completely not paying attention to her.

As another graphic appeared, one with Jem shaking hands with fans right before the qualifiers started for this year. Jem remembered that day so clearly, and yet it felt like so long ago. Regan continued, “because of their massive success, Jem was the favourite to win all the way up to the Olympics. But at the criticized event of the semi-finals, horror struck the world.”

This time, the camera zoomed in on Regan’s face with no graphic. “The winds were high on the day of the semi-finals, where many experts say that it would’ve been safer had the event organizers post-poned the event until the winds had calmed down. Yet in the moment, the event continued. With Jemon’s points putting them in the lead, the final round was approaching.”

The frame had left Regan, showing the live feed their news reporter had caught on camera on that day. Regan’s continued the story through voice over as he narrated what happened, “As you can see, Jemon lined up and took off into the half pipe smoothly. Achieving their first fourteen hundred degree spin on the first jump.” Jem flipped their snowboard around 3 and a half times, flawlessly besides the dismount. The landing was shaky as the wind pushed them farther into the half pipe. “But as Jemon flew up in the air for their second fourteen hundred, tragedy struck.”

Suddenly, present Jem was flashed back into the memory. When they went up in the air, hearing the cheers from their adoring fans. Succeeding on completing the spins, Jem counted in their head. One, two, three, land.

Land. That’s all they had to do. But they couldn’t.

They felt themselves get pushed through the air, further towards the ledge of the halfpipe. Jem went into panic mode, and even though this only happened in a couple seconds, time slowed for them. They curled into themselves, grabbing the top of their snowboard to try and get their legs over the ledge so they could slide down the side of the halfpipe relatively unscathed.

It almost worked too.

Because Jem fell towards the ledge at sixty four kilometres per hour, and their weight easily increased to almost two hundred pounds with all their winter gear, it wasn’t going to be an easy crash in any sense of the word. Jem didn’t work fast enough as their back leg clipped the ledge, bending and snapping the opposite way of their knee. Jem, feeling the pain shoot up to their spine, let go of their board, and they got completely turned around.

All they remember before their head hit and skid down the side of the halfpipe was the pain.

The next thing Jem remembers after the crash was waking up a week later in the hospital, with screws and metal pins in their left leg.

Jem came back to their senses, in the town car as the crash was shown on their phone screen. The video ended after Jem’s face grinded against the snow, shattering their helmet and goggles. The doctors said that they were lucky they didn’t lose an eye. But it was hard for Jem to even imagine that they were lucky as they gazed at their casted leg.

The screen went back to Regan, with a photo of the paramedics loading Jem into their ambulance. “After much deliberation of Jem’s injuries, it was leaked from an inside source that they were going to need to go through extensive physical therapy if they wanted to even walk properly again. The crash left Jem’s hip dislocated, their shin was shattered and their knee was completely torn out of its socket. Not to mention the torn ligaments and strained muscles. All of which were in Jemon’s left leg.”

The next camera angle featured the photo of Jem last night, standing at a podium with press surrounding them. Regan continued with, “Last night, Jemon gave this statement regarding their future in their career.”

Jem didn’t think they looked half as distraught as they did getting up on the podium. Jem began their speech, “Thank you one and all for coming tonight. And thank you for your hopes and prayers for me and my family as we pushed through these trying times over the past couple months. But as my recovery continues, and after getting a second and third opinion from trusted physicians, I am saying that I will never be able to compete again. I will continue my physical therapy in another facility down south. I’m sorry to all my fans,” at this point Jem’s voice began cracking the slightest bit, “I’m sorry to all those who supported me in achieving my dream. And from the bottom of my heart, thank you for making my dream come true. Even for a little while.”

The camera panned back to Regan, who had a solemn look on his face. “A teary eyed statement from Jemon Morale, and what will probably be their last public statement for a long time. I do want to say on behalf of this network, it was a pleasure covering your journey. We wish you all the best. In other news...”

Amalthea had finally ripped the phone out of Jem’s hands, effectively tearing the earbud out of Jem’s ear as well. “What the hell Mal?” Jem yelled, rubbing their ear to soothe the pain.

“You are the worst glutton for punishment I have ever met Morale.” Amalthea criticized, smacking them in the arm. “Anyways, Jimmy Kimmel wanted to to see if you could make it-“

“No.” Jem answered.

Amalthea flicked them in the nose, “I’m not letting you become a hermit down here. People want to hear from you Jem!”

“You’re trying to come up with things so I can keep paying you to do your job.” Jem stated, starting to toy with their cane. “The job which you’re terrified of losing because now that I am a washed up, cold, son of a bitch, I don’t really have a need for you anymore.”

Amalthea gritted her teeth but kept her voice as calm as she could. “I’m trying to give your fans what they want. We used to both want that.”

She stared Jem down to the point where guilt began to weigh in their shoulders. After a moment Jem sighed, “Fine. Set me up with Jimmy in a month, I just got here and don’t want to leave so soon.”

Jem looked out their window, as they passed by a boardwalk. This sunshine state was much different than what Jem was used to. No snow, and a fresh smell of the sea. And with that small inspiration, Jem got an idea.

They knocked on the window separating them from their driver, “Thorne, pull in here. I wanna go for a walk.”

Their driver nodded as Jem unbuckled their seat belt and readied their cane. Amalthea’s eyes widened, but really didn’t want to fight about this. So instead she just said, “Try and be back in ten. And take in some of the sights, maybe it’ll remove the stick shoved up your ass.”

Jem chuckled, opening the door. “Thanks Mal.”

With that, Jem left their town car. The boardwalk was alive with tourists and music. The sun beaming down on everyone was relaxing, although it was quite overbearing for Jem who had spent most of their life surrounded by the snow.

Leaning half their weight on their cane, they made their way up the wooden platform. They silently hoped that the sunglasses on their face would be enough to hide their identity. Although somehow, even here Jem’s face had graced some newsstands. But this was going to be a fresh start for them.

Right?

Wrong.

As they kept to the side of the boardwalk, they watched as the waved floated below them. The sun shining off the ocean was absolutely breathtaking. They couldn’t help but feel like they were at peace. But all good things must come to an end.

“Hey!” Someone shouted at Jem. Jem turned towards the yelling, and saw three, burly men approaching them. “You’re that guy, right? The snowboarder.”

Jem nodded, giving the men a thin lipped smile, “Yep, that’s me. Are you guys fans?”

The aggressive manner in how this man and his friends cornered Jem into the railing was telling them the exact opposite. But the man kept with a large, but obviously sarcastic smile.

“Kind of, give or take.” The man said, taking a puff from his cigarette. “I really thought you had some potential kid. You were truly one of a kind.” There was a moment of silence, that Jem was about to thank the guy in but then he continued, “I even put some money down on you.”

Shit.

Jem put the hand they didn’t have gripping their cane up defensively, “Okay, I see how it is.”

“Do you?” The guy dropped his cigarette on the would and put it out with his boot. “Because, I couldn’t get my son the game he wanted because of you.”

To sass or not to sass, that is the question. And unfortunately for Jem, since their accident they’ve been leaning more towards the former. “Buddy, it sounds like if you couldn’t afford buying something for your kid, then you had no business in putting your money down elsewhere. You cared more about getting more money then making your son happy.”

With that, the guy’s face fell. Fury is becoming etched into his features, but Jem continued. “Your deadend job isn’t paying you enough, or maybe you’re just lazy and refuse to ask for more hours. Maybe you’re just a coward, who thinks it’s unmanly to ask for help.”

Jem laughed to themselves, before delivering the killing blow, “The truth is, you’re emasculated when your pride takes a blow. And because you’re that sensitive, I may not have a gender, but somehow I’m still twice the man you’ll ever be.”

Now, in an hour after all this unfolds if you asked Jem if they regretted their actions here, they’d reply, “no, not really.” Despite any logical person would say yes.

The burly guy nodded to his friends, who immediately closed in on Jem. Jem instinctively tucked their bad leg behind their good one and leaned back towards the boardwalk railing. They deserved this, they know that. So they were gonna roll with the hits.

One of the friends snatched Jem’s cane from them, throwing them off balance. Jem quickly grabbed onto the railing, as the guy with their cane hit them in the stomach with it. Jem’s only response was a grunt.

A crowd began to form around them, some people taking video and Jem knew that surely enough this would be their next headline. The friend took Jem’s cane and tossed it over the side of the boardwalk, into the water. Jem tried to spin around and grab it, as somebody came up from behind Jem and knocked them over.

It was difficult for Jem to process what was happening, even as they went crashing head first into the water. They quickly were able to spin right side up, but couldn’t keep their head above water. Every desperate claw towards the surface, every time they tried to take a gulp of air, it was to no avail.

Jem’s vision began to blur, in a sense it was peaceful. As if this was what Jem was waiting for. After all, hadn’t Jem done everything they were meant to do? Their journey in life was over, their dream destroyed because of one mistake. Everything was over.

Or had it just begun?

Jem felt arms come around them and pull them up towards the surface. They gasped for air, coughing up some of the water. The strong arms wrapped around them gently patted their chest as Jem heaved.

“It’s all right mate, I got you.” The voice said. Jem peeked over their shoulder to see a man, with dark hair and green eyes. Not far off in the distance was a small boat, and Jem felt a small rush through their veins.

Yes, the next adventure had just begun.