#tw covid lockdown

[pride-stars]

Lockdowngenic : An origin related to the lockdowns at the start of the pandemic.

[chestersbraincell]

Thinking about the type of kid/early teen I used to be. The kind, caring, sociable, helpful, empathetic to a fault hard-worker.

And thinking about how she was emotionally beaten out of me by force.

And thinking about how she’s probably that odd ache in my chest that refuses to go away no matter how hard I try to make myself jaded to protect both her and myself.

[alto-viola]

Is it rational to be scared of the new covid variant and another potential shutdown or am I just traumatized?

[chickpea0]

how many lockdown kids do you think are gonna grow up to be regressors do you think. mustve felt like you were 10 forever yet not experience it at all, then all of a sudden youre a teenager and time moves so weirdly

[cellythefloshie]

;; Locked In    by cellythefloshie

Summary: When the NHL season is abruptly halted by a global pandemic, and you find yourself sharing your tiny apartment with your brother's rookie teammate, Quinn Hughes. Kinks & TW: Tanev Sister Reader, Forced Proximity, Secret Hook-up/Romance, 2019-2020 Season, Covid-19 Lockdown, Hints of Mild Dominance from Quinn, Mild Alcohol Consumption, Dry Humping, Vaginal Fingering, A Little Angsty (unresolved). Word Count: 4k+ A/N: I hadn't planned to post anything in January. I was just going to post my Best of 2024 and be done until February. BUT then I decided I wanted to challenge myself a little. I wanted to write for a player I thought I would never write for. AND then I was writing for a time I never thought I would write before because, of course, his rookie season had to be during the pandemic. Please be gentle with me. I took a lot of creative liberties here, but I hope you all enjoy.

“Why does he have to stay here?”

The tension in your shoulders grew as you glared up at your brother Chris. If your words hadn’t been clear enough in telling him just how displeased you were with his proposition, your body language would have to help get the point across. 

“It’s just for a few days until they get everything figured out,” Chris replied, brushing off your annoyance with a casual shrug with an ease that left a bad taste in your mouth—and it really shouldn’t have. As your big brother, he had years of practice in the art of convincing you to do things you didn’t want to do. 

Sighing, you passed Chris and at the player your brother was hoping you’d welcome into the small one-bedroom apartment you called home. Quinn Hughes, the team's rookie defenseman. Tall, and handsome, you had done your best to keep your distance from him when you had met once before—knowing yourself too well to trust that you would behave around a guy like him. 

He was shy back then and seemed just as timid as he stood awkwardly in the hallway, pretending not to hear the conversation you were having with Chris. Quinn kept his head down, his warm brown eyes locked on the floor like a sad, pound puppy that nobody wanted, with his hands shoved into the pockets of his team branded hoodie. 

Forcing a smile, your gaze focused back up on your brother, and his toothy grin that was always just enough to convince you. 

“It’s bad enough that there’s some illness going around that’s so serious that they halted the season and the world feels like it’s ending,” you began, “but now you’re locking me in my apartment with the team’s rookie?”

“I can hear you, you know?” Quinn spoke up from the hallways, his gaze raising from the floor for the first time since he had arrived. 

Your heart beat hastened, and it pounded so strongly you could feel it against the delicate flesh of your throat. It raced so quickly; you thought it might burst through your chest as a wave of heated embarrassment washed over you. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” you tried to play it cool, but if Quinn had reached out and felt just how sweaty your hands had become, he would know just how much of a facade it was. “Why can’t he stay with you?” You cocked your head as you brought your arms up to cross over your chest, begging him to get to the point he was trying to make. 

“The kids’ daycare is closed. Mom’s flying in before things get worse–but he’s my responsibility since we already got Petey home to Sweden and they don’t want any of the guy alone for-” Chris cut himself off, as if there was more to say but he didn’t want you to hear it. You hung on his words for a moment, ready to question him on it, but you didn’t. You knew better than to question your big brother. 

“Does mom think it’s a good idea to stick me in an apartment with him?” You challenged him in a last ditch effort to try to get out of the familial obligation of helping out your brother when he needed it. 

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” His smile grew wider as he placed Quinn’s bag down on the floor just inside the door. 

“You know,” you sighed, leaning against your door, giving Quinn just enough room to come inside, “instead of flying mom home, Quinn could have helped with the kids.” It was your final, half-serious attempt to escape the arrangement, but it only made your brother laugh. 

“Thanks, Sis,” he said simply, ignoring your every attempt to say no before he was gone, leaving you and Quinn alone in your apartment. 

You lingered by the door for a moment, your head resting against the surface as you let out a steady breath. Maybe if Chris had given you a heads up, you might have felt differently about the entire situation, but your place was in no condition for a houseguest. Dishes had piled up in the sink, your laundry was half folded on the couch, and you were in the middle of rewatching your favorite television series on Netflix as a way to avoid the hell that was going on in the world. And Quinn, he was just going to have to accept all of it. 

But only for a few days. 

With a sigh, you pushed back from the door and forced a smile. “Sorry about the mess,” you told him as you moved to the couch and gathered armfuls of clothes. “You can set yourself up on the couch. Put on anything you like. I’ll get this all out of the way.”

“Do you need a hand?” Quinn offered, and you almost flinched. You hadn’t expected him to be so nice. 

“No, no, I’m fine,” you assured, carrying the clothes into your bedroom before throwing them onto your bed. You would deal with them later. First, you would have to deal with Quinn. 

Leaving your room, you shut the door firmly behind you. “That’s my room,” you gestured to the closed door, “it’s off limits to you unless stated otherwise. Obviously, you’re in the living room, which also happens to be the kitchen and the dining room. And through there is the bathroom, and if you can manage all of that without getting lost, tomorrow I can show you where the laundry room is down the hall.”

It wasn’t much of a tour, but the apartment was small. Surely if Quinn needed anything, he would figure it out—and you wanted nothing more than to retreat and hide away from the awkward situation your brother had forced you into. Maybe it made you seem harsh—or maybe it didn’t, because Quinn met your words with a soft smile and a quiet thanks before he settled in on the sofa, making himself at home. 

“If you need anything,” you started softly, your words becoming heavy with a sigh, “just knock.”

Slowly, you slipped away into the sanctuary of your bedroom, your lips moving in a whisper of a prayer as you began to put your laundry into its place. “It’s only for a few days…”

Days turned into weeks. And as the world’s condition only seemed to worsen, necessity foiled your determination to keep Quinn at arm’s length. You could only take so much solitude in your room before the silence became unbearable. While you had movies on your laptop and video chats with your friends to keep you entertained, you needed real human contact to keep yourself from insanity. Slowly, you began to share meals together, and small talk that slowly grew beyond hockey and the relationship you had with your brothers Chris and Brandon. And to your surprise, he wasn’t the worst house guest. Quinn was self-sufficient, considerate, and–while you would never admit it to Chris–the only person keeping you from losing your mind. 

“Do you maybe want to watch a movie together, or something?” you asked him one night after dinner, your tone as casual as you could muster. 

Quinn’s attention snapped to you, shifting from his phone that lit up the surprise that overtook his features. “Yeah, sure. I can set it up. Anything you want to watch?”

You shrugged as you tucked the last of the clean dishes away. “Just put on whatever. I’ll pop some popcorn.”

Settling on the couch minutes later, you place the bowl of popcorn in the space between you. As the movie played, the distance between you and Quinn seemed to shrink with each handful. You felt the warmth of his body radiating from him, and the softness of his hands as they collided with yours on the hunt for just another handful of popcorn. It was a subtle, but unignorable touch that made your pulse quicken. 

Biting down on your lower lip, you brought your hands back to rest on your lap, and you glanced at him from the corner of your eyes. Quinn was focused on the movie, his sharp jawline tense as he enjoyed the last handful of popcorn. His eyes didn’t hold the heavy sadness they had when he had arrived at your apartment weeks ago, but seemed to have a hint of a smile in them as he laughed at one of the jokes as it played out on screen. 

You smiled softly to yourself. 

You liked his laugh, and maybe it was just the weeks of isolation consuming you, but… he wasn’t bad company at all. 

“What?” Quinn’s question sent a nervous jolt through you. He had caught you looking. 

“Nothing,” you said quickly, trying to play it cool. 

The couch shifted as Quinn turned his body away from the movie, giving his attention to you as he relaxed back against the arm of the couch. “Tell me.”

For a moment, you thought about ignoring him. That the two of you could ignore what had just happened and just get lost in the movie until the crack in your hardened facade was forgotten. But his stare left you giddy, and there was no hiding the smile that began to blossom over your features. 

“You’re not a bad guy to have around, Hughes,” you finally admitted, “and I’m glad you’re here.”

A smile, genuine smile spread across his face as he reached up to push his thick brunette hair from his eyes, “your brother thought it would be best for you–”

Your brows furrowed, your question leaving your lips in a firm question before he could continue, “I’m sorry, what?” “He didn’t want you to be alone during all of this,” Quinn explained, his voice soft and sheepish, as if he knew he shouldn’t have been telling you anything. 

You leaned back against the opposite arm of the couch, your legs coming up to spread across the cushions and dragging along his leg slowly, accidentally, until you were comfortable there. “That lying bastard,” you laughed in disbelief, “he told me you being here was for your sake!”

Quinn’s laughter joined yours, warm and contagious as it created a symphony with yours. “We’ll have to give him hell for it later… but it hasn’t been all that bad, has it?”

You shook your head slowly, a silent admission that the weeks you had spent together in forced proximity weren’t all that bad. Standing up, you moved to the fridge, finding two tall beer bottles in the back. You carried one in each hand back to the couch, offering one to him as you stood just behind him, your body leaning against the back of the couch. 

“I can think of maybe two people I’d rather be stuck here with,” you joked lightly. 

“Ouch,” Quinn teased as he twisted off the cap and took a long, satisfying sip. 

“Don’t lie,” you told him. “I know you’d rather be at home with your brothers.”

“My brothers aren’t as easy on the eyes as you are,” Quinn said quickly, without hesitation. But then his face flooded with color, and his eyes went wide. Just as quickly as his words had been said, Quinn had realized they had not just been the thoughts reserved for his head. “Let’s pretend I didn’t just say that, okay?”

You raised your brow, challenging him with a smile as you asked, “What would be the fun in that?” 

Quinn’s smile grew. 

Your brother had thrown you both into this situation. You, his sister, cooped up with him, the team’s rookie defenceman, during a global pandemic that left you both isolated and alone. What Chris had expected to happen? You didn’t know. But it was only a matter of time before the lines you had created became blurred. 

After a long, satisfying sip of beer to boost your confidence, you leaned forward and placed it down on the coffee table. Licking your lips slowly, you hesitated, your mind screaming no, but your body telling you yes, as you climbed into Quinn’s lap slowly. You seated yourself there, his lap between your thighs as you straddled him. His eyes shot wide, a quiet cough choking him as he forced back a sip of beer and silently handed the cold bottle to you. 

Leaning back carefully, you place it down next to yours, Quinn’s hands reaching out to grip carefully at your thighs to keep you from falling back. He anchored you there, in his lap, as you settled back into place carefully, your body arching further into his, stealing more and more of his space until you were a breath away from his lips. A small smile blossomed over your lips slowly, your body consumed with the giddiness of what you were about to do. Your brother would kill you for this, or Quinn, but you didn’t care. It made it all the more exciting to lean in and kiss him. 

There was a moment of hesitancy in the careful kiss of Quinn’s lips as they welcomed yours. His kiss was slow, and curious as your eyes fluttered shut and your hands came to rest on his shoulders. Your touch was a feather light fleeting touch that quickly found its way into the thick wisps of his hair as his kiss deepened with desperation. 

He kissed you like you were a glass of water, and he hadn’t had a sip in weeks. His tongue stroked your lips slowly before parting them, and you could taste the beer on his tongue as you welcomed it into your mouth. The sweet contact unleashed a hum that caused through Quinn’s body in a subtle vibration that could feel between your thighs. And suddenly, your entire body was weak, like gelatin, and craving more than just the kiss of his lips. 

“Quinn,” you whined against his lips, your hips moving in slow rotations over his lap, grinding your core against his cock that you hoped to coax into an erection. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, breaking the kiss for the first time as he threw his head back. Quinn’s touch left where he held you firmly at the back of your thighs, dragging upwards until they settled on your hips and encouraged your every movement. 

You watched as his face melted into a soft expression that you couldn’t quite place, his mouth agape and his eyes shut as he focused on the very feeling of you. And between your legs, you could feel the stiffness of his cock, hard and ready. Reaching down, your fingers fumbled to work him free of his pants, but the quick lurch of his one hand captured both of yours in his hold. 

You looked up at him, your eyes wide in shock as he guided your hands to the waistband of your pants carefully. 

“Take those off,” he told you, his words firm and far from a suggestion, “and go to your room.”

Holy fuck. You had never been someone who liked to be told what to do, but in that moment, Quinn could have told you to do anything and you would have done it. 

Standing slowly, you stood between his knees as she remained seated on the couch. Your eyes fixated on his features, worried that if you had let them wander down out of curiosity, you might moan. As you held your breath, your hands pushed down at the waist of your pants, you pushed them down—and your panties went with them. 

They remained in a heap on the floor, your toes tripping over them slightly as you began the agonizing walk to the bedroom. With every stride you could feel your own wetness dripping down the inside of your thighs, your core begging to be filled. And as you got to your bedroom, you froze, your legs pressed firm together as you waited. His footsteps didn’t fill the silence. Quinn wasn’t following you. 

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, your flesh suddenly red hut and sent a shimmer with a sheen of sweat. Quinn was still in the living room, his thoughts entirely his own as you waited, near panicked, for him to join you. 

Standing with your back to the door, your eyes shut as you took deep breaths in an attempt to remain calm. Maybe you had been too forward. He wasn’t interested—or maybe he wasn’t as reckless as you and wasn’t ready to throw away a good relationship with his teammate by fucking his teammate’s sister. 

“Fuck,” you cursed to yourself, ready to accept the mistake you had just made. 

Reaching for your blanket, you had intended to wrap it around your waist and retreat back into the living room with an apology, but when you turned around, Quinn was standing in your doorway. 

His steps were slow as he entered your bedroom for the first time since he had arrived two weeks prior. Quinn wasted no time getting familiar with his surroundings. He only had eyes for you as he met you where you stood frozen at the foot of your bed. Quinn’s arms wrapped around you in a careful bear-hug, drawing your body flush with his as his lips found yours in a kiss that reassured you that your advances had been welcome. 

You moaned against his lips as he lay you out on your bed with an effortless strength and splayed your legs open wide. Quinn could have settled himself in between them, but instead, he lay down at your side, your one leg propped up against him. He stroked at the delicate flesh of your inner thigh slowly as he kissed you. His touch moved up only an inch at a time, teasing you as he encroached on the apex of your thighs. He left your body shuddering with anticipation, his hand hovering over your eagerness but void of his touch when you knew he was so close to where you wanted him. 

“Please don’t make me beg,” you muttered against his lips. 

It had been weeks since you had anyone touch you, and when he had become your unexpected house guest, he was the last person you thought you would welcome into your bed. But now that you had him there, you wanted all of him, or as much of himself as he was willing to give you. 

First, you felt him smile against your lips, a hum of a laugh coursing through him, and then you felt his fingers on your clit. 

Your teeth grit in a satisfied hiss, your hips raising to meet his touch with an eagerness that was out of your control. Your heels dug down into the bed, your hips rolling into every careful circular stroke he made before his fingers dipped down, feeling the slick of your arousal and plunged into your core. 

“Quinn,” you gasped out, your hips dropping into a downward angle to welcome his fingers into your core. 

His middle and ring finger worked you in quick thrusts that left your mind dizzy and your movements purely instinctive as you anchored yourself to your bed with the grasp of your hand and bucked your hips up into his hand just to feel more of him. Quickly, you were so embarrassingly close to coming, and it left you reeling as you looked up at him with pleading eyes. 

“Are you going to-” you started, your body trying to roll on top of him in a swift movement that was interrupted by the careful push of his free hand against your hip. Quinn pushed you back to laying flat against the bed, one hand still buried in your core while the other held you down at the hips. The angle he worked you into, paired with how his fingers curled at just the right spot as they worked you, sent a fire burning through you. Your arousal coated his fingers, dripping down over his palm and making a mess of the bed as pleasure pulsed through you. It left you moaning, your head thrown back against the mattress as your core clenched around his fingers, wishing that it was his cock. 

As you lay in your bed, panting, you tried to remember the last time you let someone do something as adolescent as getting you off with nothing more than their fingers. But your mind was fogged by the bliss of your climax—but one thought hung low over you, preventing you from enjoying it fully. Quinn hadn’t gotten to enjoy releasing himself. 

Rolling over slowly, you tried to reach out for his waistband again, but he caught your hand. Your gaze met his, his eyes soft, and his smile small as he stroked the back of your hand with his thumb slowly. 

“You didn’t get to-” You started, but he cut you off. 

“I know,” he said, his hand bringing your hand to his lips to place a gentle kiss on your palm—a small attempt at a distraction from how his cock still seemed to throb in the confines of his pants. “But let’s sleep on it, okay? Make sure you don’t regret this in the morning. I mean, your brother is my teammate, after all.”

“Oh,” you sounded softly, trying to hide your disappointment behind understanding, “yeah, okay. But ah- can you stay in here with me tonight?” You requested slowly, “I don’t want to sleep alone anymore-”

Quinn nodded slowly, leaning in to place a kiss on your forehead. “I can do that, anything to get away from sleeping on that damn couch–”

The morning sunlight filtered weakly through the curtains, casting long shadows across the table as you sat across from Quinn. It was the first morning since he had arrived that it felt like you weren’t walking on eggshells. It was a quiet, comfortable affair, yet there was a new tension in the air. One that you couldn’t quite place. Maybe he was regretting what had happened. That thought alone left your stomach in your throat as you poked at your breakfast, trying to find the will to take the first bite. 

Then, breaking the silence, Quinn found the courage to speak. “I’m allowed to fly back to Michigan, to be with my family until the season resumes.”

Your grasp on your fork tightened, his words hitting you like a slap to the face. You could feel your face wanting to fall into a scowl, but you did your best to mask it by taking a long sip of your drink as you sought composure. 

So that was it. After weeks of shared solitaire, an awkward beginning that turned into something that felt natural, he was leaving? Just like that?

“That’s great,” you said, forcing a smile. “When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow morning,” he answered. 

You could feel his gaze on your face, searching for the reaction you refused to give him. Instead, you let your features soften, a practiced smile on your features as you set your fork down on the table with deliberate care. “I won’t keep you then. You’ve got some packing to do. The last thing you need is a distraction.”

Pushing your chair back, you abandoned your place on the table, your breakfast unfinished, and moved towards your bedroom. Your footsteps were quick, your eyes fixated on your bedroom door, and they did not deviate from it. Not even as Quinn’s voice followed you, your name leaving his lips in a gentle plea, “Please wait, can we talk about this?”

His words didn’t stop you. You didn’t turn around; you didn’t look back at him. Instead, your hand just tightened into your fist at your side as you reached the threshold of your doorway. There, you lingered for a moment, your flexed hand reaching up to rest against the door frame. You could feel Quinn’s eyes on your back, and your lips parted as if to say something–a sharp retort, a clever quip, anything to fill the silence–but no words came. 

Only a quivering breath left your lips as you stepped into your room and closed the door firmly behind you. 

The quietness and sudden isolation of your room were suddenly suffocating. Just mere hours ago you had Quinn had woken up there, together, and now he was going to just leave? It felt like some sick and twisted joke that left you trembling as you sank to your knees. You couldn’t help but wonder if he had known before breakfast, and that last night only happened because Quinn knew he was going to leave. The what ifs were all-consuming in your mind, raging louder and louder even if you tried to combat them with: Quinn, isn’t that kind of guy. He’s good—at least that’s what you wanted to believe. But the thought wasn’t enough. Your tears came anyway, hot and unrelenting as you silently sobbed. The hot tears spilled down your cheeks as you pressed your psalm into your face to muffle any sound that threatened to escape your lips. 

Quinn was leaving. After everything. After the awkward days of learning to live together, and the late-night talks, the laughter, and the moments that felt too intimate to be casual. You’d finally allowed yourself to settle into the strange shared existence the two of you had been thrust into. For two weeks, it was just the two of you alone in the little world that was your apartment. When Chris had dropped him off weeks ago, you knew the arrangement was temporary. At one point you had been counting down the hours until he could leave… but now, as you struggled through shallow breaths in search of a glimmer of composure, you had to accept he was leaving you behind, and it felt achingly permanent. 

In just twenty-four hours, Quinn would be gone.

You spent each one of them alone in your room, your mind racing with so many things you wanted to say, but never brought yourself to. As the next time you left your room, the apartment was unbearably quiet, void of Quinn’s presence. And for the first time in weeks, you were truly alone. 

[chestersbraincell]

You know, it's just a little bit funny how since the lockdown I've had depressive episodes where I end up completely alientated and alone, and thus once I heal and return back to "normal" I always have to re-learn how to feel "right" in interacting with people in-person and integrating myself into a circle

[our-aroace-experience]

Foreword, TW mention of harassment and namecalling.

My experience is theres this guy in my block who kept flirting me even if he had a girl friend. The problem is

i wasnt aware that we were flirting until my friends pointed it out.

i enjoyed the time i spent with him but i honestly didn't see any of it as flirting. I thought he was trying to make friends so i was like, cool, okay. Besides, who am I to deny hugs and pets when I'm pretty much touch starved from the damned covid lockdown? If anything i feel thankful that he's being friendly to me. But then i guess what looks friendly to me isnt friendly to others.

Then, months later my friends were like... Saying this:

"the guy is a fuckboy"

"girl, everyone had weird stares at you when you were hugging"

"i think he likes you"

"are you nuts he's literally harassing you"

And all that kind of stuff. But the entire time we were 'flirting' i didn't feel romance or anything. If anything all the hugging and head patting felt platonic, and i definitely don't intend to snatch him off from his girl friend. I mean i don't even initiate any of the stuff he does. He literally walks up to me and gives me hugs from behind. But aside from all that touchy stuff, we don't even have a deep relationship. We just know each other, and we're in the same class. And i think we have a mutual understanding that neither of us wants to be in a romantic relationship with the other, and yet we both permit the hugging and stuff.

it's quite unfortunate that people branded us with nicknames like "fuckboy" and "slut" just because we have the capacity to be touchy. We didn't even do things together alone. It's legit just hugging and hand holding in broad daylight. Other than that there is literally nothing like AAHH WHY Is it so hard to explain,, like i never even told anyone about it in fear that I'll just further make myself look like a fugitive or something

On a lighter note—while he never told me that he's aro, I really get the feeling that he is, if he could do all that and have no feelings for me. And I'm a wee bit happy to see someone else other than myself who is willing to be sweet without getting all romancey and stuff :)

Anyway thank you for this blog... I don't feel alone around here because of these aspec safe blogs. Thank you... I hope that wasn't too vent-y.. Hehe

i hope that situation has worked out for you!

[yoonia]

why did u stop updating about time??🥹

For varying reasons...

(tw: death and grief mentioned)

First, I lost any motivation to write the story when I was dealing with cyberbullies harassing me by mentioning that story, followed by continuous messages sent to me pushing for updates (like, literally, just words saying "update please!" or "when's the next chapter?" or "why aren't you updating yet?" without any other comment talking about the fic itself...like...did you even enjoy reading it???) while I was dealing with a ton of things both online and in real life that made me say "oh, f*ck off!" so I put it aside rather than forcing myself to write it half-heartedly and just finish it with a sub-par ending out of spite.

Oh, and there was also a reader who offered (to other readers!!!) to write their own ending IN THEIR WATTPAD ACCOUNT so I felt a stronger urge to delete the story rather than continuing it. That's when I took a long break from writing (completely...not just for this story).

I was planning to finish it in 2020 together with my other main series, but then Covid lockdown happened, the art gallery I was working at had to temporarily close and I was left working from home with less than half of my monthly payment, a ton of my projects got cancelled because people were afraid of letting strangers into their homes (i'm a home decorator), so I had to switch to commissions and patreon contents so I could pay my bills and put food on my table.

Writing About Time always takes a lot of time, energy, and it's emotional draining, so I always have to make sure I'm focusing solely on that story while I'm working on it. Obviously, this couldn't happen when I had commissions to focus on so I put more attention on finishing Carousel, then In Motion, and About Time was supposed to be next. But just when I was about to pick up the story again. my childhood friend passed away from cancer, mixed with a bunch of complications she got from contracting Covid while she was getting chemo (yes, she got it while at the hospital because she was surrounded by covid denier idiots who refused vaccines). It became too triggering to even open the draft again so I put it off, again, to focus on other projects.

So, there you go...

Don't get me wrong, I'm still planning to finish it. I even have the last few chapters and its ending written since 2020. But years have passed since then and my writing style has changed A LOT, so picking it up again and forcing myself to write the same way as I did then only puts me on a huge creative block. Not to mention, the ending might not work if I release it today since it's too dark and I guess people nowadays hate dark themes *sighs*

So I've been rewriting the story, fixing the storyboard, and planning a new ending. Obviously, this will take a lot of time, so I won't be updating the story in a while. At least not until I'm done fixing the previous chapters and completed the entire thing so readers won't have to wait between updates.

If you're curious to see snippets of the final chapters that I've written while you wait for the story to return, you can find and read them here. I might also release the original ending on Patreon once I'm done with everything.

[wyn-n-tonic]

TW Weight:

Before I moved to Philadelphia, between 2018 and early 2020, I lost 75 pounds after years of struggling with disordered eating and engaging in unhealthy habits that caused me to become my heaviest (at ~279). When I moved to Philly, I was so excited because I was finally at a weight where I could get my surgery taken care of and I was going to be able to get it taken care of at Penn Medicine which made me feel safe and comfortable. IT WAS ALL COMING UP WYN!!

Well, I moved to Philadelphia on February 29, 2020. Guess what happened a couple of weeks later.

Anyway, between lockdown and not having access to a gym (weight lifting) and then sustaining a head injury in 2021, things were not easy and they were not pretty and I didn't do well at taking care of myself. Then I got cleared for exercise and then I got Bailey to encourage me to walk and work on my balance. Well... Bailey does not want to walk. She does not want to be out of her home and, honestly, mood.

Then I got fired for being disabled and advocating for myself and I got COVID at the same time (for the first time) which just knocked me out. I spent six months dealing with COVID, after effects of COVID (asthma, heyyy), unemployment and heavy depression. Which, like... okay, fine. Things happen.

Anyway, I got another job and it was great and I was moving more even though the asthma was taking my ass out. It's fine. It's cool. But then I got depressed again and honestly I have had a really bonkers 2024 and I just have not been doing Great(TM).

And my entire medical team and my insurance have said they'll approve my surgery whenever now (because asthma is an auto approval but not my cancer risk????) but I still wanted to start feeling better before I did that (I didn't want to look like a bowling pin).

So, fast forward to July 9, 2024, my sister comes to visit with her family and I hang out with them. Sarah and I took a picture together and I got so sad because I was like, "Um... who the fuck is that girl?" THAT WAS NOT ME! I did not recognize myself!

So I decided to take it seriously again and I've been focusing on making sure I have meals available and that I'm eating an actual breakfast and not just coffee and protein bars. I've also been working on putting more movement back into my day because I don't want to go too hard too fast and become demotivated because I'm overwhelmed, if that makes sense????? Anyway, I love walking but walking outside in this heat is dangerous and also with my balance and the way I crash out the last couple of years, it just didn't feel all that safe all around. I got a walking pad last month and was at the top of the weight capacity for it.

I officially started tracking things on July 20. I was 269. Today, I am 256. And my mental health is better and also I feel better! And also my clothes are already starting to fit better too. This shit rules.

[more-sonorous]

the power of rugelach (sun, moon, stars)-- jatherid

i cannot get enough of these children. so here is more. copious amounts of Kath love incoming, because she deserves it!

tw for mentions of the covid pandemic + asshole parents making bad decisions.

....

It was a well known fact of life that Katherine Pulitzer hated her father. She hated almost every member in her entire immediate family, actually, which was saying something since she had six siblings. Each of them was more assholish than the last (except for her eldest sister Lucy. Lucy was alright). The other five siblings were horrible, just like her ice-cold mother and her overbearing, horrible father and his neverending ‘dickery’, as Jack so eloquently put it.

This week’s ‘dickery’ involved him summoning all of his children to his townhouse in the city for one last family meeting before the lockdown 'really kicked in'. In the middle of a pandemic. Katherine, not really wanting to leave the safety and comfort of Jack’s apartment and her lovely roommates, put up a hell of a fight. First of all, pandemic. Second of all, lockdown. Third of all, a lot of her older siblings had kids, so they shouldn’t have been exposing themselves anyways– but stubborn Joseph Pulitzer merely brushed her worries off. Kath wondered if he lost a bit of common sense with every dollar he earned, and resolutely refused to attend. When he threatened to stop paying off her remaining debt from university, she found herself gruffly climbing into her vehicle and driving to meet with her ridiculous, stupid family.

It was not a pleasant evening. In fact, it was far from pleasant. She had to endure passive aggressive comments about Jack, her career, Jack again, her choice of clothing, her relationship with Jack– everything from the way she styled her bangs to the sneakers she wore. When was she going to get married? When was she going to get a real job, or a ‘serious’ boyfriend? And her father. She wanted to punch the man across the face as the hours chugged on. If she heard one more word about how ‘concerned’ he was for her future, she was sure she’d explode.

Kath had never been more grateful to slam the door of her car behind her and floor it back to their safe, cozy studio apartment. She stormed up the stairs in a cloud of fury, sure that there was metaphorical smoke pouring from her ears.

After a visit with her family, she never failed to feel like nothing more than the red-headed failure of a middle child. 

Realistically, she knew she wasn’t a failure. She was an established journalist in a happy relationship, making her own money and living her life how she wanted. She was happy. That was what mattered, after all– she’d been chasing her own happiness and building life her way since she moved out for freshman year of college. What she had was what she’d wanted since childhood. She’d never felt more free.

Their comments still managed to get under her skin, infuriatingly enough. She hated her family. She hated that they didn’t even know her enough to see how happy she was. Or maybe they did see, and they still didn't accept it. That somehow made the knife twist even deeper.

Kath practically kicked down the door to the apartment and slung her shoes off as aggressively as possible, wanting to take out her bone-deep fury on every inanimate object in her immediate vicinity. She wanted to write furious prose about her parents and scream into the water of a scalding hot bath. She wanted to throw something or kick something or rip something– but then she saw Davey, and all of that sort of waned away.

He was curled up against the plush arm of the couch with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, dark curls ruffled and extra fluffy post-nap. The Office played on the TV and he watched with hooded green eyes, a pillow hugged to his chest, long legs folded beneath him. He turned to see her and smiled, whole face lighting up, and she felt her rage sap away as his eyes brightened.

“Kathy.” Davey dropped everything he’d been doing and climbed off of the couch, making his way to her in long strides. He was so happy to see her, and for some reason, that made her so happy that she could scarcely breathe. “How was your luncheon?”

“Miserable.” She muttered, surprised at the thickness of emotion tightening her voice.

Davey frowned a long-suffering frown. Having grown up alongside her, he was used to the Pulitzer clan bullshit. That explained the concern in his wide, green eyes, and the hesitant way he kept twitching his hands towards her like he wanted to comfort her but was stopping herself. Her pent up frustration urged her to grab him by the shoulders and scream that she wanted his touch just as much as he wanted to touch her. She barely refrained, and chose to hang on to the gentle sound of his voice instead as he continued speaking. “I figured as much. Jack said he was going to try to be back as soon as possible, but he’s moving all of his stuff out of the art studio across town so he might be a little bit longer– in the meantime, I made you rugelach, since I know you don’t like the desserts your father’s cook makes. We can go eat, if you want.”

Only then did she register the warm, comforting smell of flaky puff pastry and freshly made raspberry jam. It smelled like distant childhood memories. The cramped kitchen in the Jacobs house after every birthday– like breaking in her first apartment, Davey’s cheeks and t-shirt splotched with flour– like two AM after her Bat Mitzvah, when she and Davey had curled up in a pillow fort, giggling and devouring pastries until the sun came up. He’d been worrying about her. Of course he’d been worrying about her, because he was just so good and kind and sweet, and Katherine wanted him so deeply and ridiculously that it hurt. 

What she wouldn’t give to have both him and Jack at once. 

She realized that she didn’t give him a response a moment too late, because his lips ticked down into a subtle frown. “Kathy… are you okay?”

And then she was crying. The floodgates broke embarrassingly fast, and the sob that ripped through her was loud and ugly. Within seconds, Davey had her wrapped up in his freckled arms, and she sunk into his comforting warmth with careless abandon. He was tall and warm and familiar and Jack was right, his clothes were really soft– and he smelled good, too, like old books and vanilla shampoo and lavender fabric softener. With one hand cradling the back of her head and the other arm tucked firmly around her waist, Katherine felt safe to sob her eyes out. She did just that as Davey tucked his nose into her hair and held her steady through the storm.

“I hate them.” She sobbed incoherently, feeling stupid and childish all the while. “And th-they hate me too, and I– I hate that they hate me, Davey, I fucking despise it!”

“Nobody hates you.” Davey soothed in that soft voice of his, words warm and sweet against the top of her head. “It's impossible to hate you.”

She hiccuped around another sob and squeezed tight fistfuls of his shirt into her hands. “They do. I know they do. I don’t– I don’t care what they think of me, and I’m not gonna change for them, but I just wish they’d understand me, Davey–”

Her blubbering was nearly incoherent and she knew it, but he didn’t judge her or freeze up or anything. Instead, he ran a gentle hand through her hair and pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, letting the wave of fresh tears ebb. She cried hard, loud tears of frustration. Hugging Davey was a lot better than hitting inanimate objects, but it didn’t make her ridiculous excuse for a family hurt any less. He understood, and he let her cry until she was hiccuping. Then he gently wrapped both his arms around her and spoke very softly. “Couch?”

Kath could only manage a nod and felt herself melt from head to toe as he lifted her up in deceptively strong arms. She swung her legs around him– if he was going to be as tall as a tree, she could cling like a koala– and the only reaction she received was a soft noise of surprise before he snapped back into comfort mode and carried her to the couch. When Davey sat, Katherine didn’t dare move and buried her face in his shoulder, instead. He hugged her tightly, shielding her with her arms, and she wanted to hide there forever.

It didn’t take long for her to calm down, and when the rage stopped clouding her vision, it left an overwhelming sadness behind. 

“I’m always wondering–” She cut herself off with a hiccupy little breath but quickly tried to reign her voice in. Kath hated crying. Feeling weak. “I’m always wondering what my life would be like if I’d grown up with parents that actually supported me.”

“Who knows?” Davey’s voice was barely a whisper as he tugged the elastic from the end of her braid and ran his fingers through her hair, gently untangling the strands. “It sucks that we can’t control what we’re born into. We just have to make the most of it, and you do a really good job of that, Kathy.”

Another hiccup shook her and she curled her fingers into the fabric of his shirt. “Doesn’t make me hate it any less.”

“You have every right to hate it. Your siblings are pretentious jerks, your mom has more botox than she does love in her shriveled up heart, and your borderline evil dad has a huge stick up his ass.” Davey stated, so matter-of-factly that Katherine couldn't help but let out a sharp bark of laughter. “But somehow they raised my closest friend, and she turned out to be kind and loyal and passionate and all of the best things you could want in a person. So… I’m just grateful you’re here and you’re you.”

The pure adoration swelling in her chest brought stinging tears to her eyes, and within moments they were slipping down her cheeks. “Davey…”

“Oh, no.” He breathed, going rigid and raising his hands to his hair. “I am so, so sorry. I didn't– I didn’t want to make you cry again, I just– I probably shouldn’t have said that about your parents–”

“You’re the best.” Kath managed to choke out through her tears, and she embraced him again so he couldn’t see the infatuation in her eyes. Davey hugged her back, with a bit of careful hesitance, but he relaxed into the touch soon enough, sinking into the couch cushions behind him. She almost felt bad for crying on him– first Jack, less than a week ago, and now her– but there was just something about Davey’s steadiness that made the wild parts of Kath (and surely Jack, too) feel safe.

Keys jingled in the door and Kath didn’t move a muscle as she listened to Jack’s familiar footfalls. He made his way into the kitchen first, probably setting down boxes based on the roll and rattle of paint brushes and acrylic bottles, but soon his parade of sock-footed steps landed in the living room. Within moments he was at her side, a warm hand on her back. 

“Jesus, love, what’s wrong?”

“Kath’s family are assholes.” Davey answered, and she managed a meek nod of agreement.

Jack chuckled, soft and low. “Don’t I know it. C’mere, darling.” Gentle, calloused fingers tilted her chin up and she looked into the sweetest brown eyes she knew. Kath thanked the powers above for providing her with these precious boys as Jack carefully pulled the sticky strands of hair from her cheeks and wiped her tears away. “You deserve better, mi rayo del sol.”

For the second time that day, she positively melted. If she hadn’t been seated on top of Davey her knees surely would’ve gone weak. Kath let herself smile dopily as Jack kissed her cheeks and the tip of her nose. “Hug?”

“Obviously.” She croaked, feeling exhausted and emotionally drained. 

Jack tugged her up against her chest and she practically collapsed against her amazing boyfriend. It seemed that the universe wasn’t keen on giving her a single moment of relaxation, because Davey went and stood up and Katherine felt her head whipping around towards him before she could stop herself. He had an awkward, almost pained expression on his pretty face and every socially trained part of her told her to just let him leave. Jack was her boyfriend, after all, and comforting her should’ve been his job alone. Still, deep in her chest, she knew she’d feel better with both of them and she wasn’t going to dance around that anymore.

“Where are you going?”

“My… uh… my room.” He froze awkwardly, like a deer in headlights. Jack’s chest shook with a silent chuckle and he hid his face in her hair. “I figured you’d want Jack–”

Sometimes, Davey required bluntness. Kath, teary-eyed and exhausted, delivered exactly that as she reached a hand out and motioned him over. “I do want Jack. And you. So get over here.”

“You oughta do what she says, Dave, she rules the roost. I don’t make the rules.” Jack murmured into her shoulder, looking up at Davey with irresistible brown doe eyes. Kath knew, from experience, that he was impossible to say no to when he looked like that. She was absolutely correct as she watched Davey’s resolve disappear into a little groan. He rubbed his eyes from beneath his glasses.

“Okay. Let me get the rugelach while they’re still warm.”

“The rug-ah-luh-huh?” Jack muttered, sitting back against the arm of the couch and tugging Kath to sit between his legs. She laughed and traced her thumb over the scar on his chin, taking just a moment to admire his adorable expression of confusion. How her parents could disapprove of this wonderful boy, she’d never know. 

“My favorite pastry.” Kath explained, with a genuine smile. “Davey makes his grandma’s recipe and he tops them with this raspberry jam– they’re seriously life changing, Jack. Just wait.”

"Anything Dave cooks is life-changing." He assured, before leaning in to press a kiss to her cheeks. His hand, warm as ever, cupped her face as he continued his trail down her jaw. "You look beautiful right now."

She scoffed, sharp and degrading. "I look like a mess."

"Nuh-uh. You can't see yourself, 'n you can't see what I'm seein'-- and what I'm seein' is a picture I oughta paint and hang on my wall forever." Jack's voice was soft and low and dripping with honesty that made her face feel hot and her stomach clench happily. He grinned a riddiculous, dopey grin. "Yeah, that's right. I see that little smile-"

"You're ridiculous." Kath pushed his cheek into her shoulder to stifle his ridiculous giggles.

Jack Kelly was an unstoppable little beast, though, and he popped his head right back up and trained that megawatt natural smile at her. She'd learned the distance by now-- his forced smile hid his pretty dimples, but if he was really happy, they came right out. He was smiling at her like she was the sun itself. "Ridiculously honest, maybe. 'Cause all I'm seein' is just plain gorgeous. Tell me, did it hurt when--"

"No!" She whined as she tried to quell her own laughter, slapping a hand over his mouth to stop the ridiculous pickup lines.

Maybe she should've expected the cheeky bastard to lick her palm, but she figured they were too mature for that. She was wrong and recoiled with a shriek, gazing at her spit-slick palm. "Jack! Germs! You don't know where my hand's been!"

"I just saw it touchin' Dave, 'n he's pretty clean. So."

Kath barked out a shocked laugh and gently shoved his shoulder, which only made him tug her closer. "You are the worst, did you know that?"

"But you love me." Jack cooed in a sing-song sort of way, all gentle touches as he cupped her cheeks in those rough hands of his. She loved his hands. Couldn't get enough of them.

She felt herself soften for the unfairly beautiful boy, and tilted her head to kiss the inside of his palm. "Unfortunately I do."

Davey returned, carefully holding a plate of fragrant pastries. Kath felt her mouth watering at the comforting smell, and wondered just how he knew exactly what she needed. He was more perceptive than people assumed– just another bullet point of the list of things Kath loved about David Jacobs. And another thing on the subsequent list for Jack was the fact that he loved Davey, too, based on the way he was looking at him with a ridiculously dopey, lovesick grin. “You gonna come and sit, now, Dave?”

“Sure. Um…” David awkwardly rocked back onto his heels, arms straight down by his sides. His hands would be buried in his pockets, if he had any. “How… um… how do you want me?”

“Less rigid.” She teased, before taking gentle hold of his plaid sweatpants and pulling him closer. He went willingly, if not a bit stiffly, and molded himself to her just how she wanted. Kath leaned her back up against Davey’s chest and let Jack take the reins, gently taking Davey’s ankle in hand and placing it on the couch next to him so that both Jack and Kath were sitting within the vee of his legs. Davey hesitantly strung his freckled arms around her and she breathed a sigh of relief as she relaxed into the tangle of Jack and Davey, a giddy sort of thrill shooting through her as Dave gently dropped his chin onto her head. “Rugelach time, now.”

“Whatever you wish, princess.” Jack threw a wink at her and grabbed the plate, settling it in the midst of their cuddle pile, balanced on Kath’s lap. He plucked one of the pastries and held it up with a smile that dimpled his cheeks and brightened the room. “Open wide.”

The rugelach were even better than the last time David made them, sweet and nutty and just a bit tart from the jam. Kath felt her eyes roll back and she tilted her head into the firmness of Davey's chest with a groan. "Davey. Ohmygod."

"Good?" He shook with a giggle, and smiled a private little smile.

"Perfect, I think. Jack, you hafta try." She snatched one of the pastries and held it out for Jack to bite.

He grinned cheekily at her before leaning in and taking a careful bite, purposefully brushing his lips against her fingers. The playfulness dissolved as his eyes grew wide, and he quickly bit off the rest of the rugelach and stared at Davey like he was the most wonderful thing in the world (he sort of was). "Dave. What the hell did you put in this?"

"Walnuts. Raisins. Love?"

"You heard it here, folks. Walnuts, raisins, and love. Key to Jack Kelly's heart." Jack grinned and plucked another rugelach off of the plate. Kath didn't ignore Davey's pleased, victorious little expression-- but that smile dropped into hesitance as Jack offered the treat to him. "Your turn."

Davey swallowed hard and Kath fought valiantly to suppress a giggle at the pink spreading from his cheekbones to his ears. "I-- um-- germs."

"C'mon..." Puppy eyes. Kath felt bad for Davey. It was impossible to stay strong when Jack used those big, brown eyes to his advantage.

Her spirits lifted with every giggle they shared as Jack fed Davey the sweet, Davey’s messy bite of surprise sending puff pastry flakes tumbling down onto Kath’s shoulder. The three of them fed each other in a ridiculous fit of giggles, featuring Kath awkwardly reaching back to try and find Davey’s mouth, and Davey exasperatedly leaning forward to swipe jam off of Jack’s cheek, and Jack constantly brushing powdered sugar onto Kath’s nose just to kiss it off again. Jack even tried his silly little lip brush trick on poor Davey, which definitely sent his brain into reboot mode. Kath couldn't hide her laughter at that, and she only cackled harder when her defeated best friend hid his face in her shoulder and tightened his arms around her. Soon sunset was bathing the apartment and Kath’s ridiculous family was pushed into a far corner of her mind.

What she had in that moment was far better than anything her parents could’ve offered her as a child. Jack and Davey were family, and she was at home in their arms– just a little bit sweaty with her face sticky from tears and her hair a tangled, finger-combed mess. That, she decided, was how she wanted to spend the rest of her life. No picture perfect cul-de-sac marriage. Just them.

....

can you believe that these goobers aren't in an established relationship yet? guess i oughta write a getting together blurb for them...

but pining is so fun i just wanna write awkward lovestruck stumbling

[jeanie-g]

For the Spotify wrapped fic thingie: number 4 with NicoJack (obviously hehe 🤭). Please and thank you 🩵

we have our second charli song! this one is from her lockdown album, and really captures that cabin fever feeling we're all familiar with.... (so tw for mentions of covid if that's something anyone wants to avoid)

[#4] anthems (Charli xcx)

Have sex, me and my Romeo / He says I'm irresistible / I'm gassed up like a Texaco / I ride (x10) it / Sometimes I feel okay, some days I'm so frightened

• If Jack had a nickel for every time his sophomore year in the NHL was put to a halt because of a worldwide pandemic, he'd only have one nickel—but that's one too many for his liking.

• He was just starting to get in a groove, too—well, he considered a point at least once a week as a groove compared to the clusterfuck of a season last year. But now everything's shut down, and they have to stay home, and Jack can't even go to the gym. It's making him go just a tiny bit crazy.

• With all that being said, Nico's been an awfully good distraction. No one was allowed to visit each other in the beginning, when the news from the WHO dropped, and scientists and doctors—along with the general public—were learning new things every hour. Nico started coming over so Jack wouldn't be so alone. They lived in the same apartment complex, after all, and it was nice having some company. This whole thing would blow over soon enough, surely.

• But days turned into weeks. Several weeks. Once the league officially ended the season early, it became clear that this was gonna be the new norm for a while. Fauci started talking about "pods" and all that, but flights home were hard to come by, so Jack stayed put and spent more and more time with Nico. They were living in each other's pockets; they split the cost of groceries and Nico crashed on the couch when they'd gotten carried away playing COD late hours into the night.

• And when you're amidst a global lockdown, unemployed, frustrated, and horny as all hell, discoveries end up being made. It didn't take long for Jack to catch Nico giving him sidelong glances, for their hands to brush when they walked by each other in the hall.

• The other shoe dropped while they were watching the new Pixar movie that skipped theatres and went straight to streaming. It was so easy. Nico's hand fell on his hip while they sat on the couch, and Jack looked over. And like a collapsing deck of cards, it moved so quickly after that.

• It started out as simple, no-strings-attached fun. A good stress reliever. Making out and grinding their hips together to completion while ESPN played old highlights on the TV. Exchanging handies and blowies after dinner and then collapsing in Jack's bed. It didn't take long for them to graduate to fucking. Jack was so nervous the first time, only calmed with the knowledge that Nico was just as nervous, too.

• Nico's handsome—Jack has eyes, after all—and he's a very good lay. But as those weeks turned into months, Jack could feel it blossom into something more. Nico was so kind and caring—even from the start, risking disease to come over and keep his basically-still-a-rookie company.

• Now, he's sitting with his back to Nico's chest, Chinese takeout on the coffee table (because fuck the racists trying to put them out of business), watching Friends. Nico's chuckling at Phoebe and Jack can feel the heat from his soft exhale on the top of his head. And he has to wonder if it'll still be like this when the lockdown invariably ends.

• Nico drops a kiss to the top of his head, and he has a good feeling it will.

[ms-camucia]

School rant, sorry its kinda rambly. TW for school shootings, bomb threats, the whole Apalachee High situation.

Nothing like last week's news to make me so, so glad I’m not in a classroom anymore.

I taught in Georgia and South Carolina for 13 years. Even did an observation at Apalachee during grad school, since it was a relatively quick drive from Athens/UGA - you know, back in the distant past of 15 years ago when teacher training had actual rigor and requirements in this part of the country. I even taught at the psychoeducational alternative school that Barrow county bussed their most extreme EBD kids to. So yeah, this hit close to home for me.

My financial situation basically changed overnight last year, when Dr. Mr. Camucia finally finished his fellowship and became a full-fledged attending. This let me quit my job right in time for South Carolina to implement its policy where teachers would have to submit every. single. thing. that would be used throughout the year. Every book, website, lesson plan, PowerPoint - all would have to be submitted within the first two weeks for administration to approve, and parents would have the right to veto or challenge anything they want. You know, in addition to the million other things teachers already do, and crap I had to do handling the yearbook.

(You can only imagine what a policy like this would be like for me, teaching a class called Media Art where both teaching Photoshop and media literacy/criticism were in my standards 🙃)

But things, particularly where I was teaching, were already Bad. And, in fact, getting Worse. This was a school where we already had an entire year of bomb threats well before Covid (including one with an actual failed bomb! My fanfic Footnotes was borne of the insanity of that year!) - that basically showed the exact protocol of what happens when something like this happens at a school. We did all the things everyone claims would stop this sort of thing -

-They added metal detectors (which basically flagged almost everyone, causing 1st period to basically lose 20 minutes a day since so many kids had to get wanded down every morning). They gave up on those after about a week.

-They added more cops, more cameras, sealed off more doors, did all the things, but the bomb threats, kids bringing in weapons, etc. just kept happening.

-They even (years later) added a security system very similar to the one at Apalachee - except, oh, wait - my classroom, and like six others were just… not hooked up to the system. They took my old school panic button, said they’d fix it "later" and give me one of them fancy lanyards with the panic switch, and that just never happened. Three of the classrooms didn’t even have the fire alarm work for their room! They straight up missed fire drills!

My last year there, there was a huge fight in the cafeteria. Like the kind that makes the news, not the kind that happen almost every day that just get posted to tiktok or whatever (I was on bus line afternoon duty, and frequently had kids compliment me on how bored I’d look breaking up those kinds of fights).

But this was a 10 or so person brawl that ended up with multiple student injuries, blood all over the floor, a whole school lockdown, and a teacher breaking their leg trying to hold back the crowd watching/recording/cheering it on. I taught two of the main participants - they were suspended, then "expelled," then mysteriously just showed back up a month later after some sort of appeal to the board of ed. I was told to let them make up any work they missed during their month off, which they both referred to like it was a vacation (would it surprise anyone to know these were football players?).

This isn’t isolated. Ask almost any teacher and they’ll have multiple accounts of kids just… not facing consequences when they get written up, or not caring about parent calls (because the parent doesn’t care either), or seeing ISS and OSS as vacations since they just get to sleep and play with their phones. I don’t think people who haven’t been in a school realize just what it’s like now. And I don’t know what the environment was like at Apalachee, but I know that the facility where the most troubled kids for that specific part of Georgia was shut down last year - I know this because I worked there.

Apparently all of the GNETS (Georgia Network of Educational and Therapeutic and Support) schools in Georgia were shut down last year for having these kids not mainstreamed enough. I can say from having worked there as an art teacher that the system was not perfect, but that these kids did not belong in a mainstream classroom. I was stabbed, kicked, spat on, had literal shit thrown at me - and I was one of the better liked teachers! But at least there were smaller class sizes and much better ratios of social workers and psychologists working with the kids and their families. We had access to resources that regular public schools are just stretched too thin to pursue, things like getting families off the street, clothes and food for students' whole families, etc. So these kids were just sent back to their home schools for their presumably already overwhelmed regular Special Ed departments to deal with.

Apparently in Barrow County, where Apalachee is, all of the kids who were at the alternative school are sent to just one school per level, plus taking on additional kids from other, smaller counties in the area. I’m sure caseload numbers went way up, and the behaviors being dealt with got a whole lot more extreme in just one semester.

This kid should have had so many red flags. There already were, according to the FBI! But as far as schools, there should have been a dozen counselors, administrators, etc. who had worked on a fat ol BIP (behavior intervention plan) about this kid that every teacher got before he even stepped foot into their classroom. It’s not uncommon to get kids where you know for a damn fact you’re not supposed to let them go to the bathroom unaccompanied, or have to check in with guidance every morning, or who have to get their backpack searched every morning (or aren’t allowed to have a backpack at all! I had a few of those!). But that apparently just… didn’t happen.

So, yeah. Every part of this whole situation has just made my skin crawl. Those kids and those teachers should be alive. Those kids who got shot and will be traumatized for life should have never had that happen to them. The cult of gun worship in this country is sickening, and the more we gut public education, the more teachers will just throw their hands up and give up like I did - this isn’t going to get better without drastic, dramatic change. And I really just don’t see it happening in this country.

I miss teaching. I miss my kids. I was, by all accounts, pretty damn good at it. But with things the way they are, and the sheer insane number of things we expect teachers to be able to do while also blaming them for everything, I'm not going back.

[4urum-4rgentum]

My personal problems:

My clusterfuck of a rant (ft. Cassandra clare)

Buckle up besties bc im about to trauma dump. Like actual baby gay trauma.

(@faithfromanewperspective you wanted to know, i dont think i can freestyle angst on an ask like i can on a post so here it is)

Tw: incest, gender dysphoria, homophobic parents, sexual assault.

In our country you have to give a board exam (goverment??? Exam??? Similar to SATs) at the end of your 5 grade. So you need a primary school certificate (PSC)

After my PSC, my parents fixed up my Tablet. And went to work., i sat on my leaving room couch with blankets and pillows for a whole month (there was a dent on the couch when i actually got up for 6th grade) and i surfed the internet in those weeks.

I saw the malec video on yt ( i didnt click on it and didnt think much of it)

So my friend told me to watch anime. Somehow searching 'anime' on yt lead me to an anime 'Super lovers' (yaoi, pseudo incest, pedophilic and rapey everything under the sun you can find, its in super lovers) also i was like 11. 5 years old at this point. I have no concept of whats right or wrong. And bc of these animes (theres so much of it) i thought incest was fine. I also got into Todobaku and bakudeku. And thats part was fine i was mainly watching edits on yt. Then i started reading yaoi mangas and wattpad stories and gacha vids (And yes incest is still featuring on these stories for the most part)

Somewhere along the line, i was like, this feels weird (it was a particularity bad wattpad story with incest i think) i was already consuming gay content for months by then. (I still hadnt started 6th grade mind you.) and my standard for content increased a bit. And i stopped engaging with incest fics and mangas completely. After i distanced myself from it i realised how fucked that was and moved on from it.

But i still engaged with gay content. Somehow i stumbled upon the malec vid again. I watched it. (The first time im seeing live action gay ppl on screen) then i got into thai bl. ("Love by chance" was my first) the thai bl scene was a bit better. Around this time i read bl, watched bl and started to research about gay culture and what not. I figured out i was attracted to girls before i even went back to school

When i went back to school I became friends with a girl (lets call her bunny) I knew bunny since 5th grade but i didnt talked to her that year. she was smart and cool and i had a bit of crush on her from afar.

(5th grade before gay awakening) One time in my school bus while guessing one of my "friends" crushes i asked if he had a crush on bunny, he laughed, i "joked" if i was a boy, i would grow up to marry her. That 'friend' emptied his water bottle on my head as a response.

In 6th grade, the first week (maybe 2nd /3rd January), bunny and i got selected for a group project along with other friends. Me and another friend went to bunny's house for the project. The other friend left. After that friend left bunny and I started to unpack our traumas for each other. Family troubles and what not. I (being the dumb bitch i am) told her that i liked her (and also the water bottle thing) and that i liked girls too (at this point I identified as bi)

In class 6 and of fuckery happend, but me and bunny became bsfs so fast, with in a day. And we were inseparable. I asked her out and she laughed in my face. And we laughed about it years later too. 6th grade ends with her being made at me for smth i didnt even do wrong and some other shit with out toxicest friened. (We werent hanging out by the end of the year)

(Also i finished all off the percy jackson and percy jackson spin offs in 6th grade) and i also told my dad that i liked girls too. He conveniently forgot it for the nest year.

I come back for 7th grade knowing I was bi or pan (couldnt decide which i identified with the most) i start hanging out with a group of boys. Then covid happens.

Lockdown at the begining was fine (terrified but fine) around the second month of lockdown some genderfuckery started to happen. I would forget my own gender (round the time i was falling asleep or waking up). I started consuming for trans stuff around this time. And i journaled on my sketchbook with doodles and cried on it. I had terrible dysphoria. And i didnt even have a name for it in the begining. And one day the pain became too much and i broke in front of my mother. I came out to her. She ignored me. (Muslim parents) she said i was just a tomboy and "theres nothing wrong with me" and other stuff. I was sure i was trans. And non binary (trans tiktok helped with that bit).

My dysphoria became worse as time went on. Just before time of my birthday. My step mother bought me some books i asked for (queer books) and it had Chain of Gold She saw that it had just come out and thought i would like it. So i was reading chain of Gold. And i didnt get shit. I maybe read 100 pages before i decided that i needed context. I went on goggle and searched the best ways to read cassandra clare books in order and they said that Series wise is best. So i started City of bones (worse mistake of my life)

It was on yt so i started with it first. I already knew before starting that jace and clary werent related and incest might come up. (I didnt know it was that levels of fucked in the books) i just saw a pinterest meme where it was said rather jokingly.

Anyway i finished the whole part one and two of The mortal instruments. I read it for Malec bc they were the only gay characters. I have 101 problems with this series but my most major one was Malec. So at this point in my life i was a closeted trans, (multispec) queer kid Something about reading Queer characters tell each other horrible things about bejng closted and bisexual made me hate myself more. Malec didnt not develope my internalized homophobia, it definately fueled it tho. After my birthday i got grounded (my parents found out the queer content i was engaging with. It was very traumatic. I came out to them and my dad to my face said that i am not queer, instead i am fetishizing queerness and i was engaging in perversion.)

Alot happend many times my parents tried to distance me from queer culture and media but gave up.

As 7th grade ended me and bunny reconnected (shit also happend when my mother read our chats)

Around 8th grade i cried and begged to my mother that i am not going to change and all that jazz, she didnt say anything. But she became more on gaurd, she would analyze my interactions with other girls differently (one time while riding in her scooty, i was in the back said and waved to a girl that was starting at me for some reason) my mother told my dad that shes afraid im flirting with girls AS IM ON THE SCOOTER WITH HER-

In class 8 bunny pulled some shit (i explained it in another post i think) also i finally watched the shadowhunter series show malec healed the wounds that book malec anf my parents left. I was for the most part okay i think (academic studies were my biggest problem)

In class 9 around second half of the year i joined tumblr (helped my mental health immense, finding other gay ppl) and i asked for a book from my step mother (it was a bangla book about a trans girl) my dad delivered it to me. And said that he got that i wasnt going to change (BC LORD KNOWS THEY TRIED) he told me to study well so i could go live abroad bc this country will have me dead. I agreed and took the book (i couldnt finish the book, it was too dark for me at times, i gave the book to bunny).

Bunny and my relationship is vented about in another post. I wont get it.

So my problem with cassandra clare happens for three major personal reasons, one of them i didnt even mention bc i still feel weird about it.

1. The Malec part.

2. The incest part : reading TMI made me relive that first part where i engaged with incestuous content. And just disturbed me to my core this time around EVENTHOUGH I HAD A MILD HEADS UP i didnt know the extent of its fuckery. I dont know why but it just turnt the disgust at incest meter up the roof. Like completely fucked my brain and i wasnt okay. (I was 13/14 my birthday fell in the middle)

3. The sexual assault of Aline.

(Tw: my SA)

As a child (9/10 yrs old) i was assulted in an crowded elevator, my dad was in the elevator, i didnt not see the assulters face. I just remember being sqished against the wall, with a mans hand jammed between my legs. I rember trying to flatten myself against the wall to get away from the hand but it woulnt stop. The hand was knuckles deep between my thighs. I didnt see the mans face. I dont rememeber what he looked like from the back. After we got out i told my dad. He barely reacted and said 'people are assholes'. I told my mother about it.... Earlier This year. I thought if i had told her, she wouldnt let me hang out with dad anymore. He was so nonchalant about it that i thought i was over reacting.

Reading the Aline SA scene fucked me up. It was the first time i had come across an SA scene in a book, before that it was lightly mentioned. In the Aline scene, my mind visualised the whole thing. And it nearly drove me to a panic attack. I was 13 at this point. And in the books it was never brought up again, like it was no big deal. Like it was normal. It was for shock value. And i fell for it.

And the rest of the tsc is still bad writing and i hated it. But tmi fucked right up mentally and yeah. I have other posts explaining my journey with it, under the tag auru's tsc rant. Those explain it better.

[gaykneecaps]

TW: vent

'now that covid is over' 'now that we're out of lockdown' 'now that we dont have to mask' 'now that the risk is gone' maybe for you. maybe for you this is all back to normal. maybe for you you wont have to live every day of your life in fear anymore. but not for me. not for us. even when we were having lockdowns, the people around us got breaks every time the restrictions were lifted again- for them, lockdown was going to the market once every 2 weeks instead of twice a week. for them lockdown was wearing the shittiest mask money can buy with their nose out of it, going to a bar once a week instead of twice. for me, it was 4 years spent in complete isolation alone in my room, terrified what would happen to my mother, what would happen to me. wondering if i would have to kill myself if i got covid. wondering if the next friend to cough near me because they failed to tell their immunocompromised friend that they were sick would be the nail in the coffin. and now that i have two immune conditions instead of just one, i know ill have to spend the rest of my life masking, living in fear, feeling my blood run cold when someone sneezes, feeling like a peice of shit when i forget my mask, battling to be able to breathe as i struggle with my heart condition through the filtered mask, staring hatefully at my siblings as they complain about how they havent gone out drinking in two whole nights, while it feels like i havent left the house for things other than a doctors appointment for over 2 years. for me, its my teacher asking me over and over again to take my mask off until i have to yell at her that my mum could die, and her still asking me. its putting up with my friend's siblings telling me i dont legally have to mask anymore. its putting up with people celebrating that lockdowns are over, that they dont 'have to mask', that they can finally go back to normal, saying casual phrases like 'when lockdowns were here', 'when the pandemic was here', 'back when covid', and every single time they say it they have no idea just how much it hurts that i know ill never get to live the same life as them. ill never know what its like, and i have to live with the knowledge that they would knowingly sacrifice my life to go out drinking with their buddies to celebrate the 'end of lockdowns'.

[another-trans-puppygirl]

I have been out for 4 years and never gave myself the space to express myself properly so i am making it for myself today

(first vent post so apologies for messiness lol)

tw// r*pe, transphobia, parental trauma, not sure what else but idk its heavy for me so just heads up

since i came out my life has changed insurmountably and it has all been terribly overwhelming. ive never really been one to use social media aside from horrifically embarrassing teenage shitposting, so ive just sort of let it all mount up and carried it around. i have a couple of transmasc house mates who i am terribly grateful for and consider them to be family but it has ultimately been terribly lonely not being aroud or talking to other transfems.

i will almost definitely talk about it in more detail on here at some point, but to keep things simple for now, i had very little control over how i came out to my family. it just sort of got revealed to my mum who insisted that my dad and brother (who didn't live with me, messy divorce) would never accept me and otherwise she was very unreactive initially. she feigned support whilst keeping it a secret from everyone in our immediate family but told lots of her friends for about 3 months but had expressed very negative views of trans women before so it felt very false to me. in january 2021 she decided she didnt support my "decision", as well as shouting at me for not telling her i had been r*ped and blamed everything on my dad. i didnt feel safe in her house anymore, so even though it was the middle of a covid-19 lockdown in the uk i had to take all of my belongings with me across almost the whole of england to get myself back to my uni campus. it was easily the worst day of my life and the hardest thing i ever had to do and i havent spoken to her since. i broke my collar bone as a young teenager and carrying all my stuff like that has made it hurt all the time, and i find it so hard not to think about it all whenever the pain is really bad. i was at university for animation, something i had always wanted to do my entire life. i could not bring myself to go to classes for the entire year so i deferred to the next. then i still couldnt bring myself to come in for most of the year. for some reason they didnt kick me out despite my attendance so i tried again the second year, and it went better but i was still really disappointed in myself. in my third year, things got complicated. i started to try really hard and believe i might be getting somewhere. i was the only person in my whole course that was doing traditional animation, my course was advertised as supporting traditional animation but i was not given a tutor so i was totally alone to try and fit my assignments to my limited skillset and resources. i had some ideas for projects i was really passionate about and started to develop and then it happened again and i got overwhelmed and decided i really couldnt do it anymore so i stopped going entirely. during this time i have also wrestled with the fact that i knew deep down that i am a lesbian. recently i have given up fighting it and have accepted that i am a lesbian, i think being on estrogen for one month as of today has played a big part in that, as it has rekindled my emotions and i just cannot fight that feeling anymore. but it has also brought on a terrible loneliness that i think i was suppressing beforehand too, and it has just made me feel incredibly lost. i am really happy somewhere in there about it, but it is overshadowed by a terrible sadness that i have let myself hide away this whole time. it has filled my heart to the brim with love and i feel like i have nowhere to put it and i just want to scream. i have been so scared to say any of this anywhere to anyone for fear of burdening people but i cant keep it inside anymore so i want to shout about it here because i have nowhere else to do it. so if youre reading this i am sorry for taking your time, just know it means the world that anyone even knows any of this and that bending your hypothetical ear will hopefully ease the load even if just for a moment.

[whimsy-of-the-stars]

DraftDash, Day 8

ough today has been a Day, but I’ll talk more about that later. Anyway, I wrote 419 words in my sprint today (and the latest one yet being after 10 pm)! My girl Allison is having worries about her future (and a bunch of other stuff)! ough dark night of the soul time :)

Anyway! The sucky thing about today was that I had to be checked out after first period due me feeling sick :((((( I felt better by noon but I just am still feeling A Little Weird.

also I started watching miraculous ladybug again after pausing in the middle of season 5. MAN that show is wild, and has extremely high stakes at pretty much every episode (of this part of this season!). how are they still coming up with more batshit ways for the plot to go???

one more thing: my school is cancelled tomorrow due to extreme weather so that’s fun! more thoughts below the cut, thought I’d put a break cuz it’s a sensitive topic!

tw: short discussion of Covid-19 lockdown “times” when the world was more affected by it at large, and how this story has my Covid-era experience in it below)

Um. Today I realized just how much this is a book about… COVID-19, and the pandemic! Allison is the same age as I was when it hit. She’s worried about the future (and about a deadly virus), and about high school. So um… does this count as a self insert? It’s more like me from 9 months ago put a “self-from-2020-insert” into it. But not like. Intentionally? There certainly are a bunch of parallels with Covid (probably more than I realized at first) in how the characters feel about the world being disrupted. Should I fix that in the second draft/partial rewrite that I’m eventually gonna do? Idk. It feels like a part of my story (and every other kid who missed a year cuz of covid), but also, it’s way too soon to be telling stories that are clearly allegories for it.

uh bye guys hope the storm doesn’t make me lose power I need it for homework lol