#but anyway. just. angry. on behalf of myself and all other kids who were violent and violated in that place.

[princeoftherunaways]

Did anyone else experience a kind of psychological warfare unlike anything else in community theater as a kid. Or was it just me.

[purplesurveys]

1723

What happened last night? Celeste and I were stuck in Pasay after a private exhibit viewing (work-related) because I absolutely refused to traverse EDSA during rush hour on a Monday, so we killed some time by doing work in my car, then we had dinner at this Chinese restaurant where she taught me how to eat xiaolongbao. We killed some more time there then I drove her and myself home, and we had another one of the heart-to-hearts that would usually happen when she and I are together.

Who is the last boy you hugged? I can't remember. It must have been my dad when I bid goodbye to him while dropping him off at the airport.

What was the last thing you thought? How excited I am to see SE SO NEON. I impulsively bought tickets the second I learned they're coming to Manila this November, but it actually stopped feeling so impulse-y when I made the purchase because I genuinely want to see them. It'll be my first indie gig though so I'm kind of nervous...I imagine I'd just be vibing at the very back. I feel like the front would be filled with much younger kids hahah.

What are you thinking about right now? Well, ^ that. Aren't they essentially the same question?

Would you have sex with the last person you sent a message to? No I think she inconvenienced me enough times today for me to ever entertain that thought.

Would you consider yourself spoiled? When we were younger I definitely felt the sense that I was more spoiled compared to my siblings, but it was always being spoiled for a valid reason – in that they'd get me a book I want or a gadget I've been eyeing if my grades were kept high.

These days, my siblings and I are all adults, and we barely get 'spoiled' anymore; it's been our turn to give back, so to speak.

What was the last text you sent? I just sent back a 'thank you too!'

Do you break things when you are mad? Never. I don't get violent when I'm mad because I've seen other people be exactly that when they're angry and I've always hated it.

Whose hoodie did you last wear besides your own? My sister's.

Did something happen today that made you angry? Yeah. I had this media crew shoot a program segment on the exhibit I've been handling on behalf of my client, and out of the crews I've worked with so far for this thing, they gave me the biggest headache. They were unprepared with their script, the assigned reporter was unsure what to say and had no clue how he was going to be shot (he was also LATE), and the cameramen were so inconsiderate of the paying guests (blocking their view, asking them to move so they can get their desired frame) I had to tell them off a million times to NOT do that and to fuck off from any customer who actually paid money to see the show.

There's also a room in the exhibit where the visuals are timed from start to end, so once you're in you can't get out, in the same way that you won't be let in if you're late. Anyway, this crew decides this is the perfect time to shoot a frame of the reporter walking into the room, but both the dude and the camera guys took SO FUCKING LONG to get their shot that the exhibit staff just closed the doors on them, and I had to tell the crew that they were going to have to wait 30 minutes for the next viewing.

I specifically mapped out my schedule today so that they can end by noon and I can drive back home to make it to my 1 PM meeting on time, but because they missed that part of the show they had to do the entire exhibit all over again. A big chunk of my time then got wasted and I had to take my meeting in the car. -___- I feel bad that I was clearly visibly irritated the entire time...but c'mon. Don't act like VVVVVIPs when we've bent over backwards this whole time to accommodate you on short notice.

What did you do today? I spent 3.5 hours in traffic just to get to ^ that shoot, went home immediately as I was sick of working outdoors (which I've been doing since Friday), then worked at 10x speed to be able to catch up on work that had been piling up since this morning. After work I bought tickets for SE SO NEON and now I'm eating this really really delicious burger from Wendy's.

What did you do Friday night? I was actually monitoring a media crew's shoot for the same exhibit, just for a different show. After that I was stuck in traffic for an offensive amount of time which I felt bad for my Grab driver about and just gave him a massive tip as both a sorry and thanks. I can't remember what I did after... I think I slept early that night - around midnight - because that entire week had left me really exhausted.

Are you afraid of losing the last person you talked to? Mhm. I'm starting to get that feeling of dread more as I get older, too.

Are you lying to yourself about something? Let's go with a yes. I'm slowly coming to terms with what I know to be true, though.

Is your bed comfortable? As a bed it is, but it's a loft bed so I don't have an electric fan in front of me and so it gets really hot and uncomfortable when the weather isn't cooperating. These days I've been sleeping on my foldout sleeping bags positioned below the bed because at least I have an electric fan in this area.

Does it take a lot to make you happy? When I'm already pissed or uncomfortable, yes; but otherwise it is fairly easy to entertain me and make me smile.

Your best friend says to you now, “lets go to a party and get trashed!”? I'll be more surprised that came from her because she's mostly chilled out these days and I'm the friend who's always down to drink and be loud. Anyway, if it's RIGHT NOW right now, I'd probably say yes but I'd negotiate to go somewhere quieter as I need to go to the office tomorrow and it's not the best time to get 'trashed' LOL.

Who knows mainly all of your secrets? Are you still reading this? Then that person would be you. Haha

Can you go a day without thinking about the person that’s on your mind now? I'm not thinking about anyone.

What were you doing at 1 in the morning? Painstakingly trying to sleep. I had a particularly strong cup of coffee yesterday and the caffeine only kicked in the moment I was in bed, as if it did it on purpose.

If someone looked ON your bed, what would they find? Just my comforter and my BT21 plushies. Like I said, I've been sleeping in my sleeping bags these days so my pillows and blanket are here with me below my actual bed.

Were you single over last summer? Yes.

Has anyone ever told you you have pretty eyes? Not my eyes, but I've had people compliment my eyelashes because they're suuuperrr long. Also why I've never needed to put on mascara.

Have you ever been awake for 48 hours straight? I highly doubt that. I would 100% be cranky beyond belief, and I hate being in that state because it's always embarrassing afterwards.

How many different people of the opposite sex have you cried over? My dad, my grandpa, Nacho.

When you think of the rainbow, what pops in your head? Pride.

Is the person you last texted single? No idea, I only met her today.

Was last night terrible? Not terrible, but very exhausting.

[lady-divine-writes]

Stray

Crowley keeps bringing home strays even though Aziraphale tells him not to. They’re going to get in trouble. But this last one is the one that makes Aziraphale start thinking hard about his place on this planet - and whether it’s actual worth being a Principality or not. After all, he’s an angel, right? Shouldn’t he start doing what people - and demons - think angels are supposed to do? (1551 words)

(AO3)

It’s 2:45 on a Friday afternoon when the bell above the door in Aziraphale’s shop rings, and he freezes. He’d been happily cataloging his newest acquisition, his Tolstoy collection, and the time had flown by. But 2:45 is the hour he enjoys least, especially on a Friday – after final bell, when kids from the schools nearby come in with their mothers looking for used copies of whatever passes for classical literature these days.

The lynchpins of their latest assignments.

Why schools don’t seem to want to provide books for their students, Aziraphale can’t understand. It shouldn’t be too hard. After all, one doesn’t require a first edition of Chaucer’s works in order to complete a five-page essay. Aside from that, there are three other bookshops within a ten minute walk from his that handle the sale of mass market paperbacks.

Why does everyone feel the need to stop by his shop first?

Then they have the gall to get angry when he tells them he doesn’t have what they’re looking for and no, he can’t order it, because it’s not worth his time and trouble. What you see on the shelves is what you get, so please take your mediocre book list and your poor attitude and shop somewhere else.

Or call ahead. Save everyone the aggravation.

It probably doesn’t help that, in the grand scheme of the universe, he’s not that particularly fond of children, or their parents. He’s an angel. He loves people in the general sense, and some specific people more than the bulk. But for the most part, he’d rather just be left alone with his books.

If he’d known it was creeping up on 2:45 on a Friday afternoon, he would have closed up shop over an hour ago.

Without even knowing who they are or why they’re there, he considers this customer a harbinger of doom. Therefore he’ll see to their needs (if he can) and then close up shop immediately after.

Then he can enjoy his Tolstoy in peace.

In the silence that accompanies the ringing of that bell (since he’s holding his breath) he hears two sets of footsteps shuffling through the shop.

One he recognizes.

The other makes him roll his eyes.

He sets his shoulders, hurries out past the stacks and shelves, and without looking at his husband, he says, “No.”

“Aziraphale!”

“Crowley! This is the fifth time this month!”

“I know, I know, but this is different!”

“That’s what you always say!”

“But this time it’s the truth!”

“Crowley! You can’t keep bringing them home with you! We simply don’t have the space to keep them all!”

“Aziraphale …” Crowley tilts his head and cocks his hip “… that is the weirdest thing you have ever said to me. We’re supernatural entities!” Aziraphale hushes his demon, but Crowley doesn’t drop his voice a whit. “We can make space! Literally create space! Look! I’ll snap my fingers and make a new back room to your shop, easy peasy!”

Crowley lifts his hand, but Aziraphale puts his hand over it, fixing him with a deadly stare.

“Don’t. You. Dare. Crowley! It’s not just about the space! You can’t keep doing this! You can’t keep bringing in every single sad story you find on the street!”

“Aziraphale, you don’t understand …”

“Yes, I do! I do understand! But, I’ve told you …” Aziraphale stops when he feels his temper rising, knowing that his voice must be climbing with it. He can’t forget, they’re not alone, and the other one among them might be confused and scared “… parents raise their voices at their children. And sometimes they spank. I don’t particularly approve of the practice myself, but it doesn’t mean they’re bad parents! You can’t keep kidnapping kids from their parents and nannies! Someone’s going to be by with the police soon! Now take him or her home!”

“This wasn’t a misunderstanding!” Crowley pleads, chasing down Aziraphale as he storms off to the refuge of his private workspace. “You weren’t there, angel! You didn’t see what they were doing to him! They were yelling at him! A-and hitting him!”

“Spanking him?”

“Hitting him! Look at his eye!”

Aziraphale crosses his arms over his chest, decidedly unmoving, done with this argument before they’ve truly gotten started.

“Look, Aziraphale!” Crowley gestures toward a chair in the corner – a corner that was once a reading room sort of set up until it, too, became overrun by Aziraphale’s massive book collection, very few of which ever actually leave his shop. Sitting in the chair is a tiny waif of a creature; his body, curled tight over his arms wrapped around his stomach, thinner than it probably should be; his dark, straight hair matted over his face. He sniffles but fights to stay quiet, trying to keep from making a sound. Maybe he thinks if he makes himself small and silent, he’ll be invisible. Aziraphale knows this.

He’s seen it before.

“You know, there are authorities to handle this sort of thing,” he says, but with none of his usual fire.

“Yeah, and when’s the last time authorities have ever done anything worth two shits when it really mattered?”

Aziraphale isn’t trying to be purposefully cold. He’s trying to come up with a solution. As ironic as it sounds, angels can’t save everyone – not the way Crowley thinks they should. Aziraphale’s job is to inspire humanity, teach them to love one another, care for one another. He’s not supposed to interfere too much. Though now that taking on actual assignments from the head office are less of a concern for him, and he’s gotten the opportunity to pick and choose who he helps and how, he’s often wondered what good his overall job does anyway. Look at the accomplishments of humans by way of actual humanity.

Besides, the last person who came to Earth preaching kindness and compassion, they nailed to a cross.

Aziraphale approaches the boy, walking towards him slowly so as not to frighten him. The boy doesn’t look up, but he goes visibly rigid, and Aziraphale’s heart does a double thump. As Aziraphale gets closer, the boy begins to shiver, shaking so violently by the time he reaches him, the legs of the chair knock the floor. Aziraphale doesn’t touch him. Instead, he gets on his knees and looks up at him the best he can. The boy tries to hide his face, but before he does, Aziraphale catches a glimpse of his eye – along with the other cuts and bruises marring his face, one that quite vividly resembles a cigarette burn.

“Good Lord,” he whispers, getting back to his feet, backing away and leaving him be. He straightens his vest, glancing at his husband pacing beside him, too worked up to stand still. “And where, exactly, do his parents think he is?”

“I’ve made them believe he’sss run off,” Crowley hisses in agitation. “I wanted to rack them with guilt, but …” He scoffs “… they’re not even looking for him. Sonsss of bitchesss.”

Aziraphale dusts the knees of his trousers, fusses with his tie. “Fine, then. He can stay. And we’ll … we’ll figure things out.”

The boy stops shaking. He goes a little less rigid. A moment later, he starts to cry. It’s a sound that hits at the heart of Aziraphale because it’s neither good nor bad. It’s both, and that’s when he knows he’s in trouble.

Crowley isn’t wrong. They need to do something because, often times, no one else will. This isn’t an isolated incident. Aziraphale knows that. And as much as he goes on about Crowley’s newfound habit of kidnapping children (probably prompted, in part, by Warlock’s parents moving him to the states) there’ve been a handful that Aziraphale, steadfast in his convictions, felt uneasy sending home to their parents.

But that also means Gabriel, as much as Aziraphale hates to admit it, is also not wrong.

Being a Principality in this day and age is kind of a sick joke.

Inspire humanity?

Sometimes Aziraphale wonders what’s left to inspire. And good luck appealing to the faithful. So few people have faith nowadays as it is, and those who claim to tend to twist it to fit their own agendas.

It’s made him bitter, and somewhat hardened to the plight of men.

But he’d be a hypocrite to persecute them for that. Angels have done the same for millennia, and he’s not immune. He recognizes that he himself has quite a bit to atone for, and not with regard to the temptations he did on Crowley’s behalf, but for the work he’s done in the name of God.

Especially where it comes to children.

There have definitely been times when Crowley, a demon, has had humanity’s best interests at heart better than he.

Aziraphale walks to the front door, motioning for his husband to follow. He throws the locks and switches the open sign to closed, beginning to devise a plan for what will undoubtedly become they’re newest acquisitions together. He turns to his husband and puts his arms around him, hugs him tight until Crowley hugs him back.

“My dear?”

“Yes, angel?”

“Why don’t you go ahead and make me that new room. I have a feeling … we’re going to be needing it from now on.”

[theincredibledash]

Schoolyard Fight Club || The Fast & The Furious

Dash bumps into Ariel and Spinelli at school... [Dated: December 11th]

@ariel-the-rebel​, @tough-girl-spinelli​

[tw: violence]

ARIEL: Ariel hadn’t woken up that morning with murder on her mind.

That morning, she was only focused on the last few band practices she’d have before it was time for the break. They had a performance to prepare for - Christmas themed, of course - and she was already going over her part in her head. It was really the only thing on her mind that day, and she was zoning out of class. Even walking out with Spinelli, on her way to practice, she was twirling one her drumsticks, the other tapping quietly against her thigh as she listened to her friend. It had become much more common than usual for her to zone out like this - though it’s unclear if it’s to distract herself from the werewolf incident on Halloween or she was just really into the concert this year.

It was just another day, leading into another cold winter break - until she snapped out of her zone outside when she smacked into someone outside as they both came around the corner at the same time. She yelped, dropping her drumsticks and taking a step back from the other.

“What the hell! You can’t just stand…” She started but stopped upon inspection and sirens went off in her head. Oh, not this guy again. “If it isn’t the electrifying let down from Town Hall. Do all Americans just stand in doorways waiting around?”

DASH: Dash regarded his first few weeks of school as a success. He had made a somewhat good impression with the Ashley’s, made friends with the other track kids, and was keeping up with his classes just fine. He had his reservations about moving all the way to England, but it seemed to be working out just fine. Surprisingly enough, his usual bullying was down from his previous school. Maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t solidified himself as a true “popular kid” yet, or that he was just getting to know who was who in the school, but he didn’t really feel the urge to go knocking nerds’ heads around .

That was until he rounded the corner and slammed into the redhead. 

He instinctively growled, “Watch it!” before he registered who he had run into. It was that bitch from town hall! He recognized her in an instant, but her shitty attempt at an insult confirmed that it definitely was the Mudkip-loving asshole. The girl next to her, though, he did not recognize, but he didn’t need to know who she was to know she was probably some shitty friend of hers.

“Do all Brits not look where they’re going?” he retorted, his lips curling into an angry sneer. He started to step forward, but his foot brushed up against the drumsticks. Payback. With a ‘tch’, he stepped on them, but not hard enough to break them. Yet.

“Drumsticks? You a band nerd or something?”

SPINELLI: Like Ariel, Spinelli had not woken up with murder on her mind. She might have let the shitty manners slide had he simply grumbled his protest and let them pass, but the second the blonde American sleazeball took a menacing step towards her best friend, stepping on her prized drumsticks, that all changed.

In an instant, Spinelli was in his face—she didn’t touch him. Yet. But her fists clenched at her sides and her expression twisted into a baleful glare that promised a world of hurt if he made a wrong move. 

Honestly, if looks could kill, this boy would be a goner.

“What did you just say, blondie?” she growled in a low voice, not even a little intimidated by the slimy prick towering over her as she cracked her knuckles.

DASH: Dash tried to hold back his laughter as the brunette squared up with him, but it burst from his chest, boisterous and loud. Was this a joke? The nerds of this school were feisty weren’t they? And was that a hint of a New York accent? Seemed like he wasn’t the only American around. His gaze focused back on his original target as his laughs died down.

“Can’t fight so you have yourself a little guard dog, huh? Isn’t that cute,” he mocked, his smirk stretching longer across his face. He directed his sneer back down to the indignant girl in front of him, his shoulders moving back and chest puffing out a little as he continued with his insults. “And are you trying to be intimidating? Because you’ve got to grow a few inches if you are.” 

ARIEL: It was like a siren had gone off the moment he touched one of her drumsticks. She took a step forward as well, but Spinelli was already moving in front of her and up into the guy’s face. Still, Ariel glared over her friend’s shoulder.

“Well maybe you should grow up and quit picking fights everywhere you go!” She huffed. Seriously, how long had this guy even been in town? He had no right to be running around trying to challenge anyone. Especially Spinelli. “Or are you set on getting your ass kicked?”

SPINELLI: Was this douchebag for real?! Seriously?! He was mocking her! Even Kyle Henry, the biggest, stupidest, meathead bully in school had more sense than this guy. 

Spinelli didn’t break eye contact with the kid as Ariel spoke, responding with a snarl as she grabbed fistfuls of the guy’s shirt in both hands and yanked him down so he was forced to hunch over and look her in the eye. 

“You must be new around here,” she added, her voice a low, angry growl, “so I’m not going to knock your teeth out—yet. I don’t know who you are, aside from the fact that you’re a disgusting bully who’s been picking fights with too many of my friends now, but I’m warning you now to watch your step or, as Ariel said, you’re going to wind up getting your ass kicked, do I make myself clear?”

DASH: It had been a while since someone had chosen to tousle with Dash. The familiar pull of his shirt usually brought him up instead of down, but he wasn’t about to discount this girl just because of that. She had that fury in her eyes he knew well, - it always came up when he struck a nerve - and she wasn’t backing down. 

Though her little monologue had him confused. He hadn’t picked fights with anyone in the school yet. She must have had him confused with someone else. He couldn’t help but look a little puzzled, but that quickly turned into a taunting grin as he grabbed both her wrists.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about, but thanks for the credit anyway,” he claimed, refusing to back down, even after her threat. “And I’d be more worried about your ass getting kicked. You don’t know who you’re messing with.” 

He ground his foot harder into the drumsticks, and they strained against his sneaker and the ground. How much more would it take to snap them? 

ARIEL: Maturally, Ariel stuck her tongue out at the guy as her friend basically growled at him. That should scare him enough…

Or so she thought.

Her eyes went to her friend’s wrists as he grabbed them, then down to her poor stick. “Hey, hey, hey!” She shouted, pushing her way between them with her much smaller form, trying to remove the guy from her friend’s space and off her property. “Careful!”

While she’d love to see this guy get decked into next week by one of Spinelli’s signature moves, she also didn’t want her getting into another fight. Especially on her behalf. Or her stuff being broken. So she kept herself planted between them, glaring up at him from between his arms.

And in that moment, she was not a fighter. Never had been one, and she had just placed herself essentially in No Man’s Land.

SPINELLI: Spinelli wasn’t phased one bit by the kid grabbing her wrists. Like, seriously? A quick flick of her wrists would have her free to take him down and leave him talking like a little girl for the next month.

But then Ariel jumped between them, planting herself in the very small space between herself and the jerk she was ready to pound. It felt like her stomach had turned to ice. With Her wrists were still trapped, and Ariel so close, Spinelli couldn’t do anything but glare without risking hurting her friend. So she let go of the guy’s shirt, trying to shove him away, but not quite managing to break his grip.

“Right,” she scoffed over Ariel’s shoulder, rolling her eyes. “Like you’re going to kick my ass. I’m sure your mother would be so proud to know her son was threatening girls half his size.” She laughed humorlessly, raising a challenging eyebrow and added, “Just like the headmaster will be when he finds out.”

DASH: Dash smirked as the redhead got between him and his target. She didn’t want her precious drumsticks broken, huh? Well that all but made up his mind about it. He stared down at her, ready to lock eyes and snap the pieces of wood beneath his feet, but her friend’s voice shifted his gaze to her. His foot lifted slightly.

And then the haughty smirk was wiped from his face. 

No one used his mother against him. The sarcasm oozing from her words made his blood boil. His mom was proud of him and he was going to keep it that way! Sure, he’d get in trouble for picking a fight, but he’d explained away so many in the past, and it’d be well worth it to put this bitch in her place. 

His lips curled, baring his teeth in a snarl. His grip on her wrists tightened before he shoved her away from him and let go. His eyes glared daggers at her as he shifted his weight back.

Snapsnap!

ARIEL: “Dude!” Ariel gasped, immediately dropping to the ground to pick up the poor remains of her treasured sticks. Thankfully, this wasn’t the pair that Finn had given her for her Birthday - but every pair she did have was special to her. Because she was sentimental (and a hoarding mermaid).

She wasn’t going to cry, totally not. But her particularly watery eyes turned up to him with a sharp glare.”You piece of shit!” 

Again, Ariel was not a fighter. In that moment though, she wish she was. She wished she could throw a strong punch like Spinelli and knock this guy’s lights out. The disrespect towards her, her friend, and her property was really pushing her towards a violent desire. 

Or at least, the urge to act on one.

SPINELLI: She’d tried. Really, Spinelli had put forth an effort to not, in fact, knock this loser’s lights out. It was almost Christmas and she wanted to make to the end of the term without getting yet another detention. Honestly, she deserved a medal for how long she’d managed to not hit the guy.

But between the snapping of Ariel’s sticks and her friend’s tearful face, Spinelli’s hold on her self control snapped like a twig. “Bloody prick!” she shrieked, seeing red as she lunged, throwing her shoulder into his stomach and tackling him to the ground.

The crowded school hallway around them erupted into chaos around them as students gasped and shouted. “Fight! Fight!” they chanted and called out from the sidelines, running to see who exactly was getting pounded this time.

Spinelli ignored this, completely used to being a spectacle—her mother was going to murder her. But she didn’t care. This prick needed to be taught a lesson. She used her small frame against him, sitting on his chest and pulling back her fist, readying to throw a punch straight to that pretty face of his as she leaned in to hiss, “I tried to warn you, but like all of the stupid pricks around here, you didn’t listen.”

DASH: The redhead had distracted him. That’s what Dash told himself as he crashed to the floor. Her little tears over her precious drumsticks gave him that sweet satisfaction, but they also had him looking away. And now he was at a disadvantage underneath the short, fighty bitch. The chants around them were an old tune he’d heard before, and they put him in the right headspace. He wasn’t about to let her get the upper-hand here. 

The bitch shouldn’t have taken the moment to insult him. It was precious time lost for her and his to gain as he reached up toward her fist and grabbed it, twisting her arm out painfully. The other hand went to her head and shoved her in the same direction as her twisted arm. He forced her off as he pushed himself up, snarling as the fire from her earlier insult still burned with fury in his chest.

He wasn’t one for words anymore. He was focused on the fight now.

SPINELLI: Spinelli roared in pain as her arm twisted at an odd angle away from her body. Fuck! That hurt! As she was forced to the ground, she managed to shift her weight so she made it to her back. She couldn’t reach him with her fists, so it was time to get creative.

Not taking the time to get up, she waited for him to get to his feet—whimpering like the poor little girl the prick probably assumed her to be before swinging her leg behind his knees, sending him crashing back to the ground where he landed on his back. Good. She rolled and was back on him in a flash, her twisted arm still smarting but not out of commission by a long shot. 

This time, she wasted no time in getting her punches in—to his chest, his shoulder and a particularly savage punch to his eye. 

DASH: For a moment, Dash felt like he had won. A whine escaped the girl on the ground and he started to smirk, the sense of success already coming to him. But she surprised him. His hubris was to blame for his distraction now as he fell to the ground, the back of his head smacking the floor with an audible thud! 

Dazed, he didn’t register her getting on top of him again until he felt her punches. It was too late to defend himself as the assault continued, but the blow to his face snapped him out of it. He cried out as the pain shot through his eye. 

That was it. He was done holding back. He knew how severe the consequences of revealing his powers were, but only being a little bit faster wasn’t going to get him found out.

As another fist came down at him, he caught it in his hand, gripping it tight. Before she could bring down her other fist, he clenched his free hand and punched up in quick succession. One-Two-Three-Four. He wished all of them had hit her face but his head was still swimming from earlier. There were glancing blows to her shoulder, but he had gotten a good swing at her nose.

ARIEL: The fight erupted before her eyes. She hadn’t even blink, and Spinelli and the jerk were on the ground, laying into each other. As chants and other students surrounded them, she felt her heart rate pick up as she panicked for her friend.

Don’t get it wrong. Spinelli was a badass in her eyes. No one could take her, and she wasn’t pushed around so easily (like Ariel clearly was). But as the boy started getting punches in as well, the worry invaded her senses and she realized she just should have ducked her head and kept walking if this was going to be the result.

“Stop it!” Was all the redhead could shout before she dove in as well, trying to stop him from punching her friend. Unlike him though, she couldn’t just grab someone’s moving fist out of the air.

DASH: Before Dash could detect any retaliation from his assault, a different pair of hands came into view. It was that fucking redhead bitch! He hadn’t heard her cry to stop, so immediately assumed she was trying to start fighting him too. In that moment, his rage peaked. Two against one? Now that was just plain unfair!

His fist reeling back from his last punch, he twisted his body just enough to angle it and throw it right back out again, but this time straight into the interfering girl’s stomach. In the next moment he had grabbed a fistful of her shirt closer to her chest, and twisted his body in the other direction, pulling her into her friend and trying to knock them into each other. Two birds with one stone.

SPINELLI: Though her rage spiked when he grabbed her fist, Spinelli held her own for the first three punches—one, two, three punches to the shoulder. She smirked, a taunt on the tip of her tongue when her head snapped back, accompanied by a crunching sound and a searing pain throbbing in the center of her face. Fuck! The asshole got her in the nose! 

Rather than deter her, it fueled her on. And she was ready! Still sitting on his chest, she lunged forward to grab his free hand and stop it from swinging—maybe she’d break it on principle—when another pair of hands entered the fray. 

Oh shit! Ariel had come to her aid. Spinelli panicked and hesitated, not wanting her friend to get hurt. The hesitation cost them both as the prick punched Ariel right in the stomach, attempting to knock her into to Spinelli. But she dodge and lunged again with a howl of rage on behalf of her injured friend, ready to strike when a hand grabbed the back of her shirt with a shout, pulling her off of the boy.

“That will be quite enough Ms. Spinelli!” Ugh. It was Ms. Finnster, the stodgy old hall monitor and general distributor of punishments and consequences. In her rage, Spinelli had tried to wrestle from her grip to rush back to get Ariel away from the guy, but several other teachers had dashed from their nearby classrooms to break up the fight. 

Ms. Finnster glared at her and sighed, “Again, Spinelli? What are we going to do with you? Just—go to the nurse—”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re bloody nose suggests otherwise,” Ms. Finnster snapped, adding, “And then, straight to the Headmaster’s office. They’ll be expecting you. Now go.” 

Spinelli wasn’t going anywhere without Ariel—she hurried over to her friend, looking her over and completely ignoring the boy. “Hey, you ok?”

ARIEL: Ariel really wasn’t trying to fight! But of course, a blow hit her right in the stomach, and she was knocked back onto the ground from the fight. It had her buckled over, unable to defend herself if the kid started swinging her way again.

Instead, something much worse happened - Finnster’s arrival. Uh oh.

As the older woman pulled the two kids apart, she only spared Ariel a glance as she stood on her own. She hadn’t gotten a bloody nose from the fight after all, so she was hardly a sight to bat an eye at compared to her friend. Who she was more worried about than herself.

“Yeah...I’m not the one with blood on their face though…” She admitted with a small huff and hand on her stomach. “I know you’re no stranger to it, but you got to stop throwing your face in front of fists.” It was an attempt at teasing despite the trouble they were in. And also her way of ignoring the boy.

DASH: Fuck.

Dash had lost his chance to gain the upper hand as his human projectile was dodged. He saw the rage in the girl’s face and heard her scream. His arms tucked in close to his body, fists by his face, ready to protect and defend himself, but he blinked and suddenly she was getting pulled off of him. On some level, he was thankful for the fighting to be over, but on another, he just wanted to keep punching her face in.

The shrill tones of the hall monitor pierced his ears and made his head ring something awful. He stood slowly, reorienting himself with that of an upright world, and realized that most students had been shooed off. And that a teacher was closing in on him. This is what he hated about school fights. All of the nagging and tongue-clicking and head-shaking on the march to the principal’s office (or the headmaster’s or whatever they called it here). 

But he knew that wasn’t the worst part. The worst was yet to come.

He glared daggers at the two girls as he was ushered away. He felt accomplished for having busted her nose, but it wasn’t enough in his opinion. As much as he had gained some respect for her fighting skills, he still wanted to flatten her out. Maybe he’d get the chance to in the future, but for now, he stood tall as his footsteps echoed through the halls.

SPINELLI: In spite of her now throbbing blood covered face, Spinelli laughed, sensing that the boy was now walking away, but choosing not to acknowledge it. “Pfft. This? I’d do it again in a heartbeat. My nose will stop bleeding in the next few minutes, but his eye will be purple for the next week.”

She looped her arm through her friend’s and they started down the hall towards the nurse’s office. Though she was the picture of ease and nonchalance, her mind was racing. First point of business was the make sure everyone knew that Ariel was completely innocent. She’d feel awful if her friend ended up in detention because of Spinelli’s hot head. 

Secondly, she had been in a lot of fights over the years and she’d never met anyone who could punch like that––he’d hit her, what? Four times in a row? How had he done it? Punched so fast and hard so many times? What was his story? Aside from being an arrogant, hot headed prick, of course.

Before all of that, she had to face the nurse. Hopefully, she’d keep the fussing and glaring and lecturing to a minimum. Spinelli was certain there would be plenty of that in the headmaster’s office. Until then she’d keep her head high and face whatever was to come. 

[whistlingpig]

I’m going to vanish for a while, but before I do, I think I should explain myself so nobody gets the wrong idea:

A few days ago, I stumbled across a TikTok video of a fat girl showing off her bathing suit. Against my better judgement, I looked at the comment section. It was filled with trolls repeating the same tired fat jokes I’ve heard a thousand times before. At this point, they shouldn’t hurt. But they do. And I haven’t been able to get them out of my head

Every time I’m forced to share the same space with another human being, I find myself wondering... do they feel this way about me? Are they offended by my stomach, my rolls, my chins? Are they just pretending to be nice? 

It’d be different if being fat was the only thing I had working against me, but I’m also extremely socially awkward, stupid, and uncoordinated. I stumble over my words, I lisp, I blurt out dumb observations at the wrong times, ask questions with obvious answers. Furniture creaks when I sit on it, I breathe heavy, I’m clumsy/accident prone, and I’m ugly! 

If I had my way, I’d live like a hermit. I’ve never enjoyed socializing; it’s draining for me. Even after a positive social interaction, I need to retreat to the safety of my bedroom and recharge for several days As the saying goes: you don’t just marry a person - you marry the whole family. It’s true. And for me, it’s been a never-ending nightmare of awkward exchanges. I’m quite certain at this point that my father-in-law despises me. Why wouldn’t he, after all? I’ve never given him a reason to like me! I believe my mother-in-law simply tolerates me because it’s necessary in order to keep in contact with her beloved son. I think... long before we ever actually met, they formed negative opinions of me based on things Jim told them: that I was an alcoholic, that I was in and out of the hospital for various ‘mystery’ ailments, that I was pushy, physically violent when drunk, mentally ill, and unable to work. I’m definitely not the person they hoped their son would spend the rest of his life with

It’s not my intention to catalogue every passive-aggressive remark my in-laws make around me.. I don’t want to be the kind of person who collects grievances and plays the victim-card. That’s what my sister does! However, because I have such thin skin, I find it difficult to let other peoples’ comments roll off my back

A couple of recent examples: 

- My MIL asked Jim and me to take a couple photos of her with her husband. We happily obliged. When we’d finished, she insisted they turn the camera on us. I laughed it off and said I don’t do photos. She just wouldn’t take no for an answer, though.. She kept telling us to pose. Jim could sense I was panicking - he pulled his mom aside to explain that I’m very uncomfortable with having my photo taken. She finally relented and I thought “whew, crisis averted!”. But later, as we were standing on the porch together, she turned to me and said, “if I ever take a photo of you, just know I’m not trying to steal your soul.” I just laughed. She doesn’t know I used to spend hours photographing myself from different angles, then circling the parts of my body I hated most. She doesn’t know I used to cover my mirrors. She doesn’t know how unhealthy my relationship with my own body is. And how could she? It’s my problem, not hers! But her flippant remark not only hurt my feelings, it made me feel as if my past trauma had somehow inconvenienced HER. I should have sucked it up and let her take the photo. She would have showed it to us. I would have spent the night having a meltdown. I wanted to avoid that

- We accompanied my MIL to the church to look at leftovers from a rummage sale. The idea was to get some cheap clothes/shoes. As soon as we arrived, I started looking for things I might be able to wear. Jim wandered off to the other end of the building to look at toys. He kept holding up silly items to show me and at one point I jokingly said, “hey, you aren’t even looking at clothes!!” His mom must have thought I was genuinely angry because she kinda snapped at me that “he can look at other things if he wants.” Jim and I engage in playful banter all the time; neither of us are serious! It isn’t the first time she’s felt the need to rush to his defense when she didn’t like the way we were kidding around. It’s kind of bizarre? She got angry when we were going through his old school journals and laughing at the misspelled words/crayon drawings. We weren’t laughing at JIM! Just at the silly things he wrote/drew.

- Today I was putting together a small package for my mom. I went in the bedroom to get a piece of paper for a note & when I came back out to the living room, Jim was gone. I said, “I never know where my husband goes! He vanished again!” My FIL replied: “It’s a husband thing. He’s doing it to save himself.” Maybe he said protect? I can’t recall. Either way, the gist of the joke was that husbands need to get away from their wives so they don’t go crazy. I laughed and sarcastically said, “oh come on, I know he loves spending every waking moment of his life with me.” Didn’t catch whatever FIL said next, but I think it must’ve been mean-spirited or something because MIL apologized on his behalf. This was shortly before I was reminded of the 4th of July, 2018. When I was pressured into trying to ride a horse, AFTER I’d expressed concerns over my weight being an issue. She insisted I try to get in the saddle, even though I wasn’t comfortable. It ended with her in the ER with a dislocated shoulder. Jack was furious. Today I was reminded about how he had to drive her to the ER and spend the evening in the waiting room with a bunch of weirdos. Just a joke, of course. But not really. Because he really was angry. And it really did ruin his night. But just a joke, of course.

I feel like everyone expected some sort of magical transformation to occur as soon as I was removed from the toxic shithole I used to live in. Maybe they thought I’d “come out of my shell”? That, instead of being overwhelmed, I’d embrace the idea of joining their enormous family and fit right in! The opposite happened. At first, I forced myself to be around them... As time went on, I returned to my reclusive lifestyle. Keeping others at arm’s length might make me look like a snob, but it’s how I’ve always been. It probably won’t change any time soon.

MIL and I are very different. When I get a package, I wait for the UPS driver to leave before I run out to grab it. She’ll meet the UPS driver at the door and have a 45-minute conversation with him

Anyway, the bottom line is.... I don’t belong here. After almost a year, I can say that with confidence. I’m not cut out to be part of a family! This has been weighing on my mind heavily for the past several months. Now I’m beginning to obsess over my weight/appearance again. I’m an insecure mess. I’m also rationing my medications........ it’s a perfect recipe for disaster

The other night, Jim’s cousin asked us over for hot dogs & drinks. I made an appearance - ONLY because it’s been so long since I’ve seen him and his girlfriend. I don’t want them to think I’m avoiding them! I feel like it didn’t go very well, though... As a fat person, eating in front of others is always complicated. On the one hand, I don’t want to offend the host by refusing food they cooked specifically for me. On the other, I don’t want to attract attention by being a fat woman eating a hot dog, lmao. The right thing to do would have been to decline - to give the impression I actually give a rat’s ass about my weight. Jim’s cousin’s girlfriend did that - and she probably only weighs like 100 pounds. I noticed, every time I took a bite of my hot dog, she stared. Why? Because you’re disgusted? Entertained? Are you asking yourself what my husband sees in me? You ignore everything I post on Instagram, but you like everything my husband posts. I notice these things. I wish I didn’t, but I do. I drank a cider. I got tipsy. I laughed a little too loud at jokes that weren’t funny. My teeth were throbbing. I made a bad impression. She kept looking at me, but every time I tried to make eye contact, she turned away

I could lose weight. By that, I mean, it’s physically possible. Do I have the self-control to stop guzzling soda and eating fast food? Probably not. But I’m off the market, I’m married, my husband likes to grind his hard dick against my stomach and knead my love-handles while I lie on top of him. Does it matter what anyone else thinks? I guess it does. Maybe It does when nobody knows he likes me this way. That he tells me he prefers fat women

Yeah, I could lose weight. Do I really want to, though? If I lost 100 pounds & suddenly began receiving compliments from the same people who treated me like a leper when I was fat.... Would I want that? No. You can take your beauty-standards and shove them up your ass. I don’t want to lose weight to win the approval of people who wouldn’t give me the time of day when I was fat

But it isn’t her fault she was disgusted by me. She takes care of her body

You know what I want? More than anything? Money. Enough money to live comfortably. Alone. I don’t want to die. I just want to remove myself from this bad situation. Live in solitude. Give Jim back to his family

And I want to vanish from the internet, too. Because if you knew me in real life, you’d be disappointed. If you like me online, it just means I’ve somehow managed to fool you. I would like to be forgotten! Move on, make real friends, and succeed!

I’m not stupid. I mean, I am. But I’m aware my social media accounts are just a source of entertainment for the handful of people who follow ‘em. I’m not quite... oh, what do they call it on Kiwifarms? A Lolcow? My meltdowns occur on a small, mostly empty corner of the internet. At least they’re still funny

Thanks for reading, if you did. I’ll be going now.