#high school bullying

[furiousgoldfish]

When abused children get bullied at school it sends a slightly different message to them.

Bullying in general, can be terrifying because of the violence, destruction, toxic social hierarchy that is imposed on the bullied child, the humiliation and the social abuse can be traumatic and scarring, and there's a lack of protection, social isolation and knowledge that even in the public setting, you can be hurt and others will do nothing to help you, nobody will stand up for you. That is, ultimately, rejection from your entire social circle; you're unwanted among your peers, they don't find you worthy of saving, or physical safety. It makes you distrust the society, and the good in people.

But abused kids also get this at home, so it's nothing new; for those abused extensively at home, bullying can even seem like not such a big deal. It was like that for me. When life at home would be a constant death threat, few kids at school destroying my things and mocking me in public seemed like a minor inconvenience. Nothing short of life-threatening violence would even upset me, and the kids at my high school weren't looking to go that far.

Looking back though, I understand that it did more than upset me, it let me know that I'm unwanted everywhere. For those abused in their homes, the only hope is the escape in the outside world, where we could dream, that someone would care enough to make sure we're safe, that the don't die from lack of resources, that we could possibly be loved and protected. But bullying puts an end to that hope before we can even start. It tells us, no, public is just the same as home. There's nothing for you anywhere, we don't want you either. It's going to be the same for you everywhere. It's because you're different and weird and unlovable that this is happening to you; you can see it's not happening to other people, so it must be your fault directly that everyone hates you.

I haven't realized for a long time, how far it reinforced the message of the abusive parents, that I deserve this. That in my case, it was normal, and that I'm ultimately unlovable and nobody could possibly want or protect me. 'Something is wrong with you so we're going to hurt you' is the mantra both of the bullies, and the abusive parents. It goes hand in hand. And having no space where I could relax or feel like I'm not going to get hurt, made the world a worse place for me to live in. Regardless of whether I fought back or not, it didn't change the fact that I was surrounded with people who wished to hurt me, and would take any chance to do so. It made me feel that there is no escape. I was just too weird and something was deeply wrong with me, and everyone could see it and agree upon it.

Except it's not true. Nothing was wrong with me, I was only unprotected. I would have been just fine left alone. Nothing I did was any incentive for any of these people to do harm to me. It was their choice to do so, to make the world less safe for those who don't have anyone standing in their corner, and nowhere to turn to.

What society tells us about us sticks with us for a long time. A message repeated long enough, from enough sources, will end up etched in our brain, without us having the ability to scrub it off. We're sensitive to how we're being perceived, and out perception is affected by what other tell us about us. So when people tell us the worst possible things, no matter how untrue, they stick. We can't know immediately, that they're saying it only to excuse and rationalize their own gross actions. We can't know that they need to say it, in order to frame their crimes against us as just and normal, when they're anything but. It takes intense and conscious training to link people's spoken opinions of us, to what they're intending to do to us. It takes a lot to realize that when they're talking with hatred in their voice about us, they're doing so only in order to create a fake scenario in which they are allowed to hurt us. They don't know or perceive us at all, they only perceive a situation where they can get away with causing harm. Our only crime is existing, unprotected.

[unqualifiedadvicecolumnist]

One thing I’ve noticed that TV and movies always show is the popular kids bullying the unpopular kids. But at my school it wasn’t like that. The popular kids ignored those of us who were unpopular. I was bullied by a fellow unpopular kid.

[incognitopolls]

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[marvelsmostwanted]

I love Democratic messaging (Kamala’s version)

[warcriminalpastry]

max and lewis post spanish gp conference after “10x wdc laughing” at lando:

[thegreatidk]

My biggest beef with the way Annabeth was written in the show is that I think Rick fell into his own trap. Like his whole thing with Annabeth is that just because someone doesn’t look smart doesn’t mean they aren’t. And while it’s about their literal looks for both the show and the book, book Annabeth also sometimes acted in ways that people wouldn’t stereotypically associate with “smart” because I think we’ve all be condition to think bbc sherlock no emotions genius is the only way to be smart. Book Annabeth acts super flustered around Luke because she's a kid and she has a crush on him, she's afraid of spiders, and wanted to see the arch just because she thought it was cool. In general book Annabeth is allowed to be sillier and have a wider range of emotions than show Annabeth without it detracting from the fact that Annabeth is smart. I find this whole "stoic genius" idea is often used to put down teenage girls for being dumb and superficial just because they show emotions and the only way to beat it is to be cold, calculating, and emotionless and most people just aren't like that.

[divineandmajesticinone]

LET FREE THE CURSE OF TAEKWONDO I EP. 04 Are you okay? No, I'm not.

[navycat305]

Something something Max Jagerman prevented Pete from shooting his shot with Steph when he was alive by beating him up and then prevented Steph from shooting her shot with Pete as a ghost by stopping the fucking bullet she was trying to shoot him with

[bixels]

This Twitter MLP human redesign drama is a mess, leave me the fuck out of it.

[valtsv]

my dad's aversion to fiction is really funny because i'm his eldest and the most like him out of anyone in the family but i'm basically off in fantasyland 24/7 dedicating my life to the grind of caring about imaginary people and things and he's just like hm. lame!

[incognitopolls]

Politicians and school admins seem to think that kids are always bullying each other over brands, and anon thinks they're just deflecting from the real social reasons behind bullying, such as racism, homophobia, fatphobia, ableism, etc.

This is asking about clothing, accessories, gadgets & gizmos, etc.

–

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[sexy-sapphic-sorcerer]

series 1–2 Arthur radiating fuckboy jock energy

[cubbihue]

POV: You just got apprehended by your own lawyer.

Chimmy Changa spent his early years as a Public Defense Lawyer. He had to get really into shape because. For some reason. He kept getting clients who'd bolt from the court room.

[Prev] > [Next]

+ bonus sketches i tossed out becuase i couldnt draw them to my satisfaction >:I !!

[dhmis-autism]

been thinking about them lately ok

[rose24207]

Nerd in love

Summary: A kind-hearted cheerleader befriends the school’s shy, bullied nerd, standing up for him and forming a heartfelt bond that defies expectations and whispers.

Genre: Nerdy!Lando, Au, fluff

TW: None!

A/N: lando with glasses has my heart!!! So why not make a cute story out of it where it’s set in a school and he’s being bullied? More of that? Let me know!! Also do you guys think I should leave space between the paragraphs like before or should I make the space smaller like rn?? English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

You’re standing at your locker, rearranging the books you’ll need for the day, when you see him again. Lando Norris, with his glasses slipping down his nose and his arms awkwardly full of notebooks, is shuffling through the hallway.

He’s a fixture of the school, a quiet presence often overlooked or, worse, openly ridiculed. You’ve noticed him more than most people—how he keeps his head down, how he seems to carry the weight of the world in his backpack, how his hands twitch like he’s always ready to solve some impossible equation.

But today, you notice something else: the group of basketball players tailing him.

“Oi, Norris!” one of them calls, his voice carrying easily over the chatter of the hallway. “What’s in the backpack? A rocket ship or something?”

The others laugh, their jeering voices ringing out as Lando quickens his pace.

Your stomach twists. You hate this. You hate the way people think it’s okay to pick on him just because he’s quiet, just because he doesn’t fit into their narrow idea of what’s “cool.”

Before you know it, you’re moving.

“Hey!” you call, your voice sharp enough to cut through the laughter.

The group turns to you, their smug expressions faltering.

“What’s your problem?” you ask, stepping between them and Lando.

“Relax, Y/N,” one of them says, holding up his hands as if to feign innocence. “We’re just messing around.”

“Yeah, well, maybe don’t,” you snap.

Behind you, Lando looks stunned. He’s frozen in place, his books still clutched to his chest, his wide eyes darting between you and the boys.

“Come on, guys,” you say, your tone leaving no room for argument. “Leave him alone.”

The group mutters something under their breath, but they disperse quickly, clearly unwilling to argue with you.

When you turn back to Lando, he’s staring at you like you’ve just performed some kind of miracle.

“Are you okay?” you ask, softening your tone.

“Uh… yeah,” he stammers, his face bright red. “Thanks.”

You smile at him. “Here, let me help you with those.”

Before he can protest, you take half the books from his arms. They’re heavier than you expected, and you can’t help but laugh. “What are you carrying in here? A small library?”

“Kind of,” he mutters, looking at the floor.

You lead him down the hallway, ignoring the whispers that follow you. You know what people are saying—they’re wondering why you, the head cheerleader, the “golden girl” of the school, are talking to him. But you don’t care.

Lando doesn’t deserve the way people treat him. And if being kind to him makes people talk, so be it.

When lunchtime rolls around, you spot Lando sitting alone at a table in the far corner of the cafeteria. He’s hunched over a notebook, scribbling equations with the kind of intensity most people reserve for exams.

You grab your tray and make a beeline for him.

“Hey, Lando!” you say, sliding into the seat across from him.

He looks up, startled. “Oh. Hi.”

“Mind if I sit here?”

He blinks, clearly confused. “Uh… sure?”

You smile, setting your tray down. “Thanks. The cafeteria’s way too loud today.”

It’s not, really. But you don’t tell him that.

As you start eating, you notice how tense he looks, like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“You don’t eat lunch?” you ask, nodding toward his empty side of the table.

“I usually eat later,” he says quietly.

You frown. “Why? The food’s not that bad.”

He shrugs, not meeting your eyes. “It’s quieter then.”

Your heart aches a little at that. You can’t imagine what it’s like to feel so out of place that you’d rather avoid the busiest part of the day.

“Well, it’s not quiet now,” you say, grinning. “But at least you’ve got company.”

Lando glances at you, his expression a mix of confusion and something else—gratitude, maybe?

“Yeah,” he says softly. “Thanks.”

Of course, it doesn’t take long for the cool kids to notice.

“Look at that,” one of them whispers, loud enough for you to hear. “Y/N and Lando. That’s… unexpected.”

You roll your eyes but don’t say anything. Lando, however, seems to shrink into himself, his shoulders hunching as he stares down at his notebook.

“Hey,” you say gently, reaching across the table to touch his arm. “Don’t let them get to you.”

He looks up, his eyes wide. “I’m used to it.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have to be,” you say firmly.

Lando doesn’t respond, but the look in his eyes lingers with you for the rest of the day.

It becomes a routine. Every afternoon after school, you meet Lando in the library for tutoring sessions.

At first, it’s all business. He’s focused on explaining physics concepts to you, his voice steady and calm as he works through equations and diagrams. But as the days go by, he starts to relax. He cracks a few jokes, smiles a little more.

And you notice things about him you hadn’t before.

You notice the way his eyes light up when he talks about something he’s passionate about. You notice the way he fidgets with his pen when he’s deep in thought.

You notice the way his smile—small and hesitant—can brighten your entire day.

“You’re really good at this,” you tell him one day, after he’s finished explaining a particularly tricky concept.

“Good at what?”

“Explaining stuff. You make it seem easy.”

Lando shrugs, his cheeks turning pink. “It’s just physics.”

“It’s more than that,” you say, smiling. “You’re really smart, Lando. And patient. Not everyone can do what you do.”

He looks at you like you’ve just said something unbelievable.

“Thanks,” he says softly.

Of course, people start to talk.

“Y/N and Lando?”

“Why is she spending so much time with him?”

“She’s probably just being nice. There’s no way she actually likes him.”

You hear the whispers in the hallways, in the locker room, in the cafeteria. But you don’t let them bother you.

Lando, however, isn’t as good at ignoring them.

One day, as you’re walking to the library together, he hesitates.

“Y/N, you don’t have to do this,” he says.

“Do what?”

“Be seen with me,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You stop in your tracks, turning to face him.

“Lando,” you say firmly, “I don’t care what people think. And neither should you.”

He looks at you, his expression conflicted.

“Why are you so nice to me?” he asks after a moment.

“Because you deserve it,” you say simply.

The turning point comes one day in the cafeteria.

You’re sitting with Lando at your usual table when one of the basketball players saunters over, a smirk on his face.

“Well, well,” he says, looking between you and Lando. “Isn’t this cozy?”

Lando stiffens, his grip on his fork tightening.

“What do you want, Jake?” you ask, your voice cold.

“Nothing,” Jake says, holding up his hands. “Just wondering what the head cheerleader sees in the nerd brigade over here.”

“More than I see in you,” you say without missing a beat.

The cafeteria erupts into laughter, and Jake’s smirk falters.

“Come on, Y/N,” he says, his tone defensive. “We’re just joking.”

“Maybe you should work on your material, then,” you say, turning back to your lunch.

Jake mutters something under his breath and walks away, and you can feel the tension in Lando’s shoulders slowly easing.

“Thanks,” he says quietly.

“Anytime,” you say, smiling at him.

Later that day, as you’re walking out of school together, Lando is unusually quiet.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you ask, nudging him gently.

He hesitates for a moment before speaking.

“Why do you do it?” he asks.

“Do what?”

“Stand up for me. Spend time with me. Be nice to me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” you ask, genuinely confused.

“Because I’m… me,” he says, gesturing to himself.

You stop walking, turning to face him.

“Lando,” you say softly, “you’re one of the smartest, kindest people I’ve ever met. I don’t care what anyone else thinks. I like spending time with you. You’re my friend.”

The word feels too small to describe what you feel, but it’s the truth.

Lando looks at you, his eyes searching yours for any hint of insincerity. He doesn’t find any.

“Thanks,” he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smile at him. “Anytime.”

Over time, the whispers fade. People move on to other gossip, other dramas. But your friendship with Lando remains.

And if, every now and then, you catch him looking at you with a softness in his eyes that makes your heart skip a beat, you don’t say anything.

Because deep down, you know he’s the kind of person who will always surprise you. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Thank you for reading!