#or a bigger tougher bully

[chaoticallyfluffy]

Just banged my head against a drawer when I bent over, which means it’s time for more improv Billy thoughts! Is it going to become a tradition for me to make these every time my head hurts instead of resting? Probably! Am I gonna Pavlov myself into associating headaches with improv? I hope not!

When he became champion, Billy was amazed by all the mythical creatures that he gets to interact with while doing his duties. Much to his disappointment, he learned that unicorns aren’t very friendly and take years of bribery in the form of sugar cubes to befriend. This didn’t stop him though and after only a year he managed to befriend one and the rest of its pack started to trust him too.

He absolutely adored his new unicorn friends! The novelty mostly wore off by then but the day he got to ride a unicorn for the first time was a truly magical day.

The only problem is, once you befriend a unicorn pack there’s no getting out of it. He’s one of them now, and unicorns are fiercely protective of their own.

Now when ever he’s in the extreme danger, a pack of unicorns appears in a poof of sparkles and beats the hell out of whoever hurt him. Billy feels terrible about it because they do NOT hold back, and a few too many bully’s have ended up in the hospital because of this.

[churino]

Design for earthmode barricade

Barry is... most eloquently put, a meanie head, growing up idolizing authority and law, resulting in quite the spineless bot. You see, he's a stickler for rules, but only when the rules don't affect HIM

Barricade was the first autobot on the ship to wake up on earth, intercepted by the decepticons. He betrays the team and starts feeding info to the decepticons stuck on earth with them. Eventually, the truth comes out, and he is forced to join the cons full time.

Early on, he had hopes of rising among decepticon ranks but found himself content in his position as what is essentially a paid bully, made big and powerful, but only big enough so his superiors can still squat him like a fly if he ever disobeyed them, not that he ever would as he's incredibly content with his job of... fighting chidren... alongside his new girlfriend swift

Swift arrived with other decepticon reinforcements and a change of leadership that also allowed barricade to get some upgrades, made bigger and tougher. He was a true decepticon now

To be a con, you need to be bigger than everybody else around you, either trough brain or bulk, thats the only way a con goes about life, decepticonism is founded on endless growth giving rise to captalists like swindle and Trickdiamond and of course, policemen like barricade.

[octuscle]

Old

When you're skinny and weak, it's no fun being young. Richard wasn't even particularly clever or funny or charismatic. Richhard was just a lop! No longer being 18. No longer being mistaken for 16. No longer being bullied… Richard wanted nothing more! Regularly attending a gym seemed the logical consequence. Train hard. That must lead to muscles. And tougher facial features. And more respect from others…. But the first few visits to the gym were more than demoralizing. The other guys here were so much bigger than him. He looked ridiculous in his cheap clothes from school sports. Richard moved his work outs to the early mornings or late evenings when he was almost alone. At some point he was asked if he would like to earn a few extra dollars. Soon, when he trained in the evening, Richard would lock up the gym after his workout, clean up, mop the floor and get everything ready for the next morning. This had many advantages. He had money for better clothes and even got an employee discount at the gym store. And he could train completely alone and undisturbed after the official end of business.

That had an effect. Slowly. Far too slowly. After six months, perhaps no one was laughing at Richrad anymore. But no one showed him any respect from the members or colleagues who occasionally crossed his path despite his training and working hours.

Richard had already heard about this Chronivac. It was used to support particularly solvent customers with their transformations. The device had to be in the managing director's office. But it was always locked there. There was no chance of getting to the device. Until this one evening. The evening when Richard walked through the corridors with the mop. And the door to the office was open. Wide open. And this device was lying on the desk. Obviously on. The display bathed the office in a very faint blue light.

"Scanning the client" was written on the display… It looked like a normal smartphone app. Richard pressed "okay" and a monitor appeared. Richard held the device in front of his face. There was no button like on a camera. But after a few moments there was an acoustic signal and the message "Number of virtual training units" appeared on the display. Damn, what was that supposed to mean? Was the device simulating training sessions? Richard trained three times a week. 12 times a month. 144 times a year. It would be cool to be four years older. 22 years old. A college jock who had been training hard for four years. Richard did a quick mental calculation. That was about… He heard footsteps. Shit! 500 had to be about right. He typed in 600 and pressed enter. And carefully put the device back on the desk. Hopefully that had worked. He took the mop and ran to the showers. And while he was mopping the floor, Nick, the manager, came in. He greeted Richard and asked if everything was OK. It was already late and Richard should leave. All right, Richard replied. The message "Transformation started. Perform 500 monthly training cycles. Transformation within the next eight hours."

As he has done for almost 42 years, Rick was one of the first to enter the gym. He had been a member longer than any other guy pumping here. Longer than anyone who worked here. Rick was simply part of the inventory. He was the janitor, the manager, the go-to guy here. And a role model for every man who trained here. Yes, Rick had never become one of the musclemen who also trained here. But he had also always been clean. Never cheated. And a body that still worked like a well-oiled machine despite his almost 60 years of life was his thanks. Yes, his beard and hair were gray. But he still had the body of a 30-year-old athlete. And with that, he had honestly earned the respect of everyone here.

Inspiration by @workinprogress1986

[hamilando]

ੈ✩‧₊ One Step ੈ✩‧₊

Pairing : Seunghan x Gn! Reader

Genre : Idol au, Angst

Song : Happier than ever ( rock version) by Billie Eilish

TW: Depression, cyber bullying, idol life , suide

A/N : This is a very sensitive fic, I wrote this because all that's happening with Seunghan is absolutely not fair, not only him but other idols also suffer. We need to realise they are also human and it's their first time living too.

･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･

The car horns were blaring, the wind forcing the boy to keep his eyes open. Standing on top of the roof edge, his eyes blurred, with tears or with regret, he could not tell. He may have made mistakes in the past, but he wondered how much he could take before he could give up.

His ideal dream of debuting in an idol group, discovering the wonders of the world while touring and singing his lungs out had been reduced to an hope which was being extinguished by some jealous friends of his on the Internet. Seunghan debuted as a member of RIIZE, a group under the biggest entertainment in South Korea, fame finding them before they could even step out of the basement.

It scared him, how he was not afraid to die, rather afraid of being wrong in front of some users on the internet.

The life he sacrificed everything for, snatched away because he had a few moments of joy, but now he was fighting for the courage to live than kill himself. He felt broken, like that last piece in a puzzle that was not fitting. He was only human, 'it was your fault' ringing inside his head. He brought disgrace to his group, he brought disgrace to his family, all would be gone if he took a step. One step to his freedom, one step to his new life, one step to happiness.

"Does it ever stop hurting?"

Seunghan turned around and saw a person's shadow, but the tears flowing made it difficult to make out who it was.

"Of course it does, once the blood seeps out." His voice quavered.

"Go ahead and leave then, everyone does."

"They hated me in life, maybe they could love in death."

"It's worth giving a try to relive."

"Reliving where I don't have to starve myself to sing, carve my name in trophies to redeem myself."

"You failed in living, what makes you think you will succeed in dying."

"I kept running behind success, let this fall make it run after me."

Seunghan could feel a smile creep on his face, the feel of ending it all making the adrenaline rush in his body, the same adrenaline feeling he got before his first ever debut stage. Oh, but look at irony, a smile starting the movie, an even bigger smile to finish the movie. A movie well criticised by those who could never feel the making of it.

"If all you had to do was run, you should have joined a marathon team."

"At least there I would run towards my goal and not away from it."

The person took a few steps forward, hands in pocket due to the cold wind blowing, Seunghan just staring at the person in front of him.

"Is this you speaking or the adrenaline in you speaking because you are standing on the edge?"

Seunghan scoffed at the question, he was considering taking his life right here and this person was taking it as a joke,

"Of course it's me, I won't be standing here because of a dare."

"Well, then I dare you, come down the edge and say you want to jump off, look me in the eyes and say you want to jump off."

"I can say all that from right here."

"I know you can, but just come down once."

"Once you reach the top, it's difficult to come down"

"Then don't look down, look at me, I am here for you."

"I am glad, but it's a little late to be here for me."

Talking made it all the tougher for Seunghan to clear his mind. With a last glance at the person in front of him, he turned facing the city lights and said with confidence,

"Why would I come down when right now I feel the happiest man on top of the world?"

With that he took the step, deaf to the screams of the person behind him, deaf to the car horns blaring, deaf to the screams of his fans on debut, deaf to affections of his parents, deaf to the laughter of his members,

deaf to the little voice in his brain saying "one more chance was all that was needed."

[captainpikeachu]

We don’t talk enough about how Steve and John actually share one brain cell and that brain cell is all about throwing hands with people bigger/tougher than they are

You got Steve back in the 40s being a scrawny little guy with no weapons and still ready to have a go at it all day because he wasn’t gonna back down from a bigger bully

Then you got John in the present day with no gun and no shield and no powers and no backup, literally all alone on top of a moving truck with super powered enemies but still not backing down

Both of them just totally willing to get their asses kicked

They’re literally just full of this energy ⬇️

[alexihollis]

imagine: Ajax and Rembrandt who grow up together. Rembrandt is a bit younger and always the smallest, the runt, youngest kid in the family. Older siblings bully her and no one really understands her except for her rough-and-tumble best friend.

Young!Ajax meets Young!Rembrandt and immediately decides that she needs to protect Rembrandt. But Young!Ajax isnt Ajax yet. Shes small and scrappy and she can hold her own in some fights, but she cant square up to Rembrandt's brothers or mean gran or pretty much any of the people that actually make Rembrandt sad or hurt her. The absolute torment of Ajax being a protector at heart and not able to actually do anything about it until the day she convinces Rembrandt to run away when they're teenagers.

And Rembrandt just remembers Ajax always being there for her, always having her back, but Ajax can only remember all the things she couldnt do for Rembrandt. Might make her a bit more volatile when she gets bigger, tougher, less likely to be able to keep a lid on her emotions when people threaten those she cares about, but especially Rembrandt. Because Ajax truly will never forgive her younger self for the crime of being small, even though she would never even think to hold that against Rembrandt.

And yeah that was pretty much what created What Was I Made For? but everyone else needed to suffer the true extent of the angst my brain created.

[thewolvesof1998]

Created by @mostlyinthemorning

Day Eleven pt. 10 (Because I couldn't choose)

mi media naranja by oklahoma @malewifediaz

the side effects of eating too many clementines by oklahoma

It’s a testament to the deep fondness Eddie has for Buck that he doesn’t even bat an eye when Buck shows up at his house at one in the afternoon with a box full of oranges in his hands. He’s grinning like a fool, ugly and goofy and crooked, haloed by the sun behind his big head, and something deep in Eddie’s tummy shifts. He’s used to it. That always happens when Buck’s smiling like he is right now, all child-like and full of joy and wildness, so unrelentingly kind and free that no amount of ruin or rot can take it away from him. He’s bigger and stronger and tougher and brighter than even the Library of Alexandria, and that was one of the greatest wonders of the world. Buck’s a wonder of the world, then. The most wonderful, maybe. - Eddie realizes he’s in love with Buck while they’re in the kitchen, of all places.

the art of peeling mandarins for the one you love by oklahoma 

“I’m asking you to be my husband.” Eddie sighs, straddling Buck’s thighs and sitting down on Buck’s big, cushiony lap. It’s his second favorite seat, after the recliner Athena bullied him into buying when his ribs broke in the overpass collapse. “Buck—” “And it makes sense, you know?” Buck cuts in, gripping Eddie’s thighs and pulling him in. Eddie can feel all of him, through the thin layers separating them. “I mean, I sat here and I watched you peel an orange for me ‘cause I can’t do it the way you do and in the time it took you to separate the sections I fell in love with you all over again.” - Buck asks Eddie to marry him in the kitchen, of all places.

There's not much to say other than Amanda's writing makes me actually feral (if you want proof look at the comments I leave on her fics- actually insane for the writing) and I want to devour her brain so I can write like her. I recommend every single one of her fics but these two are just to die for.

Rules: Every day for 12 days in December, choose a fandom work from any fandom from 2023 that you loved. It can be anything you like - a gifset, a drabble, fanart, a fic, or just a post that made you laugh.

Reblog the post and add a comment or tags about why you love it.

Tag your post with #12 days of fandom

tagging: @hippolotamus @exhuastedpigeon @steadfastsaturnsrings @monsterrae1 @pirrusstuff @spotsandsocks @buddierights @jamespearce9-1-1 and anyone else who wants to participate (it's never too late!)

[loftylockjaw]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Downtown PARTIES: Wyatt (@loftylockjaw) & Maggie (@woveninstardust) SUMMARY: Wyatt spots Maggie in town, then hurries to her defense when he realizes she's being bullied. She's upset, but grateful. CONTENT WARNINGS: none!

—

While some people looked fondly upon high school days, Maggie grimaced. Elementary school was easy- friends were easy to make at that age, and when you could play make-believe like it was your profession and draw better than most, it was easy to win other kids over. You could close your eyes on the swings and jump, and if you said you were flying, the other kids might just believe. But people grow up, and when they do, they often discard their imagination because they become self conscious of it. They shed it. Bury it. And will scoff at the things they once found joy and wonder in. 

Maggie had clung to that sense of wonder like it was a life raft. It was not a bad thing to believe in something wondrous. But it put a big neon target on her back while she roamed the halls of good old WR High. Which was, decidedly, not good. It was easier now to avoid those who had been the cruelest. There were no classes to hold her captive, and lunch tables were a thing of the growing-distant past. But every so often, she heard a too-familiar voice, and she would get pulled back into that scared young girl lost in her sketchbook. 

She had been sitting outside downtown, enjoying the late afternoon sunshine and fixing some rough sketches- adding detail where there had been nothing, smoothing out lines and curves; maybe, just maybe, she might add a little color work, some shading… - when she heard someone snickering. Multiple someones. Just one quick look was enough to make her want to shrink back, close her sketchbook, and go. A cluster of old classmates. Whispering. Pointing. Laughing. 

The girl looked back down, trying to disappear back into her drawing like she’d never even noticed. But Maggie heard footsteps, saw shadows in her periphery, and knew this would not be fun for her.

Actually having managed to snag several uninterrupted hours of sleep, Wyatt was feeling less batshit than usual, which was good. It was a nice break, even if those tendrils of fear still lapped at his heels, threatening to catch up again once the sky grew dark. Until then, the lamia was celebrating with some well-earned sunshine and human interaction, even if it was just with strangers. 

A familiar head of hair caught his attention as he walked down the street and he did a double take, recognizing the girl from the creek immediately. He grinned before remembering that he was not very ‘Mister Gator’-y right now, and his enthusiasm faded. It’d be weird for him to just approach her out of nowhere, especially when he wasn’t about to let her know that he was her alligator friend. Oh well. About to turn and leave, he paused when he saw a group of kids her age lingering nearby, looking… problematic. His instinct was correct as he watched them walk up to Maggie and say some things he couldn’t hear, then rip the sketchbook from her hands and start ripping out pages and throwing them in the air. 

Oh hell no. 

Wyatt surged forward, running across the street and grabbing the boy that had her sketchbook in his hands by the back of his neck. He shouted some choice expletives as Wyatt snatched the sketchbook from his hands, handing it back to Maggie without looking at her. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” he snarled, shoving him roughly into his other friends, who looked equal parts pissed and freaked out. 

“My problem?! What the fuck is yours!?” the kid shouted back, and Wyatt rolled his eyes.

“Ain’t you kids a little old to be bullies? How old are you?” One of the girls in the group puffed up like an annoyed chicken, thrusting her fists against her sides in an attempt to look… bigger? Tougher? 

“We’re adults, you clown,” she snapped, and Wyatt grinned. 

“Oh, that so? Coulda fooled me. Get the fuck outta here n’ leave this girl alone, all of ya.” 

“Yeah? What’re you gonna do about it?” Wyatt shook his head, lifting a brow at their presumed ringleader. 

“Don’t think you wanna find out, beanstalk. You’re adults, yeah? Means I can punch you just like I can punch any other bitch harassin’ someone, n’ the bluesuits ain’t gonna have much to say about it.” That probably wasn’t true, but they didn’t seem to pick up on his bluff. The chicken girl dropped her hands back to her sides, her eyes wide. 

“... come on, Matthias. Let’s just go.” 

Allison Beckett and Matthias Ford (or, as they had been in their high school days, Ally and Matty) had been the ring leaders of Maggie’s high school tormenting. They had been an average level on the popularity scale- just enough that they could float above the quiet kids. And make their lives miserable, if they so chose to. Which, with Maggie, they did. Somehow despite their being removed from the hallowed halls of Wicked’s Rest High School for so many years now, Ally and Matty and their little flock of cronies had not grown up. Not even a little. Sure, they might have jobs that paid better than hers, they might be living as adults- maybe their IDs finally matched their actual age. But in terms of maturity, they were still the bullies they had always been.

“Magnooooooliaaaaaa….” Allison’s voice rang out, syrupy sweet as she sauntered over in her perfectly matching athleisure. “What’s in your little book Magnolia? Still drawing your imaginary friends?” The group of them leered over the girl, casting shadows over the quickly shut notebook. Maggie wondered if she could treat the girl like a bear and simply not make eye contact. Maybe pretending like she didn’t exist would send her, Matty, and their gaggle of little minions away. So she stared at her feet, not uttering a word. 

Unfortunately, it did not. 

Matty whispered something- she couldn’t tell what- and suddenly the notebook was wrenched from the young woman’s hands before she could think to hide it. The tall boy held the notebook high above her head, turning through pages and pages of animals and creatures, real and fake. He snorted and showed it to one of the minions- Vanessa- before crowing. “We’ve got a walking crocodile! She doesn’t know that crocodiles don’t walk on two legs-” 

The pages were crumpling. Some were tearing as he flung the book around from side to side, showing his friends and mocking her. All the while, Maggie’s eyes burned. Her pulse roared in her ears, muffling their jeers. The words she wished she were brave enough to say sat like a stone in her throat. 

Suddenly, the shade Matty cast over her was gone, replaced by sunlight once more. Her notebook- a bit worse for wear- was held out just in front of her. Immediately, she took the book into her hands and took a few steps away. Maggie flipped through the pages to survey the damage. She could not conceal the little whimper that escaped her lips when she got to the page of the alligator she’d been working on. Ripped. Crumpled up and torn right down the middle. 

When she looked back up, Ally was yanking Matty away, and the rest of their group was quick to follow. Standing alone in the place they had been was a stranger. Maggie quickly wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, forcing a smile back onto her face. It didn’t matter that she wanted to go home and crawl under the covers and cry. She could pretend for a few more seconds that everything was fine and at least thank the stranger for their intervention. “Uh... thanks… for that. You didn’t have to…”

Watching them go for a moment (making sure they didn’t gain courage to do something stupid the more distance the group put between themselves and Wyatt), he eventually turned back around to see Maggie smiling at him, teary-eyed. “Ah! I'm so sorry—” He quickly ducked down to gather the pages that had fallen to the ground, handling them carefully as he picked them up, straightening them in his hands as he moved back toward her. His gaze dropped to the sketchbook she was clutching, and he recognized more art of himself on the page, art she must have drawn after leaving the creek that day.

“Hey, that's really good,” he remarked, passing her the loose pages. “I mean, all of it is—seriously! D'you do art professionally? You should.” He was wearing a warm smile as he said it, shrugging with one shoulder. “Easier said than done, I know.” He pointed at the drawing of himself, a knowing smirk passing over that wide grin. “You see that guy ‘round here?”

Loose pages with footprints, scuffs, tears… how much work had they wrecked? Just in a few minutes of their stupid taunting? The girl wanted to scream. She hated that she could never force herself to be brave enough to tell a bunch of peaked-in-high-school bullies that she didn’t care what they thought. She hated that instead of grabbing her sketchbook and whacking one of them upside the head with it, Maggie’s eyes burned with tears and her body froze in place. Most of all, Maggie hated that even now, looking up at some stranger who had helped, she couldn’t convince herself to believe his kind words and compliments. 

Dark brown eyes dropped their gaze, unable to keep the forced smile up in the man’s direction. Maybe if she pretended to look over her art, Maggie thought, he wouldn’t notice. “It’s just doodles and sketches…” Dammit, even her voice sounded defeated. When he pointed at the drawing of Mister Gator- the one that was half-watercolored, the one that was now ruined- she had to swallow hard to keep from losing her shit and simply bawling on the sidewalk. Maggie wished she were with Mister Gator now. She could cry in front of him, and he wouldn’t judge her. She could be herself in front of that alligator, and those bright intelligent eyes would smile at her and then everything wouldn’t seem so shitty. 

She tucked the sketch up against her chest, hugging it tight. As if that might fix it. “I did- you don’t… you don’t have to be nice just because they were mean. I appreciate you stepping in… they would’ve wrecked more of my stuff- but…” The girl’s voice trailed off, words abandoning her. 

“Hey, c’mon now. All my friends will tell you, I ain’t a nice guy unless I mean it,” Wyatt drawled with a chuckle. “I’m bein’ honest! You wouldn’t call a stranger a liar, wouldja?” This poor thing was in desperate need of cheering up, and as endeared as he was to her, he knew one thing at least that ought to do the trick, if their previous interactions were anything to go by (unbeknownst to her). 

Sitting down on the bench where Maggie had been before those idiots had come along, Wyatt patted the empty space beside him. “You got a minute to tell me more about that fella you been paintin’? I wanna hear about it.” He gestured vaguely at the town around them, giving a shake of his head. “I mean, it’d hardly be the weirdest thing to be spotted ‘round here, right? Give me the benefit of the doubt, kid. I’m curious.” Yes, he was asking about himself, and yes, someone would probably call that vain, but he knew this girl had bonded with the creature she’d been drawing. And the way her face had lit up by that creek in the woods when he sat down beside her, he knew she had to want to tell someone, if she hadn’t already. His only goal was to help her feel better, he’d insist. 

But maybe also he did want to hear someone say nice things about the beast he felt was the real him. Maybe. There’d be no admitting it.

He was right. Maggie would not call a stranger a liar. It wouldn’t be fair- especially when he had already gone through the trouble of being menacing enough to get rid of her tormentors. Big brown eyes finally looked up a little, just enough to see the man’s face. He said he wasn’t a nice guy unless he meant it. But she knew that wasn’t true just from one look. She didn’t know why, but something in his eyes was comforting. 

Her fingers brushed across the torn page of her notebook, across the mostly finished illustration of Mister Gator. It was starting to feel like the alligator she’d found down by the creek had become one of her best friends in town… “I… I need to come up with a better name for him,” The girl sniffled as she flipped through to find a less damaged drawing of the creature. “But he’s real. I call him Mister Gator, because I think he’s a gentleman.” Maggie landed on a page with a detailed sketch of the alligator-cryptid’s face. She’d watched Mister Gator for as long as she could in order to drink up every little line and curve that made up the creature’s countenance. “He’s gorgeous… and can do things I’ve never seen an alligator do. And he’s smart. So smart. It’s like he knows what I’m talking about when I go to visit him…”

The artist’s fingers trailed along the picture, seeming lost in contemplation for a moment before very carefully ripping the page out of her sketchpad and handing it to the man. “Here... For helping me out.”

“I dunno, I think Mister Gator is pretty spot on,” Wyatt chuckled. It was nice that Maggie thought he was a gentleman of all things, but then she’d not really seen what that body was capable of, had she? He’d only ever been gentle with her, happy to receive the praise and attention offered without judgment or any other understanding of who he was and what he was like outside of that moment clouding it. It was a pure thing, and Wyatt didn’t want to do a damn thing that might damage that purity. So he and his alter ego, Mister Gator, would remain separate. For both their sakes. 

“Maybe he does, cher, maybe he does.” Of course he did, but he couldn’t talk back. That would ruin the purity. Wyatt’s gaze dropped to the drawing he was offered, and he felt his heart swell a little bit as he looked at it. It was easy to see the care in each stroke, and coupled with the girl’s words, it made him feel appreciated in a way he wasn’t sure he’d ever been appreciated. “Thank you,” he answered softly, unable to pull his gaze away from the drawing just yet. “This is incredible. It’s for sure goin’ up on my wall.” Finally, the shifter dragged his attention up from the page to meet her gaze again, his heart breaking for her. “You tell this friend of yours I said hi, yeah? And, hey… if those couyons give you any more trouble, maybe you enlist this guy’s help, ah?” He gave the sketch a small shake. “Bet they’d be a lot more scared of somethin’ like him than a fool like me!” 

Mister Gator would have liked this stranger, the girl decided. If he could appreciate a simple drawing of such a wonderful creature, then surely the man would think the living, breathing, better-than-an-alligator was the most incredible thing in the world… And yet, Maggie felt strangely protective of her reptilian friend. Humans had a terrible habit of fearing and destroying things that did not (in their minds) belong. And a bipedal alligator in coastal Maine was unusual indeed. A drawing would be more than enough. And maybe, hopefully, this stranger was just being nice. And he wouldn’t go hunting for her alligator friend. One look at his face told her all she needed to know. The story of Mister Gator was safe with this man.

“I’ll tell him,” Maggie didn’t offer the words ‘I promise’, but the sentiment was there, hidden in three little sincere words. “I’ll tell him you’re a friend… just in case you run into him, too.” That way, perhaps her gator would be safe and so would the man who shooed away the couyons as he’d called them. “Thanks, Mister…” She didn’t know his name, she realized. Yet, given the situation, it felt strangely appropriate. 

There was a pause while Wyatt considered offering his name — too many people in this town would make a pretty fast connection between Wyatt and a giant alligator, but he also didn’t feel right just letting her sentence hang in the air. Less would know him by his surname, he figured. 

“Barlow,” the lamia responded with a soft smile. He held out a hand to her to shake, then got to his feet. “I’ll leave you to it, miss. Thanks again for the drawin’. You take care, now. And hey, you know the best way to get back at a bully? Remind ‘em of what they’re real insecure about.” He ought to fucking know, after all. “You’re young, bet you can sleuth social media for that kinda thing pretty easy.” The man dipped his head and gave Maggie a lazy two-fingered salute before turning away and moseying down the sidewalk. He made a mental note to remember the names he’d heard and see if he could figure out who exactly those idiots were, and where they lived. If a spicy comeback from Maggie didn’t deter them, he’d take care of them himself. No one was gonna mess with his biggest fan on his watch.

[cursedzucchini]

Dp x DC prompt #whatever

Guys this has been rotting in my brain for the past month and i think it has lots of potential.

So basically Danny & Damian childhood friends.

Somehow, someway (maybe after five years old Damian kills one too many instructors, which are irreplaceable, maybe his arrogance causes one too many failures) Talia convinces Ra's to put weekly 'play dates' with the other league's children. These play dates are supposed to show Damian his superiority over them, but also make him care for his future subjects.

What the two didn't account for, was, well... Children.

Damian wasn't the mildest child, not was he trying to be likeable. He didn't see the point. And when you add their parents repeating over and over again how important the new child is.. no wonder all of them were scared to even look at him.

The chosen child himself was quite happy with this development. He didn't want to be there in first place, especially because he was specifically forbidden from cutting down any annoyances. So it was a good thing none of them dared to come to 10 meters radius to him. He didn't mind the children immidietly bursting into tears, when they lock eyes. He didn't feel angry, because these weren't even children of any important people, with no obligations to be nice to him, and they didn't even dare to breath in his vicinity (seriously, a boy passed out because he didn't wish to breath when Damian was sitting few spaces next to him. It was ridiculous).

He didnt feel like an outsider, he felt like their leader. He didn't feel loneliness, he felt proud. He didn't, he did.

So.. when a child, always sitting in a corner staring at the sky, was cornered by several of the other children, he didn't do anything. He was someone they should follow, he did not owe them to solve their petty rivalries. (Even if they insulted the child for their expressionless face, for being unable to recognize their imaginery rules of some bigger game, for being different. Even when Damian started realizing with more and more terror, this would be him, if he wasn't All Ghul)

...

...maybe he should establish himself as a good leader, by helping them. This once at least.

Damian walked closer, only wanting to discuss whatever bullying problem was happening, but the moment the children saw him, they ran. Well, most of them at least.

Danyal was the child of some lower member of the league (maybe even someone who was under their protection, doesn't matter). He was a very quiet, some would even say antisocial. He would spend all his time staring at the stars and not mingling with his peers. He didn't often wore any sort of expression, but once Damian spend more time with him (unwillingly might he add, even if it was him who looked for the other boy, and maybe it wasn't unwillingly, but that's not something he wants to think about. Ever), he realized, Danyal was full of them. Every time he talked about the stars, mentioned the new book his parents gifted him, and as the time went, when Damian himself was mentioned, the demon's heir couldn't help but think the older boy would burst from them.

Damian still wasn't quite sure why he was hated by their his peers. He knew some people would find Danyal strange, but he didn't quite understood (wasn't he the same? Why was he brilliant perfect amazing but Danyal strange idiot weird?).

But what he did know for sure, was that Danyal was his. He was his subject, someone he took under his wing to protect, and in exchange, Danyal would look after him too. It might be helping him out with any assassination attempts, or telling him the stories of space, when the younger boy couldn't force his tongue to form words.

Or at least he had been.

The family Danyal was from was poor. So when one of the tougher times came, it wasn't strange one of their children had to go. And what choice it was, picking between healthy beautiful children and a 'ghost living in a body'.

Only Damian hated it. He didn't understand. While yes, Danyal was his subject, he had many of them. If he wanted to be a good leader, he can't just focus on one them. That would be unfair. He saw this choice being made so many times and he was never bothered by it, so why now—

In the end he never discovered the answer. He locked the question deep inside his chest, inside his heart, where nothing could ever reach. He was Al Ghul, he was too great to be caught of guard and be strucked in it.

So when years and years later, when he was already living with his father for some time, he saw a black haired, blue eyed teen with tan skin, and the same grin his friend subject had, of course it was natural he knocked him out and brought him into the manor.

Not because he missed Danyal or anything of course. He had to... Check if this was some sort of plot of his Mother. Naturally.

[yonicgirldick]

ohhhh to be the runt of a litter of puppygirls

all my sisters are so much bigger and stronger than me so they get to bully me around and always win when we wrestle. And once they have me pinned down, their sharp strong jaws dig in and leave bruises all over, because "If you didn't deserve to be bruised by bites, your skin would be tougher." They even started competing with each other to see who could leave the most marks on me, because I'm so easy to pin down

whenever they get worked up, they always have me around to let some steam off with, and it's extra fun for them because I'm so small their big knotted cocks hurt a tonnn, but I can't complain because if I do they just muzzle me and have all my sisters come teach me a lesson

[bewitchingbaker]

📁

Many often think that Chris is pretty brave. Often jumping head first to help out any paranormal or human person, no matter the danger. Some chalk it up to him being a member of a coven of witches who have stole from even the dangerous of demons. Others say it's because he might have inherited his mother's bravery.

While somewhat true. The reason he's so brave (almost to somewhat stupid levels) is waaaaay more simple.

Jess.

SHe's the bravest person he knows. Who else openly stands up to people much bigger and tougher? Jess. Who fought his bullies when he was a kid? Jess.

While he's running from demons, shifting through portals, and facing down eldritch beings, he always thinks...'What would Jess do?'.

Jess isn't the most aware of this as she's not as brave as him in paranormal situations.

[ @burnlikeme ]

[octuscle]

Hey support? I was wondering if you could help me out. I ran into my high school bully over the weekend and he’s still a big cocky jerk. Is there any way you could help me be even bigger and tougher than him to put him in his place for once?

Dude, your high school bully is now a mechanic? That's almost a cliché fate for a Himbo. But I have to say, he has good taste in cars. Karmann Ghia. Something for connoisseurs. Only gets better with age..: Powerful curves. Extremely sporty looks. Hardcore, well-defined muscles… Where were we? I've lost my train of thought…

Dude, yeah, this fellow looks pretty damn good. Maybe you're not a pretty boy like him. But that's also a matter of taste. You're more the oriental type. Dark skin, dark hair, dark eyes… I like it. And let's be honest: Your stable full beard distinguishes you much more as an alpha than his clean-shaven chin!

Besides, a man has to smell like a man. Your bully smells like Coolwater. How gay is that? You take a deep breath from your hairy damp armpit. Yes, that is the smell of a man. You can't wait to press his pretty face into that bush. Maybe then the smell will make him a man too. And maybe he'll grow some more. Fuck, bruh! You're almost a head taller than the lad. And you let him bully you in high school?

Since your bully is obviously specialized in VW, I'll turn your Tesla into a VW Amarok. It fits you to some extent. You go to the garage and ask if he can take a look at the engine. From 80 miles per hour, it makes strange noises. The bully nods. And opens your hood. You yell at him if he can't say "Yes, sir" first? And whether he can put on a T-shirt when he looks at your car. You don't want sweat stains on the finish. Your bullie's tight jeans leave no doubt, his bulge is growing. He bends over the grille with his T-shirt on and asks you to start the engine. You hear him hitting your baby with the button of his jeans. You yell at him whether he little piece of shit has no respect for other people's property. Your bullie's bulge looks painful. He stammers something about having respect, of course. "Louder" you bark at him. "Yes, I do have respect" he replies. " How do you say that?" He looks at you, uncomprehending.

You grab his head, snot in his face and say only "'Sir!' it's 'Sir'!" And you push his head towards your own bulge. Not long now, and your former bully will have your cum dripping from the corners of his mouth onto his T-shirt. And he will have cum his own load into his jeans. Bully used to be, slut is today.

Pics found @maxx-magnum and @stargazerguy

[quixoticrobotic]

i have like actual thoughts about how the vengeance saga being a big metaphor for The Mental Crap and leaving mutually destructive relationships and overcoming the hopelessness and stagnation that comes with depression

and how sometimes people who are bigger and tougher than you are gonna say you'll only be good enough if you do things their way and you can try for YEARS to do things their way before realizing they're a bully who you dont have to listen to

and how this arc has very bleak imagery contrasted with triumphant themes

but also no thoughts head empty 600 STRIKE!!!!!!!!!!

[vro0m]

Thoughts about the Lewis x Jay Shetty podcast and how they relate to frequent themes, for my future reference :

Loneliness : (Abu Dhabi 2011)

I wonder what his socialization was like given he was bullied at school and then away on the weekends. Did he have friends? Did he get to spend time with other kids in normal situations? He said “missed a lot of that social interaction also.”

Couldn't talk to his parents, mom because she couldn't understand the racial abuse, dad because he would see it as weakness

It's interesting that he thinks basically the drivers should be friends because they have a lot in common but they can't because of how the sport is and it's also sad. I wonder how he feels about it, he didn't say. 

The loneliness of being the first and only

Injustice : (Belgium 2014)

The school trauma seems much more extensive than I thought although he mentions it often

He felt like the school system was against him -> feeds into things we talked about re: being repeatedly exposed to injustice and never feeling like anyone has his back (+ can't talk to his parents or any adults about it = loneliness) -> trust issues + need for control + gets paranoid at times

Anthony :

Tougher than I thought... I mean I knew he wasn't warm and outwardly loving but the whole crying is for the weak is explicitly harsh

It's curious Lewis mentions the effects of bad report cards in abusive households. Does he consider his household abusive, then?

He mentions needing to win to be accepted aka rejection if he doesn't win? That's harsh af.

Then he adds the not winning is losing bit I mean...

Mentions again the conflict with his dad which is A Big Thing in his life

Mental health :

I feel like he still has a lot of work to do because right now it’s “yeah everything was bad and I suppressed a lot of it but I’m fine lol.” Kinda feels like he's not done unpacking but hey what do I know (answer : nothing)

The rollercoaster you go through from the extremes that sports put you through is so fascinating to me and I wish I could do a research project on it like fr. I would love to do study cases of athletes to see how it impacts the way they function as human beings. I have a hunch it truly modifies the way they process things.

Always the search for bigger meaning and sense, his place in the world -> need to belong (-> loneliness + injustice)

It's interesting how much tension he lives in with his perfectionism and the whole life flashing before his eyes in his last lap for the 2020 WDC, and the pressure he puts on himself and other put on him, and all that. I wonder what it's gonna be like for him psychologically once he doesn't have to live like that anymore. I wonder if he'll be able to let go of it. 

The competitiveness never going away is another type of energy that I wonder about. Where will he put it? What will he do with it? How is it gonna affect him without the F1 outlet? It might be good or bad.

Very interesting asking him about being alone with his own thoughts in the car, too bad he didn't really answer. 

Not surprised he wasn't kind to himself, that goes with the perfectionist/control theme + Anthony + injustice

The need to belong but the difficulty to build trust because of past experiences is everywhere (injustice + Anthony + loneliness)

F1 :

The whole part about it being intense when he got in F1 because he wasn’t PR taught is spot-on with things I noted in the rewatch, aka the video where he said he didn’t know if he still enjoyed it.

The three steps of you part is spot-on re: the recurrent topic of his true self vs his PR persona and the difference between the two and the circumstances that gave birth to the latter

I love that he said you get more and more in your shell and you become harder to relate to. Great insight.

The way him and Toto relate to each other although being different -> the parallels in their trajectories (cf. the essay)

I like that he didn't wanna wear the stupid race as one shirt.

He is indeed preparing his retirement very actively.

Other :

The whole part about him being from a biracial family is so interesting. Good insight.

Kinda tired of the inspiration pxrn ngl but I like that despite that and him saying you can do whatever you want he ultimately understands that it's not that easy and that there's social structures in place preventing that from being true. It's interesting how he goes back and forth about it at the moment but not surprising (cf. end of positive thinking post)

Jay Shetty has really good questions but a lot of time Lewis doesn't really answer them, it's a shame.

I admire his sense of responsibility but also it's so hard on people like him. You get the few or lone person fighting their way into a world that's basically closed to them and then they have that added work of taking on that responsibility on top of everything else. Unfair.

Storytelling as a tool is something he uses a lot actually, hence maybe all the maxims or whatever they're called.

I didn't see the criticism of capitalism coming lol. Easy to make fun of but in his defense, it's not like there's a manuel on what to do with your money when you think you shouldn't have that much. We will see, it's an interesting development.

[tetsunabouquet]

Monster High OOAK OC: Shemmer Boogeyman

Because of Twyla's neon frights doll having infamous poor make-up quality including the ones I had, I altered her a little bit. I was really inspired by Cerise Hood and Ramona Bad Wolf for the Boogeyman twins.

I blurred the backgrounds so one cannot see the damage my cats have made to their cat tower. Character Profile: The older twin sister of Twyla. Whilst autistic like her sister, she is the more outgoing one of the two which is why she disappears from time to time- needing to recharge her social batteries in the shadows. Like her more monstrous appearance hints at; Shemmer is at first glance the stereotypical evil twin. She has an extensive knowledge on horror movies and often likes pranking people by scaring them in ways inspired by the movies she enjoys. With her wit and charm she usually only gets a slap on the wrist for her antics and some believe she is using her disability to her advantage. Only to her beloved twin, she dares to open up to how she’s vulnerable to states of depression due to her autism and how she is actually too much of a chicken to scare little children with the same props she uses on her friends. She simply pretends to be the tougher one and be the bigger bully scaring other bullies away from Twyla. She’s very protective over her little sister and has a weak spot for little kids. She prefers giving nightmares to people she thinks that deserve it like parents who hurt their children. Shemmer does not really have any true friends aside from Lagoona Blue and Draculaura and drifts from social circles to another depending on her mood. She does have a pretty close frenemy relationship with Toralei though and usually when Shemmer needs to recruit someone to make one of Twyla’s bullies experience the nightmare of their lifetime- its this kitty that’s at her side. Favorite Activities: Reading up on history with her sister. Scaring people. Writing poetry (which occasionally end up as lyrics for the Hissfits) Trivia: Shemmer’s name fits the same naming pattern as her sister. Like Twyla’s name obviously refers to twilight, Shemer’s name refers to the Dutch word for twilight, schemering. Shemmer typically wears more bold colors compared to Twyla to fit her bolder bright blue hair. This also refers to Dutch specific old tales of the boogeyman where he dressed in bright, bold colors. Shemmer often refers to herself as a lovable pest.  Creators notes: Being autistic myself, I liked the idea of having a darker autistic character who's special interests are more morbidly inclined like horror movies- as those always have been a fascination of mine. I always thought Monster High doesn't creates enough dolls with tails, and I get why it's annoying like when it comes to the clothes (which is why I made Shemmer's tail removable), but I still think its a bit of a misser so I gave Shemmer a tail with my 3d pen. And yes, aside from styling Shemmer's hair the exact same as Twyla, I also gave them identical moles to amp up the twin effect. For those who aren't neurodivergent: Identical neurodivergent twins absolutely happen. I actually attended special needs school with a pair of identical twins.

[discet]

So, what about this idea: what if Sasha was either never born or never met Anne/Marcy (whichever one's more interesting)? How would Anne and Marcy be affected, and would they still go to Amphibia?

I actually kind of already did a backstory for this a while back with a star vs. crossover ask.

Essentially what it boils down to is that the two end up with a very sweet and wholesome friendship dynamic, but their school life is a lot tougher. Anne does her best to stand up for Marcy, but has trouble standing up for herself. Years of bullying having a similar effect as Sasha's put downs in the long run.

Which would only get worse if the two develop and then realize their crushes on one another. I doubt they would be very good at hiding it and going to a Catholic school while dating could paint a bigger target on their backs. [Though For the Sake of this AU, lets say they aren't together yet.]

As for going to Amphibia, I would guess probably not. I think Marcy would still panic after finding out she was moving, but I don't think she would be in the library on Anne's birthday without Sasha to press Anne to play hooky. So she doesn't know that the box was special, and even if she did I don't think she would think to steal it or pressure Anne to do so.

Though its not like you couldn't contrive to get them there if you really wanted it. Maybe by accident? If so, I think their adventure would be very different.

I imagine it would be a lot less dramatic. More of a survival/road trip sort of story, with it being about the two growing closer and embracing some of the feelings that they didn't feel safe/comfortable with revealing back home.

It would be very different tonally basically, and long term I don't know what it would look like.