I have fallen down the "humans are space orcs/earth is space Australia" hole
I see a lot about humans being scary durable and cute and they bond readily to other creatures type of posts. But like what if the aliens don’t understand that we can bond with other creatures sometimes MORE than other humans….
Zůrłtg is “best friends” with human-trixie, their crew first got their human 7 cycles ago and it has been a fast friendship, humans are infamous for their bonding ability, but Zůrłtg didn’t know that they sometime bond more with one person then others. Zůrłtg was honored when human-trixie bestowed upon zem the title “best-friend”. Human-trixie joined the crew as there botanist, which might be part of there friendship as Zůrłtg is made mostly out of cellulose. She has been a true asset to the crew, as she has saved many a fellow crew member from harm with her bravery and courage.
Zůrłtg remembers unwillingly the time she pushed Captain Cul out the way of a carnivorous plant only to be devoured herself, and when all thought she had perished bust out of the bloom with the plants brain stem in hand.
Human-trixie is also adorable, she is small and kind and smart. So if this is what humans are like it no wonder everyone was so excited to be meeting with Space Crew Valen as they also has a human aboard. Maybe they will be lucky and their humans will mate and they can have baby humans!
Unfortunately for Zůrłtg the Valen crew human was not like human-trixie. He was not as small as human-trixie or having pleasing brown “hair” from his head, in fact he seemed to always be making the face human-trixie makes when she is displeased, though not nearly as adorable.
But ze tried not to judge a book by its cover as human-trixie would say and was extatic to meet him.
Even more unfortunate, the human did not choose to bond with zem as human-trixie did, in fact quite the opposite, this human, human-dave, did not like zem at all, calling zem a (swear word) jolly green giant and that he should (swear word) off.
OH NO this is terrible!!! Human-Dave will tell human-trixie not to like zem anymore and he will lose his “best-friend”. If ze had tearducts he would be crying like human-trixie when her pet-hamster-walnut died. Human-trixie must never know this or she will surely not like zem anymore!
To zes dismay human-trixie knew something was wrong the second that she saw his drooping mumds. Zůrłtg ended up telling her everything as ze is not as adept at the act of deception as her.
Zůrłtg watched with horor as human-trixie got really really still, “he said what?” she spoke with a stone voice so unlike her normal happy squeaky tones.
She got up.
This is it.
She is abandoning zem. She told zem to follow him as she walked calmly to the common room where the visiting crew was.
There must be a ceremony to leave a “best-friend” that another human must witness Zůrłtg thought. Or maybe she wanted say hurtful things with human-dave at him. Zůrłtgs mumds were dragging on the floor at this point.
Much to Zůrłtgs surprised as he watched human-trixie mall human-dave screaming swears words with a violence that none of either crews thought possible for such a small adorable being.
Zůrłtg was still disappointed about not getting any human babies but ze was releaved that ze was the “best-friend” of such a fierce creature.
Summary (story spoilers): someone delivers some unexpected and unpleasant news, sending you running. Sam and Benny confront Dean, and the three of them go looking for you.
Pairing: AU!Dean x Reader
Word Count: 2,500
Warnings (again, spoilers): lots of language, angst, cheating, feelings of betrayal and worthlessness
A/N: Thank you guys for all your patience! My show this weekend went really well! I came in 3rd out of 17 and qualified for Nationals in early May! Hope you enjoy this installment, though I think I’ll have a few upset messages…
Warnings: Smut, fighting, smut, rough smut, Sub!Dean, Dom!Dean (sorta), Dom!Reader, Sub!Reader, gambling, smut, use of sex toy, smut, oh…did I mention smut?
Word Count: 3819
A/N: This was written for @avasmommy224 birthday smut challenge. My prompt is in bold and please forgive me for this lol I had an idea so out of my comfort zone and ran with it. Please leave feedback! it is welcome and appreciated
There will be a part 2 later today!!!! Maybe even a part 3 in the future!
You love your job, plain and simple. You were probably one of the few people who had the pleasure of saying that but it was true. Sometimes things got a little heated but you were more than equipped to handle just about any situation tossed your way. You had just dealt the halfway mark of the current blackjack game at the casino you worked at. It was a table full of testosterone to say the least. One guy is burly with tattoo sleeves down both arms, definitely someone to steer clear of in any kind of hostile situation, the next is a bit smaller than him and drop-dead gorgeous. He’s slightly built and has the most stunning green eyes you have ever seen and every now and then you catch those eyes travelling up and down your physique; what’s visible due to the waist high blackjack table that is. You catch yourself having to fight a smile back every now and then whenever he looks up at you and sends you a flirty wink or two. Casino rules and expectations can be very tricky and the wrong hand gesture or facial expression can throw up red flags, cheating was severely frowned upon and anyone was a suspect.
I know this is going to sound totally made up but before she met my actual grandfather (who passed away too early for me to remember) my grandmother on my mom’s side was engaged (or going to be engaged) to the guy who played the short-lived live action Jolly green giant, and established the look they still put on the cans.
He left her to pursue a Hollywood career that didn’t even pan out and after she passed away in 2003 she left behind some journal pages about how it still hurt to see his likeness at the grocery store even forty years later after a whole other husband and kids.
So here we are again with the million dollar question. Why would a fiercely private man suddenly in the past months want to advertise (yes advertise) to the large group of OL fandom where he is and with whom? From his previous SM postings even before stardom he was pretty discrete and now he's "dropping bricks" (I think you said) all around like Jolly Green Giant from sea-to-shining-sea and dumpster fires. None of this fits Sam's pre/post fame habits. He's just acting so weird. Space cadet.
The bonus round question is why a man who’s just good buddies with his co-star hasn’t been seen in public with her doing buddy stuff. No platonic dinners. No friendly trips to the corner pub. No double date vacays with his lady friend, BFF and her fella. Very interesting what’s out in the open (along with the hows and the whens) and what’s kept guarded.
Holy shit guys…… I really like how this one turned out! I know that her hair isn’t exactly as curly as it should be, but I’m still messing around with how I do hair and this was the best I could do. Also, when I was doing her skin I couldn’t help but think of the Jolly Green Giant XD It’s also like 1 in the morning, I should go to sleep.
A/N: Hello, everyone! So, this fic is dedicated to the amazing @topbananapuff , who always endures my Iwashimizu wearing makeup headcannons and said ‘wtf bro Ebumi wears it, too.’ Enjoy
Summary: Iwashimizu loves wearing makeup, but he needs a little help. Good thing Ebumi’s around.
Iwashimizu stood awkwardly by his locker, hands clasped together and eyes downcast. Most of the team had already headed home for the day, eager to take real showers and eat at home. However, Iwashimizu couldn’t leave yet. He had a mission to complete.
If he could muster up the courage to even start it, that is.
A loud bang sounded from the other side of the locker room, making Iwashimizu wince. So, Ebumi was still here. Iwashimizu still had time to ask him. But his body just wouldn’t move; his feet felt like lead and his body felt like his blood had been replaced with sand. The opportunity to reach out to Ebumi was slipping away with each passing moment.
Somehow, Iwashimizu managed to drag himself toward the sound of Ebumi’s laughter and general chaotic noise. He stopped at the end of the row of lockers and stared for a moment. Ebumi would hate him if he asked. What if Iwashimizu had just imagined the whole ordeal? Then he would ask a ridiculous favor and Ebumi might never be able to forgive him for being so stupid.
“Oi, jolly green giant. You need something?”
Ebumi’s voice sliced through every thought in Iwashimizu’s mind. A blush rose to the blonde’s cheeks. He had Ebumi’s attention. If he asked now, it would all be over with and he could go home.
“E-Ebumi-san -” Iwashimizu stuttered out.
“Nah, none of that formal bullshit. Just tell me what’s up.” Ebumi said.
“I-I was wonder i-if m-maybe you c-could, uhm, i-if you could…”
“Spit it out, skyscraper.”
“T-Tell me how your makeup stays so nice!”
Ebumi cocked an eyebrow at the blushing first year. He knew he had a reputation for being kind of a delinquent jackass, so this had probably taken every ounce of the kid’s courage. Scanning Iwashimizu’s face, Ebumi took note of the nearly perfect eyeliner wings on the blonde’s eyelids and the clumped mascara on his lashes. A shame, really - Iwashimizu had such long, beautiful eyelashes already. Ebumi was jealous.
“What are you talking about?” Ebumi asking, hoping for more details.
Iwashimizu looked down. “W-Well, your makeup never runs during games or practices. A-And it always looks so smooth, like you just applied it.”
Ebumi preened at the compliments. “Of course. I’m the shit. My makeup is fucking fantastic all the time.”
“C-Could you teach me?”
If it were any other first year, Ebumi would have told them to fuck off and die. Yet, when he looked at Iwashimizu, with his soft voice and kind eyes and general brightness, he couldn’t say no. The blonde needed confidence and goddamn it, Ebumi was going to make him looks so good, Iwashimizu would have no choice but to be a sexy badass.
“Show me what you use. Come on, whip it out, let’s go.” Ebumi commanded.
Iwashimizu’s face lit up. “Th-Thank you, Ebumi! Uhm, let me just find my case.”
Ebumi waited. He watched Iwashimizu dig around in his backpack and fish out a little floral patterned makeup bag. He had to admit that with how shy Iwashimizu was, he had expected a plain black case. Apparently the giant was full of surprises. Iwashimizu handed to pouch to the winger.
The contents were absolutely pitiful. Cheap eyeliner and mascara, the worst matched shade of foundation Ebumi had ever seen, and a few tubes of chapstick and lip gloss that were old and dried out. How was Iwashimizu even surviving? Ebumi was so goddamn high maintenance that he wouldn’t let anything that cost less than 1400 yen touch his face.
“This is all trash. Who even uses pencil eyeliner anymore? And this foundation doesn’t match your skin. This fucking lip gloss is so old they don’t even make this brand anymore. What the fuck, Iwashi?” Ebumi ranted.
Iwashimizu curled in on himself. “Sorry, Ebumi. I-I can’t buy it very easily. People look at me weird when I try.”
“Then fuck ‘em. Here, I’ve got extra stuff. I’ll give you real makeup and half your problems will disappear. You like that natural pink color for the lips, right?”
“Oh, no, Ebumi! Please don’t give up your things!”
Ebumi laughed. “Quit worrying so damn much. Ise keeps buying me this shit to woo me. It’s working but I ain’t going to tell him that. So it’s fine. Now, do you like natural pink or not?”
Iwashimizu nodded shyly. “I like them to be light and shiny.”
“Figures. You like the shojo manga heroine look. You do that for yourself or to impress someone?”
“Uh, well, I like the way I look, so I guess myself. But -”
“It’s the little fucknut who’s trying to be a winger, isn’t it? God, don’t do your makeup for that fucking shithead. You wanna look pretty? Look pretty. Do it for you.”
“I do. But sometimes I add a little extra to…nevermind. It’s so silly.”
“What’s fucking silly is that you don’t have any glittery eyeshadows when I know for a fact you like glitter. You got twenty of those goddamn glitter pens in your bag right now. I’ve got some of that, too, and you can have it.”
Ebumi ignored the gratitude, reaching into his own backpack to find his makeup case. It wasn’t difficult; the thing was bright pink with ‘TASTY BITCH’ written on it. Opening up the pouch, Ebumi pulled out all the essentials: liquid eyeliner, mascara, lip gloss and lip pencils, foundation, eyeshadow. He decided against blush. Iwashimizu blushed so much that he didn’t need it.
“Take them. Dump the other shit. This is all waterproof, so it’ll stay on in a fucking flood. Now, open your eyes so I can teach you how to put on mascara.” Ebumi ordered.
Iwashimizu obeyed. Ebumi began slowly rolling the mascara on, carefully flicking the brush at the end of the lashes to create a sharp point. He smirked when Iwashimizu gasped in amazement. God, the kid really needed to gain some standards. Any middle school girl could do this in two seconds.
It was then that Ebumi realized that Iwashimizu wasn’t like him. Iwashimizu didn’t have the confidence to storm into a makeup shop and demand that the stylists teach him. He probably couldn’t ask his mom for help and the girls at school would probably laugh at him. Iwashimizu had taught himself. No wonder the blonde was so excited; it was like finally having a mentor.
“Pucker up. Lips next.” Ebumi said.
Picking up the lip pencil, Ebumi carefully traced Iwashimizu’s lips. Goddamn this boy was lucky - his lips were soft and pouty. Ebumi dabbed a bit of lip gloss on to finish up the look.
“There. You’re fucking fab, Iwashi.” Ebumi said.
“Thank you. It feels…different. Not in a bad way, of course! It’s just -” Iwashimizu said.
“It’s okay. I used to use crappy makeup, too, before I realized that it fucked up my skin. It’s different, but you like it, right?”
“Oh, yes! I love it!”
“Great. Show me how to do the eyeliner wings. I can never get them right, and I’m pretty sure Ise tired of my bitching about it.”
“O-Oh. Okay. See, you just have to trace and fill. Like this.”
Iwashimizu placed a gentle hand beneath Ebumi’s chin, tilting his head up to get a better angle to apply the eyeliner. Hands unusually steady, Iwashimizu drew a perfect line across Ebumi’s eyelid and drew a small curve to the side and brought it back down. He filled in the space and started on the other eye. Once he finished, he offered Ebumi his compact to examine the work. Ebumi let out a loud laugh, startling Iwashimizu.
“You amazing bitch! I look like a goddamn model! Thanks.” Ebumi said, slapping Iwashimizu on the back.
“I’m happy to help. Thank you for helping me.” Iwashimizu said softly.
“We should probably get the hell out of here. I bet the little fucknut’s waiting for you.”
Iwashimizu giggled, and Ebumi wondered how Gion hadn’t already made a move. Gathering his things, Ebumi followed Iwashimizu out of the locker room. Sure enough, Gion was waiting outside the entrance, sitting on the ground and drawing in the dirt. Iwashimizu gave him a gentle tap on the shoulder.
“I was wondering if you were ever coming out, Udo. I’ve been waiting forever.” Gion said, getting to his feet and dusting off his pants.
“I’m sorry. Ebumi and I were talking.” Iwashimizu said.
Gion made an unimpressed face and looked at Iwashimizu, search the taller boy’s eyes for a lie. Instead, he noticed how big Iwashimizu’s eyes seemed and how…well, Gion couldn’t describe it. He just knew it made his stomach twist and his heart beat weirdly.
“What’s up with your face? It’s weird.” Gion blurted.
Iwashimizu’s cheeks burned red, his eyes downcast. Ebumi growled and marched over to the shorter boy, grabbing his ear. Gion shouted and began to slap at him.
“Give us a sec, Iwashi. Gion forgot something in the locker room.” Ebumi gritted out.
Ebumi dragged Gion into the locker room and slapped him in the back of the head. And then he did it again. And then one more time for good measure. Gion rubbed the now sore spot and glared at Ebumi.
“What the hell?” Gion snapped.
“What the fuck was that? ‘It’s weird’ - I should cut off your fucking dick, you dumb shit. Why would you say that to Iwashimizu?” Ebumi hissed.
“Because that’s how it made me feel!”
“Well, I hope you’re feeling fucking pretty now because you’re going to walk out there and tell Iwashimizu how fucking pretty he looks. You’re going to say ‘wow, Iwashi, your eyes really pop today’ and ‘geez, your lips are so shiny’ and ‘holy shit, your hair looks amazing.’”
“Why would I say that? It would make Iwashi uncomfortable.”
“God, you’re a fucking dumbass. Just listen to your smart as hell senpai and tell the giant he’s pretty, okay? Shit.”
Ebumi slapped Gion upside the head once more. The brunette scowled, but relented. After agreeing to follow Ebumi’s orders, Gion wandered back outside and stood awkwardly next to Iwashimizu. The blonde looked a bit sad; maybe Gion had really hurt him.
“Hey, Iwashimizu.” Gion said.
“Y-Yes, Gion-kun?” Iwashimizu asked worriedly.
“You look pretty today.”
Iwashimizu blushed, tucking his hair behind his ear shyly. “Thank you.”
“You wanna get something to eat on the way home?”
“Uhm, sure! McDonald’s?”
Gion became flustered. “Sure.”
Ebumi smirked as he watched the two walk away. It was official; he was the best senpai ever. He just hoped the little fucknut wouldn’t fuck it all up. He didn’t want to have to cut the shorty’s dick off; that would definitely make Iwashimizu upset.
“tommy honey - but did u have FUN” - not the babbitt the other tom - this aint no mpd or nothin - u hadda been there - took a foto - but - it did ant come out - we sung loud - and he pete townsend the mic stand - wait that was last month - when i wuz still playin - last night it was peas full like a jolly green giant - trance ended - dinner to bring home - just missed the bus - but a taxi yes ( t dont uber ever) - there waiting - is the music 2 loud - nah turn it up man - aretha on - then van - turn it louder so u dont here me singin - u might get disgusted - keep the change theres no meter - rhyming not so much - bout the kitty or nothin - doing arrangements - in my head always - they always sound different - past echoes and reverb - start thinking bout the strange - i could blame the acid - but it started before that - by a long shot - but that would be a digress shun the thought - this is just a snap chat
This new one is for Vegetable tater-tots and it starts out ok, Giant stepping into water for shock factor, kids eating the things– then cuts to the Green Giant standing in a lake while his shoes are on a hill nearby and a lady is parked in her convertible by one of the shoes. There’s a boat in the water that gets sent across the water a bit because of the Giant walking into the water and standing there. Now, ok this is fine and well, but then the narrator stops talking about the food and comments that since the Giant has been away learning about the recipes, he’s also learned that “the jump squats he’s been doing have been paying off”. And it cuts to the woman in her car, very obviously looking up his leaf toga/tunic at his ass and thighs. She does a deep breath and just barely not whistles, and shifts in her seat.
This has literally 0% to do with veggie tots. It’s just there. I just saw it and i. There’s size kink and then there’s size kink. Honey, honey no. You’ll die. I respect your bravery, but like. Scale down a bit.
And also that riddle is from that one comic where Rids lets loose a semi with a giant corn. lol.
Also, why do all these characters i’m drawing Ed as have pointed ears and pixie shoes??
And now that i think about it, silver age poison ivy kinda looks like the green giant. with the whole outfit made of leaves thing he had going on. She could be his wife or like a gender bent version. lol.
Do you think the reason dylan was rough with girls in gym was because it sort of turned him on? like he said he had 'an extreme bondage liking', so do you think he got like a kick out of doing that to some of the girls? like it was sort of one of his fantasies?
Well, to preface, Dylan was automatically determined a social misfit in general at Columbine but no where else was his ‘loser’ reputation more intensely amplified than that of gym class. P.E. is a class that expects and assumes social collaboration and social competitiveness in an active way. Dylan felt excruciatingly excluded and ostracized. You can just imagine skinny, gangly, long-limbed Dylan in his mandatory CHS gym uniform of shorts and a muscle or t-shirt and there is an instantaneous sense of this poor guy standing out like a sore thumb as the ‘tallest in the class’, automatically made to feel stripped visibly bare simply by his sheer physicality - yet internally, shy, awkward and introverted, and wishing he could blend into the wall and disappear. The impulse to ditch or be really super late for class must have been tempting. Peers in the class referred to him as “stretch” or the “jolly green giant”. The gym teacher made Dylan do
bear crawl exercises for being late to class constantly. Can anyone blame him for stalling on his way to a much detested class which made him anxious and on guard? Somehow being late was worth the public peer humiliation of bear crawls in a twisted, defiant sort of way.
Dylan’s diversion file report shows an ongoing account of the counselor noting his dropped grade in gym and that he’d better stop making “victim” excuses with the tardies to remedy the situation - or else. Like many of us that loathed the infamous gym class, I think it was pretty obvious that Dylan automatically assumed a form of ‘survival mode’ upon finally showed up for the class. He would brace himself and don a thick armor of ‘sneer’ and folded arms as his best posturing defense. Pretending not to hear them talk about him. It also sounds to me that he didn’t even have so much as one friend in this class. (Thank goodness morning bowling with friends was a P.E. option in senior year!) Peers referred to him by those ‘freak show’ like names, and you can bet he was acutely aware of it - though on the surface, he pretended indifference. Dylan internalized all of it with a bitter attitude and acted out his aggressions when/where the opportunity arose.
So, given all of that: it’s easy to see how he took a retaliating, justified posturing during competitive games - slamming people with a contemptuous expression during the no-rules dodge ball game or tackled people, heck, why not girls?, when they were playing tag team football, even ‘cheating’.Though we’re not entirely certain what she means by his supposed blatant cheating. Dylan didn’t have the nerve, or the physique, to physically go after the jocks and tackle them without likely getting ganged up on. Instead, he passive-aggressively took out his pent up frustration on those who he sensed were easiest, vulnerable targets - girls. Dylan occasionally seized the opportunity to act out and push a few girls in line, to tackle girls during games and harass them by calling them “bitch” when they talked back to him. I speculate that he wasn’t just seeking out random girls either but especially attempting to victimize the snooty, vapid girls - those he felt had popular status levels in their associations with jocks. Anything remotely associated to a jock just got his hackles up. Tara Zobjeck is probably a prime example of that type. When her boyfriend, who is likely a jock, confronted Dylan, he backed off immediately. Of course, we don’t know for certain that Dylan only singled out girls associated with jocks but I think it’s a good bet even though it’s a speculation on my part So, Dylan walked into that class daily believing that the class, as a whole, rejected him. He was by himself most of the time, he was habitually late to class, he barely squeaked by in most of the sports and was seen as inept and uncoordinated. From Dyl’s POV, he was certain the entire class was ‘the enemy’ against him from the start and so he probably felt the need to ‘defend himself’ against them whenever, wherever and however he could, armed with his bitter contempt and a massive chip-on-his-shoulder.
Dylan was vastly different outside of gym class. Friends describe Dylan outside of gym as as‘gentle’, ‘happy’,‘laid back’ and ‘nice’ – but here, in gym class, Dylan discovered a bullying streak with himself and had discovered a pastime outlet for his frustration by exploiting a few girls when the perfect opportunity arose. They’d be sorry for wasting his hour in a worthless class. Of course, I am in no way trying to minimize his bad behavior. Bullying sucks period. Feeling so desperate and powerless in class that you feel you’re only capable of victimizing girls is..sad. That said, I’m simply attempting to explore the full snapshot and potential psychological mentality that led to Dylan’s normally uncharacteristic passive-aggressive style of acting out. :)
On a deeper level, I think Dylan took his aggression out on girls in gym class because, in his mind, he felt that women didn’t recognize him as attractively worthy enough and he believed to his core that he could never have women because women would never want him. So, there was this contemptuous, bitter, self loathing posturing about him. In a class where it’s all about the competition, Dylan’s own form of competitive expressionwas to rage against the entire class as a collective group against him that rejected him for his low-on-the-totem-pole social status. Based on gym class witnesses, Dylan was automatically rejected as inadequate in regards to the male competitive sports stuff. Since, he was painfully conscious of that fact that he performed more visibly, physically uncoordinated that he normally would, if he were playing soccer or baseball among friends he knew, people that liked him. Plus, I think in gym, Dylan just went out of his way to under perform as much as possible; he slacked off with defiant indignation. Why give it your best shot when you feel no one likes you by default?
As if that wasn’t painful enough to endure for the hour, there was also, another sort of ‘competition’ that he innately knew he was out-of-league in regards to: that would be the undercurrent of female-to-male attractional potential within the class. The threat of that and his failing in it, made him jealous of others i.e. jocks, And of course, it’s pretty apparent to dudes that girls are wearing the bare minimum with the gym uniform of shorts and a t-shirt revealing bare legs and jiggling bits. ;) It’s that usual, unavoidable awkward/distraction thing about co-ed gym where everyone is wearing the socialistic ‘cookie cutter’ uniform that despite looking dull manages to show enough ‘bare’ to be..noticable - and to begin with, teens are at odds with involuntarily displaying more of their bodies than they’d like to their peers. Gym class is judgment and distraction personified. Even Eric mentions how he couldn’t help but notice the girls in gym and how he’d fantasized about having them by force.
Dylan’s conduct in gym class was invariably a potent explosive cocktail of anger, resentment. self-loathing (“nobody accepting me even though I want to be accepted, me doing badly and being intimidated in any and all sports, me looking weird and acting shy — BIG problem.”) plus that physical and metaphorical frustration over girls. Women were untouchable and off limits to him, so he in return, treats them roughly, spitefully. I don’t even think Dylan even consciously sets out to bully girls in gym class; instead, it’s more of an unconscious, reactive thing he just devolves into doing it out of a combination of suppressed rage and self-perceived sexual unattractiveness. There must have been a smug adrenaline rush after exerting his body physically over girls in class – with a shove or a push, relishing in his harassment of some stuck up, shallow, designer clothes wearing ‘bitch’ was like a small victory to him. The she on the receiving end of his slight, represented something that was too good for him and so why not make a point of pissing off her and a few others when they got in his way - then they’d know he was not just some loser freak-geek that nobody in the class liked - but someone to be reckoned with. That sneerish vibe of ’girls: stay away from me if you know what’s good for you.’
From witness testimony, it sounds as though he also instigated on occasion and tackled girls during flag football. Why go after the guy opponents when you can tackle a few girls with some unexpected, hard body contact? Like most teen dudes, Dylan didn’t process his aggressive, suppressed sexual impulses - he just did annoying in-your-face shit to piss girls off. Instead of it being the usual ‘boy picks on girls because he likes them’ it was more like a Dylan picking on girls because he hates them because he’s not entitled to like them. Bullying has a sense of power about it; at its very fundamental level, it simply satisfying and boosts self confidence to exert ones will over others, putting the instigator in charge and control – end of story. And to answer the question, yes, I do see Dylan’s behavior in gym class as potentially connected to that hidden, sexually kinky side of himself, his ‘bondage-extreme liking’. In his journal, Dylan seems conflicted and chagrinned about that side of him self that gravitated towards fetish and bondage porn. His ‘urge and purge’ mentality translates to an obvious outlet for his suppressed frustrations, his assumed permanent inadequacy with the opposite sex – essentially, his lack of control over females. So, roughing up girls in gym class out of a blurred, confused ‘turned-on’ mix of pent up aggression and unconsciously repressed sexual frustration over girls, yes, definitely. Do I think he got a kick out of roughing girls up in gym? Yes.
This, of course, doesn’t mean we should make the assumption that this automatically makes Dylan sexually dominant in all of his 17 years. ;) What it does mean is that Dylan is generally shy, quiet and introverted and he’s used to automatically suppressing the more aggressive, ‘in appropriate’ or negative aspects of himself and so these parts of himself spill out in other ways, including his personal taste in porn. He discovered opportune moments in the much loathed gym class where he could act out his aggressions physically, and as a bonus, with girls (!) and he could relish asserting his authority, feel empowered and in charged for once. Mm..a bit like when normally reticent Dylan suddenly exudes an air of smugness while wearing his trench in a restaurant with mom and doesn’t stop when she asks him to take the coat off because it’s scaring people. His occasional inappropriately abusive contact with girls in gym provides him an opportunity to exorcise control over girls when he normally feels he has none, and so this connects and relates to his attraction to his ‘extreme liking’ of certain bondage/fetish porn and related fantasies thereof.
Michelle Hartsough’s accusation that Dylan hit her at Blackjack pizza, seems to be the only location, other than gym class, where Dylan was reported to have acted out physically aggressive manner with girl. I think the fact that he chooses to act out aggressive in Gym class is an integral component. Overall, Gym class is a rampant place for bullying, girls and dudes are in close proximity in the minimal gym uniforms. Plus, it’s an environment where engaging actively in sports gives plenty of opportune instances to have some manner of accidental or intentional physical contact. Dylan could minimize his instigated physical contact under the veiled guise of ‘just engaging in gym class activities’. He could loath the class as a whole for automatically rejecting him and play ‘kick the dog’, asserting his dominance over vulnerable targets - girls - because he already assumed they were against him by default. Then when some girls called him out on his shit, he could feel justified in calling them bitch. Dylan set up a self-sabotaging, self fulfilling prophecy for himself - a viscious cycle of: class rejects him as a freak; he rebukes the class and acts out passive-aggressively; they, in turn now, really dislike him; repeat. But not everyone disliked Dylan in gym class, not every girl outright rejected him, unfortunately, unbeknownst to him too. Some, one?, like Sara Schweitzberger, could see the bigger, sadder picture beyond the political pecking order and understood the essential core of Dylan’s struggle and misery in gym class.
Nicole Ziccardi:Had gym with Klebold, she said that he would play dodge ball in the class and that he played hard and always had a sneer on his face that seemed to her to be hateful look. Several people in the class referred him as “The jolly Green Giant”.
Josh Chavez: Stretch:Everybody made fun of Dylan in class. They even called him “stretch” because he was so tall. He said Dylan was uncoordinated and wasn’t very good at sports.
Reddit:planetanimals:What I remember about Klebold. He was awkward looking, kind of unnattractive I guess. I remember the teacher making him do bear crawls for being late to class constantly. We played this no rules dodge ball game. It was just every man for himself, with like 50 or 60 kids. Him and this really scrawny kid were last and the scrawny kid beat him. for some reason i won’t forget that., kind of unnattractive I guess.
Sara Schweitzberger: To Love The UnlovedSome of the kids would tease him because of his height as he was the tallest person in his class. She continued to say that Klebold just ignored them. Sara said it was obvious he felt socially ostracized. “He really felt unloved,” she said. He wasn’t so bad. He was lonely. I just wish I could give him a hug and tell him that I care.
Anyway.. that was rather long-winded. My apologies for the uber lengthy late-night Dyl thesis. ;)
“Fritz isn’t going to let you do it, Mary.” Bella said as they stood to the side of the brotherhood mansion’s foyer messing with a vase of freshly cut flowers. The two females were dressed casually, t-shirts and jeans for Bella and a polo shirt and khakis for Mary, and both of them in their bare feet.
Mary frowned as she took a hair tie out of her pocket and gathered her hair into a ponytail, wanting to get the hair out of her face. “I’ll have you know I am a very good gardener. My thumb is so green you could call me the jolly green giant. He has to let me use the garden.”
“You know how the doggen get when we …” Bella trailed off as something across the foyer had caught her attention. Mary turned to look at what was so interesting and her jaw dropped.
Striding out of the library being lead by George was Wrath. Usually this wasn’t a cause for a conversation to drop but this time however it was. And the reason was braids. Wrath’s long black hair that was usually worn loose to his hips was now just dozens upon dozens of braids. And adding to that, each braid was tied off or clipped off with a multitude of brightly colored ribbons and hair barrettes.
And poor George looked like who ever had made Wrath over also got the same treatment. The golden retriever’s fur was also sporting hair barrettes and there was a huge pink ribbon tied around his tail and another around his neck.
Immediately both Bella and Mary broke into huge grins as they looked at each other before looking back at Wrath and George.
Wrath stopped suddenly and turned his head towards the two females. Inhaling sharply he immediately knew who they were by their scent alone.
“Not. A. Word.” Wrath said menacingly. Of course it was hard to take the Vampire King seriously when his hair was a mass of braids, ribbons and barrettes and his dog no better off.