bully survivor

Service Dog Appreciation Post 4/?

Not the most flattering picture of me but that’s not the point of this point so it’s fine.

I felt a seizure coming on and Daphne sat up and alerted me to let me know that I needed to sit or lay down in a better place. I walked to the front of the room with Daphne on my right and my cane on my left, and tapped my professor on the shoulder to let her know I was about to have a seizure and needed to step out.

I started to get really shaky and stumbled a bit so she opened and held the door for me. I managed to get down the hall to a couch with Daphne’s help and woke up about 20 minutes later with Daphne draped across my lap, only remembering the beginning of the seizure.

It’s not very often that I pass out or for that long but I’m so thankful that Daphne is my Service Dog and knows to watch over me when I’m vulnerable. I’m also incredibly lucky and thankful that she’s able to predict my major seizures before they occur because even a small heads up gives me time to get myself away from hard or sharp objects and off my feet.

I will not change, not for anyone. Far too many people have caused me to hate myself but not anymore. I’ve fallen and risen countless times but this time, it is different. I won’t let anyone walk over me ever again. You can try, try and fail because I, I have stopped caring entirely. I will not change myself for anyone, not anymore.
—  justslowlywritingitall



Stop scrolling for a minute.



Your existence matters. 


You being here makes the world a better place. 


You deserve good things.


You’ll be okay.


I love you very much.




—~ Please reblog this if it brightened your day. Someone who follows your blog may need a little light, too. :) ~—

she has been through hell
the experience hardened her
put an armor around her self
built by sparkling pebbles
and angel tears

gone are the fragile flower
the delicate swan
the soft bit of coal

now she is like a diamond
a flower of stone
nothing can destroy her
never hurt her again

she transformed herself
into a new entity
like something
out of this world

holding her head high
carrying a legacy
on her shoulders

she survived
she never gave up
she has been to hell
and she came back


(Writerscreedchallenge - ‘the diamond flower’)

One thing I can rely on the Skam fandom to do is to take all the wrong messages from a statement and turn everything ugly and problematic. 

And it’s funny that they are doing it to the exact sentence that confirms their actions too!

“ As soon as you start looking for hate, you’ll find it”

As a person who has actually dealt with ignorance and racism and xenophobia, it is beyond insulting to me to see people of social and cultural privilege lash out about one of my most favorite clips this season, calling out supposed “problematic” behavior and invalidating the experience of people like me. 

I’ve seen variations of “Isak is a white male who doesn’t have the place to tell Sana racism doesn’t exist.” to “how dare he likens homosexuality to being Muslim?!” and “ I can’t believe Sana just let him say those things…”

It makes me wonder, for the millionth time, if we are watching the same show…

Through out this season, as an actual Muslim, my take and understanding of the characters and their dynamics and their behaviors were ignored,dismissed or down-right insulted!

I was spoken over, called out for “victim blaming”, told that I only see “black and white” and that “I should stop watching Skam and go watch shows that treat everything as black and white concepts” .

The same people cried out when Sana was “ignored in the chats”, was put through “micro-aggression” and was questioned for her beliefs and standards. 

All the same people who wanted Sana to talk and express herself, completely dismissed my understandings of Islamic culture when I pointed it out to them!

Now I wasn’t very bothered by it, because I no longer practice Islam and I was never the type of person to get riled up and all red in the face over haters. So I let it be. 

But with my experiences as a bully survivor and an ex-Muslim with strong ties to the religion and eastern culture, I probably understand Sana in a way that most of those non-Muslim justice-fighters don’t really understand! 

For instance, a lot of the stuff that made everyone SOOOO ANGRY were lost on me! 

I almost didn’t write this…but this is my bog. And I want to have this space to express myself. 

the thing is, for the longest time I was scared to tell anyone about my heritage on Tumblr, because I was afraid that friends that I had made online would stop talking to me if they knew about me and where I come from and my culture. And it was true for some. I have lost some but…I don’t really consider them a loss! 

What I consider a gain is when I opened up and talked to a friend here and she listened. she never judged, she asked questions and listened. Now she’s one of my best friends! Despite the difference in our backgrounds, although to an outside observer we should be on opposite sides, we now understand each other. Because I took a chance on a stranger and told them about myself and instead of accepting the preset of beliefs they were told by media and years of misinformation, they gave a minority a chance and learned my truth.

So yes,racists exist. so do rapists, so do homophobes, so do Nazis. But does that mean that choosing isolation is better?

We live in societies. We live together. And it’s an undeniable truth that Islam and eastern culture are the outsiders to western societies. And it’s good to stay connected to your roots but in order for us all to live in harmony, with freedom and democracy, we need to make an active effort to coexist. And that means for people to actually try to learn from and of each other. 

And I don’t need a hypothetical person “chosen” to represent me and my culture. I do that! Ask me! Pay attention to me! Because no matter what you believe in, you believe in that thing in your own way. A “chosen one” couldn’t possibly represent everyone. It’s important to hear what everyone has to say. 

And I know this from first hand experience, if you look for hate, you will most definitely find it. Because no one is perfect! No one has knowledge and awakening over every subject! you are bound to collide and disagree and feel offended. That’s life! You can go on witch hunts; attack anyone who says and does the slightest problematic things. You can do that. But I know that will only cause you grief and make them defensive. So many people turn their backs on learning about minorities and outsiders because “when they asked; they were laughed at, attacked or humiliated.” So they decided that those people didn’t want to be known so they let it be.

I’m a straight person. And I don’t always know what is considered right or wrong in regards to lgbtq+ related subjects. So I ask my friend who is a bisexual. I try to form my questions in respectful ways. But I ask because I feel like staying in ignorance is worse than asking a stupid question.

And I know we are all fundamentally the same but in practice we are different. Ignoring those differences and hoping we would all get along won’t work.We have to actively try to understand our differences and work things around them.

I could keep on talking about this for a long while, but I’ll cut it short here.(not so short but….)

I only want to say that, I loved today’s clip. And while a lot of people are going to chose to ignore the peaceful message that was at the heart of this clip in favor of the problematic details, I smile to myself knowing a brilliant writer across the world is singing the same song of unity that I have been desperate to hear for years. 

Camp Camp Apocalyptic AU: A Prologue

A/N: In which our favorite trio of little bastards come together in a world where kids can be in charge and peanut butter is worth the life of another. 

Fan-Fiction; concept and ideas belong to me, the characters do not. 

(I apologize it’s not well written but I wrote it and I’m gonna post it)


Apparently The World Ended (Prologue)

He was ten years old when the world ended, alone in his large, empty, robotic-filled house as bombs crashed down and sirens rang out.

Once the disaster ended, and he and parts of the world were very much still alive, he collected what he could from the rubble and ran without any desire to return.

He still had the scars from his father, his dreams were still filled with cold, harsh stares of disapproval and disappointment, but he was free and independent and damn, did it feel good.

But he was ten, and despite his sharp wit and natural brilliance, he wasn’t quite as untouchable as he often felt he was.

“Oh Maxwell,” Pikeman spat, gesturing for Snake to deal another blow to Max’s ribs, “you really are way in over your head, aren’t you?”

“Suck a dick Pikeman,” Max growled, using the wall of the abandoned convenience store to hold him up, “I was just passing through your territory so I didn’t-”

“Excuses, excuses,” Pikeman kicked forward, sending Max tumbling down to the dirt, “now, what were you really doing here?”

“I told you, you fucking idiot,” Max pushed himself up onto his arms, looking his enemy straight in the eyes, “I’m just passing through.”

“Through our surplus room?” Snake gestured to the old store.

Max said nothing, dropping his gaze as he tried to pull his strength together. Pikeman merely smirked.

“I knew it; you just can’t keep your hands to yourself, can you Maxwell?” He gave an ugly, snot-driven laugh, reaching his sweaty hand out  to his defeated opponent. “Hand it over now, Maxwell.”

“Dude come on,” Max coughed, standing himself back up, “it was just a fucking jar of peanut butter. You have over two hundred in there, man. Can’t I trade it for something else? Candles? A broken watch?”

Pikeman froze, his forehead crumpled in thought for a few moments before a yellow, toothy smile began to grow.

“Actually, I have a proposition for you,” he swiped Max’s bag, tripping him once again with a swift kick to the knees, “there’s this weird girl who came through yesterday, stole some of our canned goods and bread. She ran across the tiny desert into the mountains, but she was injured, so she couldn’t have gone far.”

“So why the hell should I care?”

“Because if you want this bag back with the jar, you need to bring her to us by tomorrow mid-day. If you don’t, you either leave without it, or you have to stay as an honorary Wood Scout recruit. Do I make myself clear?”

“Do I have a fucking choice?”

“Twenty four hours, Maxwell,” Pikeman threw down a coil of rope and a hunting knife, “she’s tiny and fast and has a bushel of green curly hair. We’ll be waiting.” Max stood himself up, taking a few breaths before exiting the alleyway to the small desert that lay before him.

It wasn’t exactly a desert; it was just an old field that had been burned and ruined by the Great Disaster and its following conflict. But everyone who lived and roamed in the Mountain Valley area called it a desert, so desert it was named. Max quietly limped across the cracked, dry ground, feeling the eyes of Pikeman watching him from their base tower.

He fucking hated everything that had to do with the Wood Scouts. They were nothing but an imposing, whiny group of abandoned military-school children who bullied any survivor who refused to comply with them.

Max had been stealing shit from them for months now; but in four weeks they somehow came up with a ridiculous new line of defense.

A ridiculously tall, muscular, line of defense.

Max shifted his feet, trudging forward towards the large block of trees as he tried to scan the ground for any trace of her.

He didn’t expect to find a trail of orange paint, but that would work as well.

Max continued to walk slowly, his mind quiet and meditated on the decent weather and the speckles of orange paint that dotted the tall grass and trees that sprouted amongst the dry clay. The grey sky faded into a light orange blending into purple, and as soon as the sun had swollen on the edge of the valley, Max had found what he was looking for.

Er, at least, he thought he did.

“Will you hold the fuck still, Nikki?”

“It’s seriously no big deal Neil; it’s just my wrist!”

“An hour ago you were screaming how you’d rather be eaten by wolves than deal with the pain.”

“See? It’s just getting better!”

Max stared from behind the shrub, hidden from sight among the tall shadows and twigs. Both of them were kids, not much older than himself, if they were even older at all. As Pikeman had explained, the girl possessed a wild mane of green curls and a numerous amount of scars and bruises along her arms and face. The boy, while clearly worn and exhausted, was a lot less banged-up than his companion. He was scrappy and boney and, Max figured, would probably die and be eaten by wolves or some shit if he wasn’t friends with crazy-eyes.

Max glanced down at his rope and knife, and looked back up at his supposed targets. Rolling his eyes, he stepped out of the brush, loosely holding the weapons at his side.

“Hey,” Max threw his arm out to Nikki “were you the crazy dumb-ass that stole from the Wood Scouts?”

The two companions froze, before Nikki jumped up to her feet, Neil’s hands still firmly locked on the set splint. “Who the fuck wants to know?”

“Name’s Max,” he threw up his arms and dropped his weapons, rolling his eyes, “Wood Scouts sent me to kidnap you and bring you back to the camp so they could imprison you or some dumb shit and I could get my fucking bag back.”

“…But, who are you?” Neil asked, giving the splint one final tug before letting go of Nikki’s wrist. “Are you a Wood Scout?”

“Hell no,” Max grunted, “they’re just holding all my weapons and ammunition hostage until I bring you back.”

Nikki blinked. “And you just expect us to walk back with you and get kidnapped.”

“…I mean,” Max shifted, a tad hesitant in his voice, “I wasn’t going to fucking cut you and tie you up like an animal.”

“Then what were you going to do?”

Max scrunched his forehead, remaining quiet for a few moments before a small idea came to his head.

“You escaped the Wood Scouts before, right?”

“I have,” Nikki proudly held her head high, “but Neil here’s a big chicken!”

“I am not!” He protested, “I’m just not built to be super durable, that’s all.”

“Look, who gives a fuck,” Max rolled his eyes, “we’re all out here trying to survive, right? Why don’t we all work together and steal some more shit from them and get the hell out of dodge?”

“And how are we supposed to fight?” Neil protested.

“Like I said Neil,” Nikki scoffed, running over to Max’s side and picking up the pocket knife, “it’s no biggie! I can still fight!”

“And what about me?”

“You got a gun Neil?” Max asked. The young boy faltered, his face turning red.

“How did you-”

“It’s the fucking Apocalypse, okay?” Max shrugged, “everybody’s carrying around fucked up shit. So you got a gun?”

“Yeah, but all I have are blanks.”

“They won’t fucking know the difference,” Max smiled, dropping to the ground and sketching out a plan in the mud, “now, Neil, Nikki, here’s what we’re going to do…”


Pikeman made it far too easy, agreeing to meet behind the convenience store to retrieve Nikki. The rope was tied to her ankle, and she sat cross legged, obviously bored and irritated by the time the Wood Scouts had bothered to show up.

“Alright Max,” Pikeman spat, tossing him his bag back, “all your items back, including the jar of peanut butter.”

“You know I’m not giving her to you until I check this, right?” Max asked, his black eye shooting daggers back at the Wood Scout Leader.

“Fine.” Pikeman pouted, agonizingly watching as Max checked the contents of his bag. Despite his slimy persona, Pikeman had kept his promise, not a single blade or box had been tampered with.

“Okay, here you go,” Max shrugged, dropping Nikki’s rope. Without missing a beat, she charged ahead, ramming herself into Snake and biting his nose like some wild, vicious animal.

“Max!” Pikeman screamed, charging towards Max with his wobbly chicken legs. Max merely turned, stretching his leg just far enough to send Pikeman tumbling into the ground.

“Where the fuck is Neil?” Max yelled to Nikki, who had begun to brutally beat the tall, muscular kid she had pinned to the ground. Suddenly, the squeaking of rubber filled the air, as Niel sped over in one of the Wood Scout’s golf carts, holding the gun backwards in his hand like a crazy idiot.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here!” he shouted, as Nikki and Max bolted to the cart. The Wood Scouts that could began to chase after them, but it was too late; they had already reached the untouched prairie fields three miles ahead of them.

“Suck a dick losers!” Nikki howled with laughter, standing up in the back seat. “What a bunch of pussies!”

“Calm down Nick,” Max called from shotgun, “our nerd here’s one second from throwing you from the back seat if you don’t sit your ass down.”

“Hey!” Neil shouted, sharply turning to plunge down into one of the lower mountain valleys, “if you have a problem with my driving, why don’t you drive the fucking vehicle?”

“Man come on, they beat the shit out of me yesterday!”

“Hey guys?” Nikki called, crawling to stick her own head between the two boys, “where are we going anyways?”

“Eh, wherever,” Max shrugged, “as long as we stay away from god damn weirdos for a while.”

I’ve been bullied and excluded at school since I can remember, but I still had a few friends. It was only until 7th grade when I realized they were emotionally abusing me. Telling me that everything about me was weird; the way I say, ate, held a pencil, anything. They’d all look at me and laugh one day and then act as if I wasn’t real the next. At sleepovers tell me how worthless I am and then text the group chat I’m in with them about how horrible everything was cause I was there. I’m a joke.
—  Posted by Anonymous

Episode 4: Cara speaks with two survivors of bullying who are working to support victims and educate to prevent bullying.

INFP and INTP friendship

I’m the INFP who sent the INFP – ESFP friendship post http://funkymbtifiction.tumblr.com/post/109771941830/infp-and-esfp-friendship . Now I’d like to tell you about my friendships with INTPs.

External image

(Aélita is INFP, Jérémie is INTP. Great friends and cute couple!)

Average INFP meets average INTP

I happen to be a geek. I love Doctor Who, superheroes, Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter and many things. I met many great INTPs within these fandoms. Also, my own brother is INTP. The most obvious thing about INTP-INFP friendships is what I call the Ne-Si dance. When many INP meet, someone remembers something he/she saw (Si). Someone else makes jokes about a related thing (Ne). Someone else says something related. Soon everyone is making jokes and saying goofy things about the fandom they all know, which can be quite surprising for people who don’t know the fandom or are not Ne users. At family reunions, my brother and I sometimes do the Ne-Si dance in front of everyone else, mostly dominant S people, and they stare and wonder why we suddenly act crazy.

Keep reading

Dear SPN family:

Some of you are receiving anon hate tonight, and I’m so sorry!  You deserve better than that!

But I know some people have had some weak moments tonight, so I want to make sure this information is available.

If you’ve self-harmed/attempted suicide and you’re bleeding:

  • If it is a serious wound, defined as one you cannot treat properly on your own, CALL FOR HELP.  There is no shame in this!
  • Clean the cut with running water. Cold or hot (but not warm) water will slow the bleeding so the blood can begin to clot.
  • Do not try to stitch the wound without professional training. Do not use superglue to seal the wound.  Both approaches will only increase the risk of infection becoming trapped in your wound and/or further injuring yourself.
  • Cover the wound with clean cloth or gauze and apply pressure until the bleeding stops.  Raise the injury above your heart if you can.  If the cloth becomes soaked, do not remove it; just layer new cloth/gauze on top of it.
  • If you can get the bleeding to stop on your own, dress the injury with antibacterial cream/ointment, and then wrap it in a clean bandage.
  • Don’t tell people you’re “fine” or “okay” just so you don’t get into trouble.  If someone has bothered to ask, it means they care.  Please accept their support.
  • If it is a serious wound, defined as one you cannot treat properly on your own, CALL FOR HELP.  There is no shame in this!

If you’ve taken pills to overdose:

  • Follow the instructions in this post.

If you are considering any other means of killing yourself:


Also remember the following important things:

  • You are not obligated to stay on the internet (which I say as a nearly lifetime bullying survivor).  If you’re feeling attacked, walk away from your computer/tablet/phone and go do something else.  Go watch Supernatural reruns.  Do a puzzle.  Build a blanket fort.  Just get away from the hate on the computer.
  • There’s no shame in reaching out for help, whether it’s a shoulder to cry on, a doctor to patch you up, or just someone to talk to.
  • You are loved.

Please be safe, everyone!