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mordo

modro is descbied as cold and blunt and a bit aggesive  he is the top ranked gaurd of the saltwater kindom ,he is currelty a “no water “his marks are fake to show his rank he was often bullied as a child his father and mother[both birthright saltwaters [birthright just means they were born a saltwater intead of having marks] they had still cared for him but never helped with bullying  and alwasys crushed his dreams and evunttly kicked him out at the age of 20 and had to work hard to get where he is toady  since it was desbied as nearly impossible for a no water mermaids to get the top ranked guard he is “freind” with a birthright guard named bubbles he hates and is jealous of [although he will never admit it ][he aslo dosent find out hes gay until his older but when he does he keeps it a secert 

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Fucking hell athiests……-_-

Dear drj6,

I hope that you find God/Jesus/Allah before it is too late!! Thanks for the persecution though!! Just remember, “If I am hated THIS MUCH for simply following and worshipping God, I MUST be doing SOMETHING right!!”–me

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Democracy is gone. Nancy Pelosi has become the dictator of this country. Her minions are encouraging “bullying” of Trump supporters into submission to the lefts way of thinking. The riots and looting on the left were applauded as they martyred a thug! Pelosi honored him with an American flag which is the honor due to an America soldier. They are not the same. He was high on drugs! Did he deserve to die that way, no but there is a lot of video footage that hasn’t been shown by the main stream media outlets that could put a whole new spin on this event. They don’t want you to have the whole story. But… our country would rather honor a thug and defund the police. Who do they call when help is needed at the riots they are supporting?

There is no logic behind their ideology. Now…. they impeach Trump for inciting insurrections even though the president had not even finished his speech when the riot at the capital began. They claim this was premeditated… how did he incite then? Videos have come out of Capital police allowing people beyond the barricades and appear to be encouraging people to storm the capital. So much of this whole thing doesn’t make sense.

The house cannot even make a decision for a stimulus check in less than 6 months, how did they impeach Trump in 7 hours? Did they speak to anyone they arrested in the capital riot? Not one witness stating he caused them to storm the capital. Not one! No witnesses at all! No… because a different story would have played out.

There was voter fraud. I watched with my own eyes. Hell, they called VA blue with only 3% of the precincts reporting. Pollsters were not allowed to view the counting. They plastered cardboard o. The windows. In the middle of the night load of votes arrived for Biden and not one for Trump. There were too many mathematical impossibilities . I don’t need a court to tell me differently.

I was a great American Patriot… but now… i am woke and you cannot uneoke me. I don’t know how to feel about my country anymore. Voting is rigged, you are bullied if you speak out as to your beliefs and even big tech is censoring Trump supporters. There goes the 1st amendment, next they will attack our 2nd.

I do not trust my government to governor effectively anymore. Crooked and traitorous… and that’s the truth as I know it.

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You know. As a kid growing up with really bad inattentive ADHD, and also NVLD, it is a miracle I didn’t come out of all that wayyyyy more messed up than I am rn lol. 

Because truth is, what the other kids at my schools (especially 4th and 6th grade aaaaaa) was really bad

And yeah, I was the teachers’ favorite every year, and I definitely got the perks of having such a title, but that didn’t mean my teachers knew at all how to handle me.

My first grade teacher especially was kind of a mess. I can honestly say I probably spent at least 3/5 of my schoolyear out in the hall. All alone. Sitting at the desk, unable to do my work even there, and sad and miserable. 

But it was the kids who caused me grief. Because dealing with teachers who don’t know how to deal with me is fine. I can understand that. I don’t know how to deal with me, I don’t think anyone does. But the kids around me made my life a lot more difficult and impacted me in a more tangible way, I think. 

I was outcast and made fun of and weird and annoying and they liked to pick on me for my bad grades even though if homework didn’t matter I’d be one of the top kids in class. 

And I didn’t really have friends until 4th grade. There were people I would hang out with and could get along with and that at the time, I would have definitely considered friends, but having had actual, good friends and then comparing them to those fleeting relationships with random kids in my class that I don’t even remember who it was I was friendly with changes how I see it looking back. 

Even before my ADHD became noticeable, and way before I got diagnosed, I was labeled weird and annoying by the other kids surrounding me. 

I had a very toxic relationship with some girls down the street from me up until I ended it in 3rd grade. Even though they were a year younger than me, I loved them like sisters, and I really thought we were really really great friends. I don’t really remember much toxicity before school started for them, but I remember that the 3 of us would always plan to sit next to each other on the bus. But– oh. Oh there’s only room for 2, Luna (no that is not my real name but it’s the one I use online XD ), you’ll have to sit somewhere else. Every. Time. I sat alone. Alone to school, alone back home. And I would ask to sit by them every time, but I rarely got the privilege. And of course I have ADHD, and my good old buddy RSD (rejection sensitive dysphoria) loved to hang out with me in these altercations. So I was very upset and hurt and at that age, that resulted in loud, teary arguments. The type where you’re holding back tears and trying to get your point across without conflict but they just won’t listen to you and so it builds and builds and you feel horrible. And even with all these horrible feelings and (oh. I just realized this is my first case of my very severe complete lack of optimism regarding any prospects of mine) even though I knew I likely would not get to sit with the other girls on the bus, like some sort of loyal puppy, I kept on going, until, as I said earlier. I had enough. I had to cut them out. 

I just realized that was a long paragraph with yeah, sure, a bit of scene-setting to some of my social situations I’ve been in peer-wise, but it actually doesn’t fully match up to my original topic. Imma still leave it there. Honestly this blog is like just a vent-site or something for me lol. But that’s okay because 1.) I do have things I need and want to vent about in regards to my experiences with ADHD (ha I used the blog name), and 2.) The original whole point of this blog was to give an example of my own experiences with it all, because I am always fascinated hearing other’s perspective on the topic, and I thought I’d share mine too. so yeah. What was I doing again? Oh yeah. Saving Grace. Alright. 

My saving grace (and I find it kind of funny but seriously I have good reason to believe this saved me a lot of grief and heartache) was that despite RSD, I absolutely did not care what others thought of me. In fact I made it a point to not care about those things and to just be me. I think this came from being aware of the way that a lot of people even at that age were all about trying to fit in and conforming with the group and I wanted to be unique or something I guess. (Honestly, and my parents could tell you this is very, very true, this was VERY on-brand of me; to see the crowd walking normally one way and just RUN the other in the most strange, purposely-not-what-anyone-else-is-doing way.) And I took what the others would say about me and what they clearly thought of me and how they reacted to me, and I used it to kind of empower me, honestly. 

The other kids think I’m weird? Good. Who said “weird” was a bad thing, anyway. Certainly not me. I want to be weird. That’s a compliment. Thank you, Morgan (made up name). 

(actually wait no I think maybe that was a kid in my grade idk whatever. just an example. Continuing on)

The other kids think I’m annoying? Well. Honestly this one was kind of totally deserving the second time each time a person would tell me this. Like,, I’m sitting in class and I’m fidgeting with my paper as I try to do the classwork because yeah, and the girl next to me tells me to stop and that it’s annoying and that she’s trying to focus? Well now I’m going to absolutely keep on doing it. In fact, tell me again, and I’ll make sure to do it in a more annoying way. 

Actually I did this with humming and talking as I work a lot. Because it helps me to verbalize stuff, and I also have like 3 songs stuck in my head at the same time and they just leak out sometimes (Barney theme song, the Habanera from Carmen, and Fireflies by Owl City is what I’ve got going on right now somebody end my suffering) but the moment a classmate would ca–actually no. I would do my best to stop the first time, and actually now that I think about it, this is true of most of the other stuff too. I’d do my best to stop the first or second time, but by the second time, I’m super annoyed because of course, I need to do this so that I can study. I get needing it to be quiet, I get that. But I’m not actually being that loud, noone else seems to have a problem with it, and I need to do this so that I can get my classwork done so that I only have 20 pages of homework piled up to do at home, thanks. And so if they were determined to have such a big problem with it, I was determined to make it more and more annoying until they either sucked it up and dealt with it, or caused enough of a scene for the teacher to tell us both off. And of course, I’m the teacher’s pet, so it’s not like I’m gonna really get in trouble for anything. (excluding 1st grade teacher who sent me to the hall but she doesn’t count because it’s actually really dangerous to just leave a child of 6 years old completely unattended in an easily-accessible building where anyone could happen upon me and no one would know if there was a problem because all the classroom doors were locked so yeahhh) (nvm I guess I am a bit salty about that teacher after all) but yeah. It was basically a really fun for me and really annoying game for them of who can last the longest. 

My only problem was ever when people outright bullied me, which happened a lot in 4th and 6th grade, but that’s for another time maybe. I’ve finished the point of this post. 

My saving graces were simply not caring what others thought and taking the descriptor “weird” and making it a compliment, and of being super super annoying to people who called me out on stimming and stuff. 


before I leave off, I do want to let you know that I do think I was aware enough of when to actually stop when people told me to. Like there were definitely times where the person really meant it because it was actually being a problem for them and I get that and backed off. It’s just most of the time, the other kids were just marginally annoyed or slightly irritated, but it was in no way stopping them from doing their work and increased the chances of me doing mine. And again, I did try the first couple of times, and if I ever couldn’t actually stop doing the thing, I tried to at least do it in a less disruptive way, like if I was talking myself through a math problem or something, and someone told me to shut up, I’d lower my voice ‘till I was just breathing the words out. 

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Life As An Intuitive AND Mentally Ill

I come from a family of intuitives and most of us are well-rounded or are seen normal. I think out of all of us, it’s just me and my mother deal with mental illness.

Life is easy at first.

As a kid growing up, I dealt with a learning disability. Back then girls weren’t diagnosed with things like autism. But I saw and spoke to dead animals and dead people. They looked like you and I and when I heard them it was like a thought that wasn’t mine. It didn’t bother me and when I told my mother of these things she wouldn’t disbelieve me. She would casually tell me who I was talking to or seeing and we’d move on. I would get feelings about things that would happen enough to not call it all just coincidence and I believe in coincidences, and science so imagine the struggle.

I begun getting bullied.

This happened when I was 8. I wasn’t really effected or bothered by it until we moved from CT. I was socially awkward and when I learned what I saw and heard wasn’t real, I didn’t want it to happen anymore. I was being bullied for so many reasons, I didn’t want to further my reputation as a circus act.

So my abilities became dormant for a few short years.

I began having mood swings but I was mostly depressed. My intuition made me anxious. Mostly about finding some guy who I knew didn’t live out of the country but within it and not living in Florida. I at first thought I had to go back to Connecticut but I felt it was wrong. It had to be south. I aimed south even though I wanted to go back to CT so very bad. Started with NJ and all the way across to Southern California by the time I was 20.

Every once in a while I would see things and they happened. I couldn’t find answers that made any sense to me. So again I got so scared and it would go away for another while. I was in high school when I started looking into esoteric and tarot cards to find out what was happening to me.

I gave up esoterics and took antidepressants.

Deep in my heart I believed in my experiences. However I made myself think it was all hallucinations and saw a dr. I was eventually put on trazadone, zoloft, Prozac and Depakote. My experiences still happened. I knew that it was over between me and Erik but I didn’t want to believe he died. I rather have thought maybe the link was finally cut so that I could be happy but I was just as miserable and the meds helped as a bandaid for bipolar type 2 symptoms.

From time to time I’d notice that feeling of needing to find Erik was gone since his death. It felt nice. I didn’t feel nervous or hurried to plow through online communities. I was a member of so many clubs and forums. I didn’t feel the need to return to them either. Slowly I deleted my profiles and tried to keep with the appesrence of “growing up”.

Without my meds, I’m not intuitive.

Reading through my journals, I noticed where I reported or recalled supernatural things happening, it was only while I was medicated. Actually just almost a year ago, I was without my meds for about a month and I reported here also that I can see a huge difference. I have no concentration, I can’t sit still or think straight so even work was very difficult. By now I’ve been on nearly 20 different medications at varying doses. It was strange to feel “normal” not hearing my guides from not being medicated but feel like I’m insane being off it at the same time. If that makes any sense.

Not being on my meds is a special kind of hell;

I can’t control my body with the involuntary jerking and dropping things (I’m already clumsy), memory goes to shit, I studder, I get extremely tired, forget how to speak English and failing to remember everyday words. I talk very slow and even if I was excited, you couldn’t tell. Can’t tolerate light and any kind of scraping sound and more sensitive to smells.

Here, we got all kinds of oils and incense to burn because I need plant-based smells like flowers and kinds of wood. I like fruits and laundry scents but they aren’t my favorite. I don’t like candles that smell like food because I’m a stoner and that’s just wrong. That’s a different kind of hell and self punishment.

For many of us who are intuitive and dealing with mental health issues…

Its very hard. I have to learn not to overanalyze or try so hard to understand what doesn’t have a scientific explanation. I mean, I still can’t understand how a random object flew across me in my room straight to my door. I can’t explain how I can see or sense the future and it happens. I can easily say they are hallucinations but they came true. So calling them all coincidental hallucinations sounds more ridiculous than it already sounds.

I have to balance what I feel in my heart with my head and moreover I really need to feel my heart more and stop trying to logic every single thing and have faith!

To a degree I may be mentally ill but I know exactly what the fuck I see, I don’t bullshit. I realize that people will use my illnesses against me. Well Jesus was prosecuted by his own people. Not claiming to be Jesus but just saying. Who wants to be Jesus anyway? That’s way too much work. I ain’t got to time for that, I need to keep my nails and hair good. Lol 😆😆 Getting in the hot sun, get awkward tans and skin cancer, no thank you!

My flowery ass is inside enjoying the a/c and my weed

–Thank you very much!

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I feel like nobody actually loves me but it’s cool it’s whatever

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16.01.20. The Independent:

“Knife crime hits 10-year high, figures reveal.”

Needless to say, Priti –I’m A Bully- Patel, said she found this “appalling” and promised that a new tough approach would mean thugs “going down" if they were caught with a knife in their possession.

Hard words from a hard-right politician.

The truth is somewhat different. Nine months after Patel expressed outrage and promised to come down hard on knife wielding criminals we had this headline.

17.09.20. Evening Standard:

“Priti Patel has not called a meeting with knife crime task force for more than a year despite surge in stabbings.“

This led one politician to accuse the government of "being out of ideas” and Priti Patel “desperately” needing to “get a grip”.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t listening. Rather than tackle the problem Bully Patel’s continuing incompetence has made things worse.

15.01.21. Evening Standard:

           “150,000, arrest records wiped from police databases in major blunder”

DNA, fingerprint and arrest records have been deleted, which could allow criminals to go free because evidence from crime scenes will no longer be on the Police National Computer. This is a “serious security breach” for which Priti Patel, as Home Secretary, is responsible.

WE DESERVE BETTER

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People need to stop being mean or bullying people online like I don’t understand why would you ever purposely want to hurt someone especially for no reason???

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Surviving Wikipedia Grinchs


Ra’al Ki Victorieux

After receiving bullying and censorship on Wikipedia, I have written this article to give tips to those who wish to participate in “free” online collaboration projects, such as those of the Wikimedia Foundation.

During November I participated in the Asia Month on Wikipedia, I was bullied during the process. I related my experience with an article that I published on December…


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“Dear Victim,

I have lied to you about nearly everything. I am not sorry for this behavior because I cannot empathize with you. I chose narcissism so early in my life that I never had the chance to develop a conscience or the capacity to feel remorse or empathy for anyone. Still, I know it’s wrong on an intellectual level. But I can’t feel your pain. Sometimes I wish I could, but I can’t.


I became a narcissist because, as a child, I felt too vulnerable. I was sensitive and I felt too much and most of it was painful. I was made to feel like I was nothing, a nobody. I was hurt, betrayed, abused. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t loved, or why I was treated with contempt and like I didn’t matter. I was also never given a good example of how to become a good person. I never had anyone to model in a positive way.


Life was so painful for me I had to do something about it. Something drastic. I had to become strong and never show weakness again because my weakness was killing me. I was made to believe that being a sensitive person, who feels compassion and remorse, a person who can love others, is weak. I know that isn’t really true, but it was how I saw it. I was so young that I couldn’t see how wrong that was.


I reached a point where I had to make a choice. In order to survive, I had to sacrifice my own humanity. I didn’t want to do it, but I felt like I had to, in order to survive. I didn’t want to be hurt anymore. I had to sell my soul.


In order to sell my soul, I had to keep everyone out of my mind and heart. I couldn’t allow myself to feel too much anymore. I couldn’t allow myself to be sensitive. And that meant I could no longer allow myself to love anyone, feel anyone else’s pain or joy, or feel sorry, even when I did something wrong.


I had to keep this mask that I wear, which is a lie. In order to keep the lie intact, I had to treat others badly. I had to diminish you to prop my false self up. I had to hate you in order to “love” the mask that I show the world. Because if I didn’t continually prop myself up by making you feel bad, my mask of lies might fall off and expose the real me, a powerless, vulnerable, and very scared human being.


I am a bully but inside I know I am nothing. I act as if I love myself but I really hate myself. I only love the mask I wear. I abuse others to protect that mask.
You can never get through to my true self because the lies I tell are nearly impenetrable. I have lied so often and for so long that I myself have come to believe my own lies.


I will never let you get close to what I really feel. I don’t even know what I feel anymore. Most of the time I feel nothing because a lie has no feelings. But try to destroy my protective armor, and I will try to destroy you. If I must go down in flames, I am going to take you with me. I will rage and abuse you. I will gaslight you and tell you the most horrific lies about yourself.


I may seem nice at first or when I feel like the attention you give me is threatened and you may leave. And I abuse you to know if you will.


I know how to get others to trust me – by acting like a nice person. I am good at acting like a nice person but I can’t feel a nice person’s emotions. It’s hard work to act nice because that’s a lie too.


When you begin to trust me, I will start abusing you again, because I must keep you at arm’s length and keep my mask of lies intact at all costs. Both the niceness I show you and the asshole I become are both lies. I cannot even access who I really am. I have forgotten. I just know that my true self is there, somewhere, and I can never, ever, let anyone see it.


If you mirror back to me too much of the truth about me, if I become aware that you know this mask I always wear is a fake, I will attempt to destroy you or cut you out of my life. I cannot afford to have the truth about myself revealed to me.
Nothing terrifies me more than facing the truth about myself, so I have dissociated myself from it. It scares me so much to realize how evil I have become. It hurts me so much that I had to choose this fake self because of what was done to me.


I hate being evil. I really don’t want to be this way but I will never, ever admit that. I cannot ever show you or anyone in the world how weak and vulnerable I really am. But deep inside, I know I am.


I am still an infant. I never grew up. My emotional and moral development was arrested when I was just a very young child, so I only have the emotional maturity of a child at that age. That’s why I can’t care about anyone but myself. It’s why I must always have my way. Can a two or three-year-old care about your feelings? Of course, they can’t, and like a toddler, I can’t either. I am like a mentally challenged person, only my disability isn’t mental, it’s emotional and moral. I AM EMOTIONALLY RETARDED!


It’s hard work keeping up my false self. I am paranoid and defensive all the time that I will be discovered and exposed. It’s enormously stressful to be a narcissist. It’s stressful and often painful, and I know I have sacrificed the ability to ever feel real happiness in order to never be hurt again.


But still, I can be hurt very easily. The only way I dare show my hurt is by projecting it back onto you through my abuse and through my rages. I’m a bully because I always feel so much hurt.


As I age, I may try to soften a little but I won’t. I will probably get worse. Don’t wait for me to change because I never will. Once I chose this life, there was no going back. I chose darkness and once that’s done, there is no going back to the light. I sold my soul and there’s no way to buy it back but through the grace of God himself. And I don’t believe in God.


If you care about yourself (because I can never care about you), you must forget me. Don’t play my games. Ignore me and act like I don’t exist. Being treated like I don’t exist is the worst thing I can imagine, but if you care about your own survival it’s what you must do. I will destroy you if you don’t.


There’s a very small chance that your act of abandoning me and taking away the supply I get from you could make me take a look in the mirror for the first time, at the lost child I left behind so long ago. If that happens, I will be in so much pain I may seek the help I need. But don’t count on it though. Even if I ever seek help, once I start feeling too much pain, I will leave counseling. 

Feeling that pain is too terrifying. It’s easier to abuse my own mind (and yours) by keeping up the masks and lies.


Don’t wait for me to change, because I won’t. Don’t play my games. Even if I rage, hold your ground. You’re stronger than I am. I will never let you know I know this. Don’t fall for my lies!


Keep your soul intact. Don’t allow me to turn you into a shell of what you used to be or worse, a person like me, even though it’s what I want. I am evil, and knowing you can become evil makes me feel better, makes my abuse worth it. But it also makes me feel worse because I know that is evil.”

— The Narcissist

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Of course! 💜

I do wonder if we’d really lose any Bakugo fans though, if the ableism were 100% truthful to real life as opposed to a metaphor. Because it’s a pretty on the nose metaphor. The entire human population is now born with a particular, physical trait and if you fail to develop that trait “normally” — or don’t develop it at all  — then you’re ostracized from society, either subtly (it’s harder for you to get certain jobs) or much more obviously (the school bully gets your whole class to laugh at you). Insert “quirk” for any physical trait in our real lives  — the ability to walk, the ability to hear, the ability to see, etc.  — and it’s a near 1 to 1 comparison in regards to supposedly “lacking” something. Granted, quirks are a bit more complicated in regards to their breadth, but even that can be read as a metaphor for baseline “normalcy.” Inko’s ability to move small objects doesn’t give her a major advantage in life, but its existence ensures that a lack of a quirk never hurts her either, similar to how my build means I don’t really have a shot at the Olympics, but the fact that I have two working legs means I won’t be discriminated against for not being able to walk. 

So there’s a lot of discussion surrounding how well (or not) the story grapples with this metaphor. Whether, for example, it’s a problem that Izuku’s minority status is instantly “fixed” via All Might’s quirk, or whether we should read the passing of this quirk more like an assistive device. That’s a whole other, complicated conversation though. The takeaway for now is that the conversation exists and I think the majority of the fandom is at least somewhat aware of it. Even if we’re not versed in disability rhetoric, we understand the foundational concept of Izuku as an Other who is pitted against the rest of “normal” society. Our very first line of the series is “People… are not born equal” and Bakugo feeds that distinction in the worst way. Some aspects of how BNHA engages with disability may be subtle, but Bakugo absolutely is not. From beating up on Izuku for being a “quirkless wonder [playing] at hero,” to telling him to jump off the roof, Bakugo’s entire character revolves around how he considers himself not just superior for being “normal,” but also extraordinary due to privileges outside of his control. These issues are front and center… yet fans still love him, defend him, etc. I’m not sure the metaphor is hidden enough to assume that if “quirk” were replaced with a real life minority status, that fans would suddenly view Bakugo differently. Just because his flaw is already so incredibly prominent and its meaning already easy to grasp. It’s meant to be that way. 

As always, I want to re-iterate that there’s nothing wrong with liking a character  — they’re a character, they’re fictional, they exist to entertain us  — but in some respects those who really intensely defend Bakugo represent the very issues BNHA is (at times clumsily) trying to address. We wouldn’t have Bakugo stans if he tormented Izuku for being fat, gay, trans, etc.? Sure we would! Because those people already exist. They’re every privileged bully whose friends laugh along with their “jokes.” They’re the young employee who got there thanks to money and family connections, but who we praise for how talented they are. They’re the criminal who has committed the most heinous deeds, but who is let off with a light sentence because it was just a “mistake” and “they have their whole life ahead of them.” Bakugo represents people who already exist across the world and we excuse, justify, or even uphold them all the time. Though (as said) this is complicated by his existence as an enjoyable, fictional character, I still think there’s something significant in the fandom’s knee-jerk desire to defend the non-black, (so far) non-queer, (fantasy) able-bodied, good looking, talented guy with a bit of a sad backstory. We already have a problem of going out of our way to excuse people with those privileges, so why would that change when the person is fictional? The awful truth is that a situation where one kid terrorizes another for not being “normal,” gets away with that for years, has teachers who never step in, gets into a prestigious school despite their behavior, never has their prospects threatened because of how they treat others… that’s common. I personally think we’d still have plenty of Bakugo stans because the act of excusing that kind of behavior is already something that happens in everyday life.  

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daily reminder that ‘playful teasing banter’ isn’t teasing if it makes you feel bad for who you are. you have every right to say that you don’t appreciate it.

and if they say you’re overreacting, inform them that they are a dickstick for hurting your feelings and blaming you for it :)

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Walking Home

This is just a sort of heavy drabble that technically takes place in the crossover au I have with @victoryroadburnout. It also is the formal introduction of a character that I have been hesitant to reveal due to the personal nature of their story. She is Becca’s foil, and a real piece of work. Be warned… No Culture or Isle Unto Thyself fans may see her as comparable to a certain parasitic plant. 

Also, please tell me what you think, as this is something I am very nervous about sharing… I have been sitting on this for months…I try not to upset people, but I decided maybe that’s what I need to do to be a better creator…  Who knows, maybe this could be the start of me actually making content worth looking at? Anyway, enjoy. 

WARNING: This is based upon my real experiences with emotional and psychological abuse in my childhood. I spent a while digging into repressed memories to try and make it as accurate as possible to what I went through. I think it is important that these things be shown in media so victims can recognize they’re being abused, even if it isn’t in the steal your lunch money or drunk dad fashion most media portrays abuse/bullying as. If you are triggered by gaslighting, verbal abuse, or mentions of suicide, DO NOT READ THIS. 

Keep reading

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In my early years of childhood, I lived a very sheltered life, knowing nothing more than the walls of my home. I was a small child, and I had severe separation anxiety at the time, so I would rarely ever leave my parents, and I almost never left home because of my physical handicap. I had no friends and knew not how to socialize, having no experience at all.

This was how it was in my very early years of childhood. I didn’t know there was a world beyond my home. It was my first day of school and the first time I fully realized what my handicap meant. The day started as any other normally would, until noon rolled around.

My mom and I got ready for my first trip to school. This was first experience with a place away from my home and my parents. I didn’t know what to expect. It was as if I was venturing into empty space, going into the unknown. I had my mother to hang on to for comfort, a beacon of light in this scary new place called “school.” I got to school with no trouble, but the walk to school had been the furthest walk I had been on since I was born. I was taken into the room that I would be in with my kindergarten class. I was afraid of all the people and adults. The teacher was an authority figure and that frightened me.

I was just getting comfortable with my new surroundings when my mother had to leave. I still had a very bad case of separation anxiety, so at the slightest inkling that my mother was leaving, I burst into tears and clung to her for my life. Only with great reassurance from my mother and kindergarten teacher would I let my grip go from my mother’s loving company and care. Half an hour later, my mother had left and I still missed her.

We were introduced to the classroom environment and all of its pleasures and then it was time for recess. I was anxious to make friends but I didn’t know how to, so I just wandered aimlessly. I was lost, unable to think of how to start, or even where to start. I just kept wandering around. It was something about my physical handicap that was new and interesting to my kindergarten classmates.

As I was wandering, I noticed that they were all staring at me and whispering to each other as I walked by. I knew I walked differently because of my handicap and the attention I was getting because of it made me uncomfortable, so I decided to try and hide it by sitting on a window ledge and not walking at all. Nobody came to talk to me; I was alone, until one kid, amused by my disability, started in imitate my clumsy walk. The other kids, thinking this was funny, started laughing and pointing at me. I ran away afraid. As I was running I was tripped, and I hit the ground hard.

This action took the laughter to an even higher level; I had never been more frightened in all my life. All the noise drew in an even greater crowd of children, most of them on the ground rolling with laughter. I didn’t want them to laugh at me; I was scared and afraid, and my heart was beating. It took all my strength to prevent myself from crying.

When the bell rang and they all ran into line, I got up dusting myself off. The teacher had trouble organizing the children, as they were still excited by the novelty of my cerebral palsy. I still saw most of them staring down at my legs, so I didn’t venture back inside until the teacher came out to get me.

This was just the beginning; when gym class came around I couldn’t play football or soccer with the other children. I couldn’t play and the other children would always wonder why. They would ask me, but I was to ashamed to answer them so other kids would give the reply, “He’s crippled.”

The children were curious and wanted to have look at my feet and the plastic casts that kept them in place. Day after day, people would walk up to me and I would hide my legs, but the children would force me to show them my legs no matter how strong my protest. The children would look at my legs with interest and touch my feet as if they had a life of their own. The children would look at my legs and at me like I was a monster, a freak, until the teacher would come around. Then they would dash back to whatever they where doing at the time.

It went on like this for a few years. Everyday I would feel hurt in my heart on the bus ride home. I was marginalized, pushed to the side in one form or another. My parents sent me to daycare, and I didn’t have any real friends ‘til a couple of years of this misery had passed.

I had gained a huge capacity for perseverance from my torture in the very beginning. I had grown attached to my father and mother, never once taking for granted any of the loving warmth that they would give me as I came home every day. And every morning, I would wake up, get ready for school, put on my casts and see my handicap. I had to suffer the unfairness that life had granted me at birth, whether I liked it or not.

Eventually, my handicap didn’t interest many people anymore. It was just like another boy’s red hair or blue eyes. I had learned to accept my difference and to deal with it. I realized that there are some things in life you have to accept. I realized that I had to persevere, to not give up, because the thought of living my life in a wheelchair made me shudder. I had to think positively and not worry about all the misery of my life. It was critical to my own mental health. I feel like I have a duty to be nice and to be kind, so as not to be any lonelier than my handicap has already made me. I developed a hate for charity and pity, and I realized early on in my life that I shouldn’t let my handicap cause people to treat me differently or I’ll never get anywhere in life. The strong survive and the weak perish. I had to push myself and not let my handicap stop me from anything, otherwise I would just end up 70 years old, living in a retirement home, with nothing to show for my life.

I push myself every day, determined to prove the fact that I can do everything by myself, and that I can do anything I set my mind to. My every thought, my every action, has been directed towards that singular purpose. I do this so that one day I can face my fellow peers and feel truly accepted and equal.

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Date Documented: 1/15/2021

Recipient: Public post, directed at shippers

Sender: isbottomcestvalid

Content: Gen Nastiness, Ableism, Bullying, Victim-Blaming

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Just A Pen & Paper - 5. try socializing again (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/1009516977-just-a-pen-paper-5-try-socializing-again?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=rayvenwrote&wp_originator=NjyMJHGTdOd3MuwA6htYA3cHEHatsIDwo5UMyImjLIgmzHjzh01VhDLJfxDIcOni%2FLBxCjo%2FPNTj7Gh0pGZNC71G3rxP14Ckj19yFTw9q8zUPpqNXgm%2BYYefCX6gg2sn ❝ Right, it’s therapy. I doubt writing could serve as any form of therapy. In your case anyway, it’s an addiction.❞ Grayson argued, accompanied by an eyeroll and scoff. Luna snapped back, voice softening at the end.❝ Stop, it. You know this is my life. It helps me feel calm and at peace with myself.❞ ❝ I can’t help but take you as a joke when you’re like this. I love you, but really Luna? What’s so hard about leaving it alone; what’s so addicting?❞ Grayson was trying to understand where Luna was coming from, but he didn’t realize how his word were slicing until it was too late. Until the damage was done, the blood was dripping, and the wound was lethal. ❝It’s just a pen and a paper.❞ ━━━ Ever since Luna was a little girl, she’d always dreamed of being a writer. Her parents saw her passion in writing and decided it’d be best to help her pursue it. But although they didn’t say anything to her, they voiced their concerns to her doctor about how she didn’t socialize, but wrote books instead. They decided it’d be good to try to pull her away from writing, get her to do something else with her life. So, it wasn’t any surprise that they were upset when they saw her doing the thing they had kept her from, for so many years. They made her start visiting a therapy group where she could just feel, instead of turning to a book as her only confidant. But unlike what Luna expected, there’s a guy named Grayson there who actually acknowledges that he needs help, and he doesn’t snap whenever someone tells him so, unlike some people… But when they get to know each other, Grayson discovers the unusual addiction she has, the “weird” reason she’s there. But even so, he reminds himself to never underestimate others problems and issues, because he hates when others do that to his own.

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The Cold, Hard Truth About Bystanders

The Cold, Hard Truth About Bystanders

You not only never forget the bullies, but you also remember the people who were there- the people who had the power to help you but did nothing. Many times, the bystanders who saw it never tried to intervene and stop the attacks, nor did they speak up on my behalf.
As much as I hate to say it, I was guilty of the same thing. When I watched a few others get bullied, I said and did nothing,…


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