Draco is online

Pansy: One, just one drink.

Draco: Pansy this is ridiculous, I’m turning myself into a fool for your pleasure.

Pansy: You’re a fun drunk! Please, it’s Zabini’s birthday come on!

Draco: Not happening.

Pansy: Is this because Potter’s here?

Draco: He’s here? Why? We hate him! Dammit, pass the damn firewhiskey.

Many drinks later…

Draco: For the record… I blame Pansy.

Draco is very much drunk and online, feel free to send an ask hijack or honestly whatever. Regardless, I doubt he’ll remember it tomorrow.

(OOC: all four of these gifs look v different… oops)

anonymous asked:

Hi. Sorry to bother. I was looking for a fic where Dan goes to buy milk(?) and got in a accident. Then he stays in coma for a while and everybody thinks he is not gonna make it? Then he wakes up but struggles to do simple things. I look through all the tags I thought this could be in and I couldn't find it. Sorry if it's vouge. Thank you for your help

Losing Everything and Falling in Love - After arguing between who should go buy milk, Dan finally gives in and heads out. It’s not until after 40 minutes that he’s out, that Phil receives a call from the hospital saying his best friend is in a coma. Phil has to go through the struggle of possibly losing his best friend and then helping him recover as he falls desperately in love.

-rachel

Anchor [Stiles Stilinski x Reader]

Request: you and stiles are best friends. And he is in love with you. But nobody knows that. And you’ve recently been turned ever since you almost died. Scott bit you. One day my class the teacher was yelling at you for not doing an assignment in front of the class. And you couldn’t control your anger. Stiles saw you clawing from under neath the desk. You ran out with stiles following after you. And you shift in the locker room. Stiles calms you down. And you realize he’s your anchor.

Warnings: none

Originally posted by lovemusiclifexx

(Y/N) (L/N) was panicking, you were a werewolf now. You knew about the whole supernatural business but you were like Stiles, a human. That was until you almost got killed in a car accident. You were in a critical condition, with internal hemorrhaging in your chest. The doctors couldn’t do anything to save you because the chance of you dying on the operating table was higher than trying to suction the blood out of lungs while you were awake. Still, that didn’t work and you were left to die, the doctors not finding a solution for your situation. The pack didn’t know that you were going to die, you didn’t want them acting like you were easily breakable. One day, you were alone with Scott, telling him that you were going to be okay, that you would survive. You had forgotten that Scott was a werewolf and that he could hear you lie.

“(Y/N), tell me the truth, are you dying?” he asked with a broken look in his eyes. At this sight, your heart shattered.

“I think you know the answer Scott.” You smiled sadly.

“I- We can’t lose you (Y/N), you’re the beating heart of this pack.” His eyes were welling up.

“Well, I would be glad to live. But, there is nothing that can save now out elevating the risk of my death.”

Then, Scott had an idea that would save your life, “What if I bit you?” he asked, “Would that save your life?”

“Probably,” you replied, “unless I reject the bite. But, if I’m gonna die anyway, I might as well try.”

“Are you sure?” you nodded, “I really hope this works.”

“Me too.”

So, in the last hope of saving your life, Scott’s eyes turned red, his nails grew in to claws and his now werewolf teeth sunk into your arm. You almost yelled in pain but slapped a hand over your mouth to avoid catching the attention of nurses. Then, the pain in your arm burned and you blacked out.

“It must be a miracle,” you heard the voice of your doctor say to your parents, “your daughter has somehow made a full recovery and all the blood in her lungs has disappeared. We just need you to sign this sheet and you can take you daughter home.”

You opened your eyes and saw blurrily that your parents were hugging each other and crying tears of joy. They signed the sheet and looked at you.

“How are you doing honey?” your mother asked with a sweet smile on her face.

“Okay mom,” you rasped, “I don’t feel any more pain.” You beamed

“The doctor says that you’re going to be able to go home, all the hemorrhaging is gone. Go get your stuff.” He told softly.

Both your parents hugged you hard before leaving you to change into your normal clothes. It had worked, Scott had saved you. You were a werewolf now. When you were done, you left the hospital with your parents glad to leave that god-awful place.

It had been a week since you had come back home and today was the day the doctor had cleared you for school. The whole pack had come by to see you, especially you best friend, Stiles. He was the only one who didn’t know you were a werewolf because you felt like he would treat you differently. You love seeing them but seeing them at school made you feel that everything was normal again, that you hadn’t seen death in the face.

You entered the school at saw a sign hanging from the wall, in big red letters was written ‘Welcome Back (Y/N)!’ It was heart-warming that the school cared so much about their students. Throughout the day, you had gotten pats on the back accompanied by “we missed you” or “glad you’re doing well” and other sweet stuff. It made you a bit disappointed in humanity because you knew that half of these sentences were devoid of feelings. You realized this when people who didn’t know you existed a few weeks ago talked to you for the first time. Finally, it was time for the last class of the day with a teacher that absolutely hated you. You sat in your normal seat next to Stiles.

“Okay students, the assignment given to two weeks ago is due today. I hope that you are ready to go in front of the class, starting with…” she scanned the room and her eyes landed in you, “(L/N).”

“Excuse me Miss but (Y/N) was in the hospital for the past month and a half.” Stiles objected, hoping to protect you.

“Shut up Stilinski, I didn’t ask you anything, did I? And, anyway, I expect that (Y/N) has caught up by now. Right (Y/N)?” she raised her eyebrows at you. You kept your head down, starting to get mad at the woman condescending you right now.

“(L/N)! I counted on you to do your work!” she exclaimed, “being in a car accident does not give you a free pass.” Your claws started growing, gripping the table, and your eyes started flickering gold. Stiles noticed and his eyes widened.

“You are not a privileged! You have to work just as hard as we do! You do not get the right to not do your homework because you almost died!” she continued. That was the last straw, you couldn’t take it anymore and ran to the locker rooms, not wanting to change in front of the whole class. Stiles ran after you hoping to be able to calm you down.

You had fully changed when Stiles arrived in the bathroom. And, when you saw him you yelled at him, “Get out Stiles, I don’t want to hurt you!”

He didn’t move, “You’re not going to hurt me (Y/N).” He stepped closer to you, “You know why, because I love you and I know that you are not going to hurt me.”

“Y-you love me?” you said, the claws slowly receding and your eyes returning to their normal color.

“Yes, (Y/N), I love you. And I understand if you don’t want to be friends anymore.” He told you with a sad look in his eyes.

“I don’t want to be your friend anymore,” his looked to the ground, heartbroken, “I want to be your girlfriend.”

His face lit up and he grinned crazily, “Really?”

“Dude, you’re my anchor and I have had an enormous crush on you for ages.” You laughed.

Overjoyed, Stiles wrapped you in his arms and kissed your forehead, “So, why didn’t you tell me you were a werewolf?” he asked.

“Ooooh, riiight, yeah… Um, I thought that you would treat me differently when you found out.” You chuckled nervously.

“Well, you’re right but it’s not because you’re a werewolf it’s just instead of saying “(Y/N) my friend”, I’ll say (Y/N) my girlfriend.” You both smiled at each other and Stiles pecked your lips, “come on, we should go.”

I think one of the biggest things I’ve grown to hate, is how non-traumatized people think traumatized folks are all timid little “fuck ups” who can’t defend ourselves. That we’re just whining, and only use our triggers and trauma as “excuses” to why we act the way we do.

Yes, some trauma and abuse survivors fit that stereotype of being very oversensitive, very timid and quiet, who cry a lot, and are easy to trigger because of all they’ve been through. And they’re just as strong and beautiful as the rest of us. They deserve so much needed respect.

But don’t dare fucking infantilitize us. Timid or not.

- Multiple survivors of abuse and near death can be like this:


• Cry often
• Have a need to justify emotions without anyone asking or demanding
• Shake 24/7
• Use a very soft voice and little mannerisms
• Act “"feminine”“ (this is blatant misogyny as well, since it codes nervous or "small” behavior as girly)
• Apologize CONSTANTLY
• Never talk about feelings in fear of opposite person becoming upset
• Always denying their wants and needs because they’ll “feel like a burden” or “will bother you”
• Need to rely on reassurance of friends that they don’t hate them, don’t want to hurt them, don’t want to leave them
• Have multiple panic attacks daily or weekly
• Are very “clingy” or “attached” to those who treat them with decency (this is because decency feels foreign, to be treated nicely is euphorically new every time)
• Have HORRIBLE self esteem or body image etc
• Have multiple triggers
• Are very stay-at-home/“hermits”
• Anti social as fuck
• Are scared to voice opinions or even facts in fear of being called wrong and being insulted
• Repress emotion and blow up as a result
• Try to be as nice as possible at own expenses to the point of mental breakdown
• Frequent need for sleep or breaks
• Feel very invalid no matter the efforts of reassurance from others

- But never look past those of us who also are like this as well:


• Act defensive at even the slightest “threat” (even at just being questioned because we think you’re trying to gaslight or degrade us)
• are often angry and jumpy
• Have chronic angry face/angry mood
• Panic at the slightest loud sound or certain words and get upset openly or loudly
• Have VERY FREQUENT “mood swings” (this especially applies to those of us who developed DID/dissociative disorders and alters, from abuse)
• Are very reserved or “rude”
• Have a need to be “right” or be valid
• Aggressively emotional
• Very straightforward with no hesitation since many of us feel sick of being in fear of talking and being expressive
• Quiet and judgmental
• Very snippy, very demanding, very easy to upset or anger
• Feel like they’re festering inside themselves
• Seem unable to get over trauma in a way that sounds like an elder unable to stop reliving old tales
• Are VERY pessimistic and “expect failure”
• Feel anger and intense self hatred at being incorrect or messing up
• Beating selves up constantly (talking badly to oneself, self harm)
• Very attached to certain things and will lash out if they’re disturbed or insulted
• Lash out often


And there’s always those who are mixtures of each side (myself included)! Its not simple! Know this.

We’re all hurt, angry, reliving memories and have many underlying issues within us due to trauma. Don’t think we can’t use this. Don’t underestimate survivors, for fuck sake. Its rude, its fucked up.

PTSD and C-PTSD are something so much more than “I have mood swings and I’m triggered wahhh”. Its so much more than what NTs say about it.

Don’t baby survivors. We’ve seen and felt enough. Please respect and try to understand us. Its all we ask.

Born without armor
Born without any notion to keep myself safe
Six years old, nothing left of my fragile skin
Steel and titanium stretched over my entire existence: my bones, my heart, my soul
Kept me together so no one would ever hurt me again
But I couldn’t shed my armor even after battle
No matter how hard I tried
It had become my skin
Nineteen years old, covered in armor
Always cautious of everyone around me
Cannot be touched
This protective suit I wear is much too heavy
But I cannot take it off
No, no, no.
—  Beware, I come armored