#getting that daily reminder that trauma is actually a thing for us oops

[crippy-tangerine]

-> We are kind of imploding right now excuse us-! This is basically just a ramble/vent about personal medical stuff (diagnoses/misdiagnoses, ableism, trauma, etc.). Feel free to skip this 👍 (/genuine).

Not to sound like we are in denial about being diagnosed with FND, but the way we’ve been diagnosed with it just feels like a dismissal of our physical issues that we categorically could not be consciously/subconsciously creating (which is what we’ve been told we are doing, and is why we “have FND”, allegedly). Like the hypermobility issues we have always had, the gastrointestinal issues and diagnosed malabsorption issues that we’ve had since we were 6, and the chronic pain and fatigue that we frankly refuse to even consider we somehow “fabricated” (which is so shitty to even have said to us but whatever).

No amount of “subconscious” creating of symptoms would make us able to keep up gastrointestinal symptoms for that long beforehand (we allegedly got FND when we were 16 because that’s when we noted our pain levels getting worse, which is such bullshit because it was such a throwaway sentence in our notes and now we have this massive diagnosis based on it, which ignores everything fucking else, but ok!!), or make our joints overly flexible so we can lift our feet to the top of our head or pop our shoulders out of their sockets at command, but again, whatever, the people who’ve known us for 30 minutes obviously know better!! (/heavy sarcasm, but also /not exaggerating- the guy who saw us literally read a summary of a few of our symptoms, checked our reflexes and went “yep it’s FND, ok, that’ll be almost a month’s worth of your money please!” like oh….. fuck you, actually.?).

And yet- we have been officially diagnosed with FND today, it’s on paper. And that makes us (me?) so ridiculously angry, because the process of earning this diagnosis has been a series of medical traumas, dismissals and frankly a lot of ableism. At this point, genuinely do not care for the input of anybody other than us on the subject of our physical health. Or mental health actually. Any aspect of our health. Just feel so dehumanised all the time (we have had alters born from specifically that feeling because it’s been so fucking extensive). We have been poked at and prodded, mentally and physically, on almost a weekly basis for the last five years. We are so, so tired. Absolutely fed up. Unfortunately we do not have the privilege of being able to survive without medical-system supports in place though. So all we can do is just,, engage on a surface level and refuse to give any extra information than we are required to. Except we will have to give extra information literally tomorrow if we want any actual help for our physical health (that we apparently should just “do CBT” for (if he had bothered to ask anything about us he would know we have had around 4 different courses of that therapy, and it makes us even more unhinged because apparently nobody knows anything about autism????)). Actually going to become an eldritch horror over this.??

We have many choice words about the medical system here, and how it functions in general, so you can imagine that our words are even less kind for how they treat disabled people… 🙃.

Just frustrated and livid at everyone in the medical system even if they’ve not personally wronged us,, because hahahah trauma!!! (We are aware not everyone who works in medical care here is evil incarnate we just cannot afford to give people the benefit of the doubt anymore.)

*screams in “unable to advocate for ourself and nobody else knows enough about us to do it for us”*- like we type real well on here because we have the time to draft, edit, rewrite 5 times, reword again and then finally post a semi-formed thought?? In person there’s this pressure to give responses in a matter of seconds or you’re told you’re being difficult/slow/whatever else people want to throw in your medical chart to hang over you for the literal rest of your life.??? Just. GRRRRR. Going to try and write something up semi-formally tonight before we explode all over the place like a rage-balloon.???

[halfblood-princes-crown]

I posted 2,690 times in 2022

That's 2,690 more posts than 2021!

1,258 posts created (47%)

1,432 posts reblogged (53%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

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@inthetags

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I tagged 1,908 of my posts in 2022

Only 29% of my posts had no tags

#severus snape - 551 posts

#pro severus snape - 475 posts

#pro snape - 320 posts

#snape community - 285 posts

#hp fandom - 187 posts

#anti snaters - 174 posts

#harry potter - 132 posts

#not hp related - 95 posts

#anti marauders - 93 posts

#anti james potter - 87 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#��professor snape! you’re doing the fingy flex thing again! do you get hand cramps or is it something you do when nervous? that’s adorable🥺

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Book!Snape definitely hisses at people.

And I stan that.

386 notes - Posted May 5, 2022

#4

I’m genuinely trying to figure out why ppl hate Snape…and I’m not talking about disliking the character, not every character is loved by everyone, but why do people go out of their way to “daily reminder that Severus Snape wasn’t a good person” or “fuck Snape and anyone who likes him”…it’s confusing.

It can’t be because he bullied children because there’s a lot of that going on in the hp series. The Marauders bullied people, Draco bullied people, Minerva traumatized and humiliated Neville, Sirius choked Harry and broke Ron’s leg, and as much as Duds was a lil shit, Hagrid mutated Dudley, a child, when Uncle Vernon insulted Harry's parents and Dumbledore…Hagrid retaliated on Dudley with the pig's-tail jinx. Hagrid later told Harry the spell was a mistake - he actually meant to turn Dudley completely into a pig…tf

Then I thought: Is it because he joined the DE’s? Noooo it can’t be because the vast majority of Snape haters like Regulus Black (canonically obsessed with Voldemort, and was a DE), and the vast majority of the hp fandom makes hella excuses for Draco (who was actually blood prejudice)

Then I was like: it’s because he’s ugly…but nowhere does it say he’s ugly. There’s nothing wrong with having a big nose, and greasy hair can be from a NUMBER of things, not just poor hygiene.

Is it because people don’t like that he isn’t a perfect victim? Naaaahhh, people usually like those unhinged characters who’s trauma haunts them

Is it because of that dumb headcanon that he’s obsessed with Lily? Cause if I’m being honest, Snape wasn’t the one who told her he’d stop torturing her friend if and only if she went out with him…and he isn’t the one who wrote her initials on a snitch as if she’s an object to catch…HES not the one who “made a fool of himself whenever she was around”…

Is it because he called her Mudblood? It better not be, cause pure blood fan-favorite Draco loved that word more than him…and didn’t Kreacher hurl that word around a lot? As if he’s used to using it or used to his owners using it? Interesting…Didnt Snape actually stop someone from saying Mudblood?

“And now Snape stood again in the headmaster's study as Phineas Nigellus came hurrying into his portrait. "Headmaster! They are camping in the Forest of Dean! The Mudblood - " "Do not use that word!"

Thought so…

So what is it?

399 notes - Posted May 10, 2022

#3

Alright I just saw this and I snorted so I had to share with you 💀

AND I OOP-

The scream I just scrumpt 💀

And he did!

Then he’d watch him take it like

See the full post

410 notes - Posted September 16, 2022

#2

Poppy: You have an impressive pain tolerance.

Snape: Thanks, it's the trauma.

517 notes - Posted March 23, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Tag yourself

10,030 notes - Posted September 27, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[musicanddancingthroughlife]

Shklance - I Died

I feel like I basically dropped off the face of the planet, and for that I apologize. I have no excuses, except stress and mental health have been a huge problem lately and I’ve just been trying to find balance in my life. I can’t promise anything in the near future, with holidays coming up, and I have finals in like 3 weeks, and then my husband and I are moving at the end of the year, and then my little sister’s wedding is a few weeks after so I’m helping with that, and basically my life is just a mess right now, but I am still working on stuff, comments are always welcome and really do help to get me motivated, and hopefully I can get back into the groove of writing daily and posting weekly!

This story is probs gonna be a part 1 of 2. Hopefully. As is, I wanted it to be a stand alone, but I’ve been drafting it for almost a month now and I just want to throw it at you guys. So know I’m working on a part 2, where they talk about the whole thing and you see everyone’s reactions to what happened. This was actually a request someone made of me on my Ao3 account, but I’ve always loved reading stories dealing with everyone finding out about Lance dying. Just never thought I could do it justice haha. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

---------------------------------------------------

Lance knew that this was going to be an emotional day for all of them, but seriously, this was a little overkill. He knew he shouldn’t have gotten out of bed today.

Sure, it was the one-year anniversary of the day they all saved the universe, ended the war that had gone on for decades, blah blah blah, but getting up also meant that he was going to have to see everyone again.

Not that he wasn’t thrilled to see them! He and Hunk especially had been waiting for this day for months, and he couldn’t wait to see Pidge and Matt again, either. Last Lance had talked to them, they had been working on some seriously neat stuff. They were sure to be a lot of fun.

Hell, he had even been looking forward to seeing Allura again, even though things had never really been the same between them after Allura broke things off. Though, considering how hurt he was still feeling about their break up, it was probably a good thing she had canceled last minute. She’d said that she needed to focus on helping the universe heal. Lance had wanted to go with her, but she rejected him. He knew she was trying to be kind, telling him that he “deserved the time to rest” and that she “knew how much he’s been missing his home planet.” But really, all it had done was serve to remind him that he wasn’t actually necessary.

Not like Shiro and Keith were.

Allura hadn’t had any problems taking them with her, even though everyone else (even Keith) and agreed that if anyone deserved the down time, it was Shiro. Especially since Shiro had seemed a little weary when he accepted the invitation from Allura. Personally, Lance believed the only reason he agreed to go was because he knew that Keith wouldn’t be happy staying in one place anymore, and of course, there was no way they were going to allow themselves to be separated again, not after everything that had happened…

And Lance was even looking forward to seeing Keith and Shiro, since he had probably missed them the most. But he also knew that it was going to be hard. It was always hard seeing them together, but knowing that they’ve been doing so much good out in the universe, that they’ve gotten to see so much more of those worlds than he had… That was going to be hard.

Not to mention Lance still hadn’t managed to shake the crushes he’d had on them for so long now.

Or the fact that while everyone else was off changing the universe, traveling the galaxies, creating newer and better technology and inventions, Lance had done nothing? Okay, so farming wasn’t nothing. And no one could deny that Earth needed some TLC after the trauma of the war had nearly destroyed it. But as much as he enjoyed the simple hard work involved, that didn’t mean he didn’t understand it was stupid. It was pathetic. His friends were still fighting, in their own ways, and Lance felt as if he had simply given up. He couldn’t figure out what he wanted to spend his time doing, what felt most worthy of his time and attention, and so he had allowed himself to fall back on something easy.

And he wasn’t sure that he could face his friends while knowing the truth about himself, that he was a coward and had no mission or goals in life.

******

So, maybe Lance was a bit of a drama queen, because things had actually been going better than he expected. Everyone looked good, older and more experienced. Hunk had even grown out some facial hair, though it was a little sparse coming in. Lance knew that wouldn’t be the case for very long. The most shocking was Allura’s news about expecting a child (Keith and Shiro had passed it on in her absence). That hurt way more than Lance thought had a right to, but he tried hard to suppress that pain until he could process it in private. Possibly while crying over a tub of ice cream.

And as far as their actual dinner and celebration went, well… it really had been inevitable that their discussion would become heavier. And, as usual, Lance couldn’t keep his own mouth shut.

“We had some good times, though, right?” Lance laughed easily, trying to direct the conversation back to something lighter, something easier (at this point he’d had a couple decades to cement his masks, and he was good at pretending like nothing was wrong). “I mean, we might have been injured, and tortured—”

“Lance,” Hunk warned. He darted a quick, concerned look to Keith and Shiro, but thankfully neither of them looked too worried. Instead, they were staring at Lance with such sappy looks Hunk was irritated Lance wasn’t paying enough attention to notice on his own. A shared glance with Pidge told him that at least he wasn’t alone in his annoyance.

Lance continued thoughtlessly, “and I mean, maybe a couple of us died, but hey! In the end, it all turned out okay, and look at everyone, living their best lives!” (Lance was firmly ignoring the fact that he had spent most of his free time leading up to today pouting in bed. No one else knew, and therefore it didn’t count.)

Pidge opened her mouth, but Shiro spoke first. His brows were furrowed, and his nose had scrunched up a little. Lance wanted to melt at the cuteness of it. “Did someone else die? I thought I was the only one. Who else died?”

Lance’s jaw snapped shut. He couldn’t remember if it had even been brought up or not… It had to have, right? There’s no way his friends – his team – had just gone on for this long without knowing! He thought they were just ignoring it! Things had been crazy, and they’d never really gotten a chance to slow down and breathe, let alone discuss everything that had happened. And that was fine! That was to be expected! But now he was supposed to believe they just didn’t know??? Did that mean they didn’t care? That they didn’t notice all the nightmares that had become the norm after his death? The way he was jumpier for months after that battle? And if that were the case, then was it even worth bringing up now, so long after it had happened?

Lance’s face was burning, the warm flush traveling up to the tips of his ears, and possibly all the way down his neck. He could feel his eyes welling up, but he brushed it away, pretending his face palm in order to hide the movement. He glanced at his friends, unsurprised to find Hunk staring at him intently. Pidge was muttering to herself, obviously trying to determine what had happened on her own. Lance couldn’t even bear to drag his gaze to Keith or Shiro.

He tried to get out of answering Keith.

“Oops haha, must’ve miscounted, I meant to say that one of us had died,” Lance laughed again but unlike earlier, this one was decidedly uncomfortable. “Because. Obviously. One of us… did. Sorry, Shiro. But like, you died. That happened. And it was weird and we got a weird clone out of the deal, which was weird – did I say that already? – and like he wasn’t a great dude, so I’m glad you didn’t stay dead, you know? You’re much nicer than that clone was, he was kind of a jerk. No offense, Shiro. I mean, not that you’re the clone or anything, cause you’re Shiro, and that was Not-Shiro—”

Oh dear God why wouldn’t they shut him up? Lance was so busy panicking about what he was saying that he didn’t notice Shiro and Keith slowly standing, approaching him from each side. But Hunk and Pidge could almost see the concern rising off them.

“But he was mean, and he yelled at us a lot. Although I guess he really spent most of his time yelling at me, which really, makes sense, but again, not something you would’ve done, Shiro, so I’m glad you didn’t stay dead or anything, because Not-Shiro was a terrible replacement and—”

“Shiro yelled at you?” Keith had come close enough that he could lay a warm, gentle hand on Lance’s shoulder. Lance almost flinched at the contact, it had been so long since someone had touched him like that. Sure, he saw his family way more often than he had while they were fighting in space, but, come on. They were fighting in space. He never saw them back then! Anything was an improvement over that! Anyway, the point was, he knew he was lonely. He ignored it. It didn’t matter. His friends were happy, his family was safe.

“Weren’t you listening when I said it was Not-Shiro?” was all Lance could think to say. Keith rolled his eyes.

“Why did he yell at you?” Shiro asked. Lance shrugged.

“Lance had some good advice to share. Though honestly, I’m thinking that Lance’s plan just wouldn’t have suited the clone’s purposes and he wanted to make sure that Lance would stop pushing. So he yelled, knowing that would be enough to shut Lance down,” Hunk said. He shot Lance an apologetic look as he did so. Smart, because Lance was Not Happy with him. Now wasn’t the time to share petty hurts!

“Personally, I believe it was because if anyone was going to find out he wasn’t really Shiro, it would’ve been you,” Pidge shrugged. And really, et tu, Pidge? This wasn’t fair at all. Not to mention, now Lance could feel the now-familiar guilt from knowing he hadn’t been able to tell.

And that was what finally had Lance speaking up. “Oh come on, guys, that’s not even the worst any of us suffered out there! Lotor joined the team! I died! Shiro died! Keith left! We had bigger things to deal with!”

There was a brief silence following this, long enough for Lance to squeeze his eyes shut and briefly mutter “Fuck” to himself, and then—

“What do you mean, you died?”

Lance’s ability to make things worse every time he opens his mouth really should be considered a wonder of the world.

He opened his eyes hesitantly to find that everyone was watching him intently. Tears were welling in Hunk’s eyes, and Lance knew that if he paid too much attention to his friend, then he would break almost instantly. He avoided looking in that direction, lips pursed shut, determined to stay quiet now. But they were just as determined to make him talk.

“Lance, please, what happened?” and since when the hell does Pidge beg? That’s just wrong. But effective, because that wrongness made Lance jerk his head up, eyes accidentally locking with Shiro.

He looked so sad…

“It really wasn’t a huge deal, I was just saying that there was a lot happening. It was pretty much impossible for all of us to keep up with each other, what with Lotor and Allura, and Keith disappearing then coming back, and the search for Shiro… and Hunk, Pidge, you guys had a great team thing going on there. That was a lot of fun! And then remember Coran had us playing Monsters and Mana? Good times!”

“You played what?” Keith asked, confused. Then he shook his head. “Stop distracting us, Lance. Answer the questions.”

“Um. What questions?”

Keith’s face hardened, eyes doing that dangerous flinty thing that Lance had always loved to see when he got mad. But before he could say anything, Lance’s phone went off. He really did try to hide the relief on his face as he stood, but the way Shiro set his jaw made him think he was not successful.

Before Lance could answer the call, he felt his phone plucked from his fingers. He lunged for it, and Keith slipped it into his own back pocket, out of Lance’s reach. Even worse, his lunge for it brought their faces way too close. Lance jerked back, face flaming a bright red, but he felt himself crash back into Shiro’s firm, solid chest. He started to stammer apologies, but Keith’s hands settled on Lance’s shoulders, pulling him away, and then he and Shiro pushed him back down into his chair. As Shiro moved to kneel next to Lance’s chair, Keith held him there, grounding and sure. He leaned down, putting his mouth close to Lance’s ear and then murmured “Please. We need to know. We’re horrible friends for not already knowing, but we’re asking now and we need you to tell us. Let us help.” And Shiro gripped Lance’s arm, thumb smoothing against his darker skin, making it harder and harder for Lance to want to move.

Lance knew that they were blowing this out of proportion. But he still felt touched. He’d thought they were just ignoring his death because other things were happening at the same time, but maybe that wasn’t really the case. Maybe they truly hadn’t known. Maybe Allura had never said anything, and Lance, expecting Allura to say something, hadn’t said anything either, and so maybe they just didn’t know. Maybe sharing it now would be okay.

[fanficflaneuse]

One Day - Part 5

A/N: Hello magical tumblr friends! I hope you’re all doing alright. So...we’ve reached the middle of this series! I can’t believe I work four chapters in a week. Goodness! I feel on fire right now. I hope you like it. What’s about to come is just plain, simple, absolute drama. 

For this chapter, I drew a bit of inspiration of a series called The Arrangement by @fandomsfeelsandfanfics. It’s not plagiarism or anything, but I did have it in mind as I wrote. All of this to say you should check it out if you haven’t, it’s an amazing series and I’m waiting for an update lol. 

Finally, thanks for all your love and support

Here we go: 

Draco x reader (she/her pronouns) Word count: 2607 (oops...I did it again! (lol) I’m sorry it’s so long. I think this will be the longest chapter of the series).  Summary: One day AU. Post-war. Since The Battle of Hogwarts, Draco and y/n meet one day a year.

Masterlist 

3 May, 2002

“(Y/N), you cannot lock yourself in your library forever.”

“That’s rich coming from you, Hermione,” she said, her voice hoarse.

The brown-haired Gryffindor rolled her eyes, trying to be playful, but there was a hint of concern she couldn’t hide. (Y/N) had been working nonstop. Headmistress McGonagall had offered her a position at Hogwarts. Without a second thought, she quitted at the Ministry and now spent a lot of time in her library, revising every book on DADA and making her best to create a study plan that was challenging and fun. She was also writing again. (Y/N) felt her life was heading in an interesting direction.

“Listen, (Y/N/N), I love you. We all do,” Ginny said as she dragged (Y/N) to her room, Hermione trailing behind them, “And we support every single one of your choices. But you cannot keep waiting for Malfoy to appear at your doorway and magically revive what you had.”

“Besides, he’s bad news, (Y/N). You’ve seen what they write about him in the papers. Not someone a respectable Hogwarts professor, like yourself, should be associated with,” Hermione pointed out, using what they now called her ‘ministry voice’.

“He is a good –“

“We know, we know, love. We know he can be a good person. He is – or was? – our friend as well. Not as close as he was to you,” Ginny raised an eyebrow playfully at this, warranting an annoyed eyeroll from (Y/N), “But we did help save him from Azkaban, didn’t we? So yes, we know he can actually be a good person. You just can’t go around saving him forever, dear. Don’t you realize most of his friends have stopped talking to him because of his behaviour? Merlin! Even Parkinson and Zabini are friendlier to us now than he is.”

“He’s chosen a path, (Y/N/N). He’s not trying to change. And even if he was, he’s not here. It’s time for you to move on,” Hermione reasoned.

(Y/N) sighed. She missed Draco way too much. Sometimes she wondered if he missed her. He hadn’t contacted her in a while. No owls, no visits, no cuddles. It had started out small, a bit of extra drinking during the week, an increasing amount of partying. Then every time she saw him, Draco was nursing a drink. Then the visits started to spread out. He’d always have a party to attend, an invitation somewhere and some sort of alcohol running in his veins. His letters stopped coming shortly after. As she got busier, (Y/N) ceased reaching out for him, tired of his excuses and self-destructive behaviours. She started mourning their friendship and her love for him.

At that point, the infamous articles were already a thing. Draco’s drunken antics had warranted him the moniker of “enfant terrible” and his misadventures were fuel for Rita Skeeter’s sensationalist quill. He always made the front page for the worst of reasons. Everyone had tried to talk some sense into him, to no avail.

“I can’t move on from something that never happened,” she declared in defeat.

“Well, more reasons for you to put this gorgeous dress on and enjoy your date with Ernie,” Ginny pressed on as she threw a blue dress over her shoulder.

“We’ll be waiting for your every detail,” Hermione added as she started working on your hair.

Ernie McMillan asked (Y/N) out at least five times before she accepted. In the end, she did because of her friends’ insistence. Everyone agreed she needed to go out. (Y/N) hadn’t been on a date for such a long time, even she admitted to herself the idea sounded tempting. She wasn’t particularly attracted to Ernie (she wasn’t particularly attracted to anyone whose name wasn’t Draco Malfoy), but she found him very sweet and patient. As the day approached, (Y/N) was getting excited about it.

Then, just the day before her date, she was invited for tea at Malfoy Manor. The affair had been so nerve-wrecking that (Y/N) came back home and cried her eyes out. She spent all night in her library, curled up in a ball. That’s where Ginny and Hermione found her. She had puffy eyes and seemed tired. They didn’t need to think too hard to guess what was the reason for her sorrow. It had been the same for a couple of months now. That’s what made them push harder for her to go out.

As Ginny helped her with her makeup, (Y/N) could only think about her visit to Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy. The only time she had been in their lavish mansion, she had been tortured and put in a cellar with her friends. As she stood in front of the gates, she felt her hands clammy and her whole body shaking. Every fibre of her being was begging her to turn around and run. She felt the tentacles of her fear and trauma engulfing her again, trying to drag her down, reduce her to tears and panic.

“Are you alright?” said a voice she’d recognize anywhere: Lucius Malfoy himself had come to greet her. She saw a lot of Draco in his father. The striking grey eyes were almost too painful to look at.  Lucius’ eyes didn’t hold for her the same affection Draco’s did, but she could recognize a mixture of respect and also a bit of fear. Was he afraid of her? Or was that concern? Did she look that frightened?

“Yes, sir. I was just…”

“Remembering?” he offered, an apologetic expression settling on his aristocratic features.

(Y/N) nodded in response. She tried to smile at him.

“I am glad you could come, Miss (Y/L/N). My wife and I have not had the pleasure of your company since the trials. We never got the chance to thank you for everything you did for us,” he said, motioning her to walk with him.

They strolled through some beautiful gardens. The flowers were blooming and the peacocks showed their beautiful feathers. As they entered the house, (Y/N) felt shivers down her spine. She had to stop for a second and take a deep breath. Lucius waited for her patiently. The walked up the stairs and move through different halls.

“We well be having tea at our living quarters. Narcissa is recovering from that hippogriff virus. Fortunately, it is under control, but my wife is still very delicate and needs her rest,” he explained as he opened the door to the room.

Narcissa Malfoy greeted them. She was seating up on the bed, her back pressed to a mountain of fluffy pillows. She wore an embroidered nightgown and her silky bedspread covered her up to her waist. She was a vision; even in the comfort of her bed, Narcissa looked like a queen. Her whole demeanour, even her seemingly informal attire, made (Y/N) feel underdressed.

As soon as (Y/N) was close to the bed, Narcissa grabbed both of her hands affectionately. It took (Y/N) less than five minutes in front of that majestic woman to decide that even if Draco was physically a copy of Lucius, everything else was absolutely Narcissa: his mannerisms, his smile, his way with words.

“I am so happy to see you, (Y/N),” she said, offering her a smile so wide that reminded her of Draco.

As Lucius brought her a chair and left to fetch the tea, (Y/N) felt really out of place. It was not only the looming idea that she was intruding, but also the way in which such domesticity seemed so strange to her. Draco had told her about his life growing up, how he had a seemingly happy childhood, even if his parents were – to an extent – emotionally distant. The Manor was huge for him alone, but his parents dotted on him and cared for him. (Y/N) imagined that this scene, three people sitting close by in the middle of a huge room, was a constant in Draco’s childhood.

As minutes went by and both women engaged in small talk, (Y/N) let go the idea that Draco would barge through the door at any moment. She then concentrated in her current situation, trying to figure out why would they, of all people, invite her over for tea. Narcissa noticed this and pursed her lips.

“I am going to be direct with you, (Y/N). I know it must be very strange, our invitation, I mean. I do wish we had done it sooner, for I have a lot to thank you. The matter at hand, though, is not a joyous one,” she explained, carefully, “we are very worried for our son”.

(Y/N) gulped. She was about to respond when Lucius came back, balancing three cups and a teapot. As he made his way to them. He served the three cups with effortless elegance.

“I hope you like jasmine tea, Miss (Y/L/N) ,” he said as he offered her a cup.

“Yes, it is excellent,” she answered, trying to adopt a posher inflection in her voice.

Lucius and Narcissa shared a meaningful look. “I was just telling (Y/N) how we are worried about Draco,” she explained, almost as a though it was a nuisance.

“Worried?” Lucius scoffed dramatically, “I am not worried. If anything, I am mad and disappointed. He is tarnishing the family name with his stupidity.”

“He is worried,” Narcissa decided. Lucius sighed and nodded in response.

They talked for a while about how he had gotten into drinking. It had started with a glass of firewhiskey every other day, then he was drinking every night, going to bars and partying until very odd hours. The conversation flowed between Narcissa and (Y/N), with Lucius adding his somewhat scathing remarks. They talked about the articles in the Daily Prophet and the stupid moniker.

“I have not talked to him in a long time, Mrs. And Mr. Malfoy,” she said at some point. Her vision got a bit blurry with tears, but she was determined not to cry in front of them. She tried to blink them away to no avail. She looked away. Lucius took her cup from her trembling hands and Narcissa enveloped her in a hug. (Y/N) started crying on her shoulder.

“I wish there was something I could do. I tried. I really tried,” she sobbed.

(Y/N) felt really stupid for how she was behaving. But both Narcissa and Lucius were surprisingly nice about it.

“Dear, we did not invite you here to ask you to do something. We know if anyone has tried to help our son, it has been you. I was really sick, you know? As a matter of fact, I almost died. If you ever get that hippogriff virus, please do take it seriously. When I was delirious, only two things truly worried me, (Y/N): one was leaving Lucius behind and the other one was Draco. My son’s life is an utter chaos as it is. And I know my husband and I have a very big responsibility and a lot of blame for his bad decisions, but I also know the kind of person I gave birth to. And he is a good person. I know you saw something in him. Something good. And as I started getting a little better, my heart was suddenly set on one thing. I needed to know you. I needed to know that someone out there genuinely cares for my son and sees him for who he is, (Y/N).”

(Y/N) felt her heart heavy with longing. She took Narcissa’s hands. “I love your son,” she said and immediately felt her face getting hot, “a –as a friend, I mean. It’s no secret we haven’t talked much in the last year…but I still care for him. I think I will always care for him.”

Narcissa squeezed her hands and smiled at her. “Thank you, (Y/N).”

As Lucius was escorting (Y/N) out of the manor, they bumped into Draco himself. He could barely stand on his own. He reeked of alcohol. His eyes were glossy and an easy smile was set on his face. Lucius frowned. The sight, however, broke (Y/N)’s heart.

“Hellooooo, father,” he slurred.

“Draco, where were you?” Lucius countered, trying to be as patient as possible.

“Around,” Draco said.

“You have been around for three days now. Your mother was very worried.”

(Y/N) winced. Draco took notice of her. At first, he didn’t recognize her (or maybe he didn’t want to recognize her), once he was sure it was her, he tried to stand up a little straighter. He gave her what he thought was a charming smile, but his mind was so hazy it was actually pitiful.

“Hello, Dray,” (Y/N) whispered, trying to keep her emotions in check. As she said this, though, Draco lunged forward clumsily and gave her a hug that felt almost like he was slumping onto her. (Y/N) held him in place, almost collapsing under his weight.

“I’ve missed you so so so so so so so so so much, (Y/N/N). I promise I’ll write more. I miss you,” he said, covering her face with kisses. His breath also stank of alcohol. Although his words were a consolation, his deplorable state made her very sad.

“Behave, boy. I thought I had raised you better,” said Lucius in annoyance.

He grabbed Draco by his shirt and pushed him away from (Y/N). Uncoordinated as he was, he fell on his bum. He searched for (Y/N)’s face, teary eyed. As they made eye contact, (Y/N) was reminded of a very small child. She wanted to cradle him in her arms again and reassure him that everything was going to be alright. (Y/N) knew that wasn’t the best idea. Her thoughts were echoed by Lucius, who, as kindly as possible, asked her to leave.

(Y/N) kneeled in front of Draco, who looked at her with a bit of sorrow and a great deal of confusion. She kissed his cheek and he smiled.

“Take care, Draco,” she said very softly.

Just thinking about that now, as Ginny blended her eyeshadow, gave her enough reasons to want to apparate in Malfoy Manor. She knew her friends were right; she couldn’t save Draco forever. She couldn’t change him either.

As Hermione and Ginny pushed her in front of her mirror, (Y/N)’s heart was shattered. She looked beautiful. The dress fit perfectly. Her makeup was incredible and her hair was twisted in a delicate braid. Somehow, even like that, she felt like hiding herself under her bedspread. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her doorbell.

Ernie had arrived.

…

“I can’t believe I’m going out with a published author,” Ernie said with a cheeky smile. 

“Oh, it’s just a couple of short stories in The Hogsmeade Review. It’s not a big deal,” she answered before taking a sip of her wine.

“The Hogsmeade Review is a big deal, (Y/N/N),” he countered, “it’s where most big shot writers started. I believe Newt Scammander published his first essays there as well. Can you imagine your novels becoming standard Hogwarts readings?”

Ernie had a very articulated opinion on everything. At times during the date, (Y/N) would let him talk and talk and talk, until he seemed to exhaust his information on whatever they were now discussing. Did it bore her? To infinity and beyond. She couldn’t deny, though, that his enthusiasm was a bit infectious as well and she needed something like that at the moment. And, surprisingly, she wasn’t having a bad time.

So, when he asked her out for a second date, she bit the inside of her cheek and accepted.  

tags: @naomi02hook @okaydraco @fandomscombine @iliketoast23

[little-forget-me-not]

Steven’s declining emotional and mental health is reminds me so uncomfortably of myself fuckk...“It’s nothing to worry about. It’s not important. I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

“Growing Pains” was extremely difficult to watch.

“Well, you seem to have made a series of miraculous recoveries, but that doesn't change the fact that you experienced trauma. You've recovered physically, but have you recovered mentally?

It's that adverse childhood experiences, or childhood trauma, can have a lasting impact on how your body responses to stress. This can affect your social, emotional, and physical development. When humans are in crisis, the brain releases the hormone cortisol. Your heart races, your muscles tense. I wonder if your body is reacting to a gem equivalent of cortisol. Steven, do you remember anything bad in your childhood that particularly stuck with you?”

“I think all these experiences have been subjecting your body to a harmful amount of stress, and that's affecting your ability to respond to new forms of stress in a healthy way. You've been dealing with genuine threats from such a young age, your body is now responding to minor threats as if your life were in danger!” 

...I’ve never seen a show address trauma so...well.

...I...

....

I live in a state of constant stress and anxiety...sometimes it becomes quite extreme. I cannot function and cope with anything that is remotely “minor” because nothing really is minor.

“ Stress is less harmful and we have people we trust to help us through it. Maybe if you're losing your supportive relationships, or if you had a recent experience that was practically off-”

....last year it was as if I lost my social support network. This year I...I am still in isolation though I am trying to be...there for myself. 

“Come on, talk to me.”

I wish...someone.. I wish I had a ..Greg dad. ..someone to talk to me by my bedside.

This episode was extremely painful to watch oops.

my throat closed up, my shoulders tense, my chest hurts, my pits start sweating profusely (also my dad’s gf is talking really loudly at it feels like shouting so my anxiety is ...painful too), I cried...

...

...I wish i had someone to talk to. Someone emotionally close, someone I trust.

I don’t know how to deal with the cumulative stress of my survival. I don’t know how to deal with trauma. I don’t know how to be okay.

I try my best to be there for myself now. Not because I “should”, but because I want to, and I care and love myself. It breaks my heart to see myself struggling, and it feels so helpless not truly knowing how to meet my own needs, especially the ones that go beyond me. Things like social connection especially.

Recently the stress has been so bad...well, it always has been so bad, but recently I’ve noticed how it manifests more and more in my body. I get so tense that I get migraines that are so bad I cannot function because I constantly feel like puking. They are everyday now. So much of my hair has turned white. My immune system is weakened because of stress.

I learnt about GAS (General Adaption Syndrome) and I realise my body is constantly in these processes...

It scares me. Knowing how it damages the body. I have actual proof of that now, and I am so scared for myself. I don’t want to constantly subject myself to stress but ...stress is a part of life. But ...

...

I felt like dying again today. I couldn’t study no matter how hard I forced myself to. I just wanted to die. I didn’t want the responsibility, the unhealthy amount of daily stress, the loneliness, the solitude, the despair and fear and struggle. I felt so, so, so heavy.  

My shoulders were so tense, I had a splitting migraine that made me want to throw up.

I finally gave in and went to bed. I allowed myself to cry and soothed my own hair, talking gently to myself.

Strangely, when I told myself "But what about love? What about your dream?”,  I felt my whole body tense up. I didn't realise it did that before. Whenever I watch or hear anything that mentions love, romance, hope, mentions "the impossible is possible", my body has a physical reaction and I feel choked up, tense and like crying..almost like my body is resisting it.

It’s the hope that I hold onto and it is difficult to hold on to it sometimes. Like a hope that hurts.

[toadallybpd]

what is ptsd like?

I'm giving you two parts to this answer. The first is the criteria for diagnosing post-traumatic stress disorder. The second is how ptsd affects me personally and some general information.DSM-5 Criterian for PTSD:• Criterion A (one required): The person was exposed to: death, threatened death, actual or threatened serious injury, or actual or threatened sexual violence, in the following way(s):Direct exposureWitnessing the traumaLearning that a relative or close friend was exposed to a traumaIndirect exposure to aversive details of the trauma, usually in the course of professional duties (e.g., first responders, medics)• Criterion B (one required): The traumatic event is persistently re-experienced, in the following way(s):Intrusive thoughtsNightmaresFlashbacksEmotional distress after exposure to traumatic remindersPhysical reactivity after exposure to traumatic reminders• Criterion C (one required): Avoidance of trauma-related stimuli after the trauma, in the following way(s):Trauma-related thoughts or feelingsTrauma-related reminders• Criterion D (two required): Negative thoughts or feelings that began or worsened after the trauma, in the following way(s):Inability to recall key features of the traumaOverly negative thoughts and assumptions about oneself or the worldExaggerated blame of self or others for causing the traumaNegative affectDecreased interest in activitiesFeeling isolatedDifficulty experiencing positive affect• Criterion E (two required): Trauma-related arousal and reactivity that began or worsened after the trauma, in the following way(s):Irritability or aggressionRisky or destructive behaviorHypervigilanceHeightened startle reactionDifficulty concentratingDifficulty sleeping• Criterion F (required): Symptoms last for more than 1 month.• Criterion G (required): Symptoms create distress or functional impairment (e.g., social, occupational).• Criterion H (required): Symptoms are not due to medication, substance use, or other illness.It is kind of hard to explain what PTSD is like due to it manifesting in everyone a little differently. It largely depends on what the trauma actually was, if the trauma was a one time event or an ongoing event, your own personal brain chemistry because everyone's is a little different, etc.I consider myself to have high functioning/mildish PTSD even though I was diagnosed with it and it's currently on my medical records.  It still affects me, but not as much as other people. I was physically, mentally, and emotionally abused as a child. I don't really remember any of it, only a few bits and pieces. I do get flashbacks. They're fairly rare, but when I do get them, they are absolute hell. One-time I was stuck in a flashback for about 10-15 minutes and I thought my friend was my abuser trying to kill me.I don't remember 95ish percent of my childhood, so flashbacks for me occur when something triggers a repressed and forgotten memory of an unpleasant experience. Imagine that feeling you get when you lean really far back in your chair and almost fall but you catch yourself. Now imagine that times about 100 and imagine it as like a shockwave going through your body. That's what the second those forgotten memories flood back feels like. Then you lose control and you're forced to watch the images flash before you and you feel like you're going to die. You're paralyzed and can do absolutely nothing to stop them.I live with my biological father now (he has never abused me) but I still find it hard to trust him and actually be able to open up to him fully. I cannot ask for anything. I buy my own hygiene products and if there isn't enough food in the house (We are really poor and rely on the government for food) I cannot ask for food. I can't do a lot of normal things with him because im on constant alert and am subconsciously still trying to avoid being manipulated, abused, etc. I have extreme paranoia because I was gaslighted almost daily for over half my life and had physical abuse randomly for about half my life. This is the part of ptsd that affects me the most. It affects me everyday.PTSD is like being forced to carry a bomb and constantly worry about when it'll detonate. You try to avoid anything and everything that could potentially set it off. Your brain is on constant alert.There's a lot more to this but it's really hard for me to put in words. I apologize if I gave you too much information lol I have a habit of doing that oop. I hope this answers your question.