#Panic part 2

[mamaskillerqueen]

Hysteria || Jake Seresin x Reader

Warnings/AN: This is finally part two of Panic! So there is a lot of mention of anxiety ticks and triggers based on how I experience them. Otherwise, I don’t think there is much to warn. If you feel I need to add something here though, please let me know!

A week and a half.

It passed by so quickly and so agonizingly slowly all at the same time. You’d been so wrapped up in work, at least that’s what you kept telling yourself, that you never typed out that text message to Mysterious Bar Guy. Even though Mysterious Bar Guy has been on your mind the entire time. It was hard to get someone like that out of your head after such an unbelievable meeting. You often found yourself questioning if it was fate, something you rarely let happen.

The project the office had been working on was harrowing for everyone, apparently. Or they were just excited to have finally found a nice bar to frequent because plans were already being made to visit the Hard Deck again. In a week... After your last experience, you weren’t sure if you wanted to go but ultimately agreed due to much pleading from your friends. The only issue was that it put just a bit more pressure on to get that message sent off to the man who had turned the evening around the last time.

For an hour at the end of your day, you sat at your desk with an open and blank text message. The slight blink of the cursor was taunting you, your own phone making fun of the fact that you couldn’t tap out even a simple message. Surely it shouldn’t be this hard but it has been so long. You were pushing two weeks since you'd last seen him. Has it been too long? He probably forgot about the whole interaction by now.

“Hey!” 

A knock on your office door had you nearly jumping out of your skin, your head snapping up from your phone screen to see a coworker standing in the doorway. They offered a small smile in apology for scaring you as you clutched your chest.

“You coming? We’re heading out now.”

You nodded, muttering a complaint of their scaring you. It was met with a chuckle as they backed away from your door. Quickly you gathered your things so you could follow your friends out of the building for the day, they didn't like to wait around. The text message that was never formulated would have to wait a little longer. Maybe cooking dinner would bring inspiration. At least you hoped because there was no way you could wait any longer than tonight to text him. He really would forget about you if you didn’t get the show on the road, so to speak.

Your entire commute home was driven on autopilot as you thought far too hard about a good opening text. By the time you pulled into your driveway, you still hadn’t decided if he would even want that text now or not. Somehow, driving on autopilot was quicker for you because you had more time left in your evening than usual after dinner. Which unfortunately meant far too long to let you overthink a text message that really shouldn't be so difficult to formulate.

Once dinner was put away, and the dishes were loaded into the dishwasher you’d sat back down with your phone. The couch welcomed you with open arms and being comfortable helped settle some of the racing thoughts you were trying to fight off. You have always been able to think a little more clearly when you were in a comfortable setting. Several messages were typed out though, and then deleted before you finally settled on one that was going to have to be good enough. There was no way you could convince yourself to spend any more time on this.

Settle any good anxiety-riddled women on a deck outside of a bar lately?

You weren’t expecting a reply so quickly but before you could even get up off the couch to start your nighttime routine your phone chimed.

Mysterious Bar Guy: No, I save that for the really special ones. Didn’t think I’d hear from her again though.

A sense of calm washed over you at his quick and easy reply, even if you felt a little terrible about making him wait so long. The conversation lasted about half an hour, you apologized profusely and blamed a busy work schedule. He was quick to accept the apology and plan a date for the next evening. A date he refused to disclose any information on, and insisted happen so soon because too much time had passed already. When you demanded to know enough for a dress code, well as demanding as you could bring yourself to be, he relented in telling you to dress like you would for the bar.

At first that made you nervous. He seemed too good to be true so dragging you back to the bar you met for a first date might have made him a little less perfect, but he seemed to realize how that answer had come off and quickly sent another text message. This one to assure you that was not what was happening, he just wanted you comfortable. You wondered all day at work what he could have planned. Texts were sent back and forth all day as you tried to get more info out of him. He was sealed tight though, and very proud of his plans. That would be why you spent the last half of your free evening pacing your house until you needed to get ready.

There was practically a trench in your living room by the time you decided what you’d wear and how you’d do your makeup. A mental game plan was needed before you even attempted to look at your closet or you would never pick anything. When the time was appropriate and the game plan was set, you made your way to your room to settle into an easy routine. Something about doing your makeup always relaxed you. So, by the time there was a ringing of your doorbell you weren’t as nervous anymore. At least until you had to make your way to the door to let him in. Butterflies raged on in your stomach, almost making you wonder if they had gone away at all, while you descended the stairs.

With a shaky hand, you pulled the door open and as soon as your eyes met his, everything dropped. Your shoulders were no longer hunched up to your ears, a steady smile pulled your lips upwards, and you let out a breath you’d been holding since before you even got home this afternoon. Jake didn’t let onto it, but you could tell he noticed. It was only slightly embarrassing. 

“Hi,” you breathed while stepping aside and motioning for him to come inside.

He stood in the doorway with a small bouquet of wildflowers, not too much but definitely not empty-handed. Normally, you wouldn’t consider yourself a flower kind of person but you couldn’t help but be tonight. They were so pretty and the giddy feeling you got thinking about how he considered what he has learned about you so far to pick such a small bouquet made you understand why someone would enjoy this. It was almost scary how easy and comfortable everything was with him. It was the complete opposite of how you usually felt around strangers.

“Hi, these are for you. You look gorgeous.”

You could feel the heat flood your cheeks and decided to avoid eye contact as you reached for the flowers and took a sniff. Your eyes met his for one second, only rushing that heat to your ears.

“They’re beautiful, thank you. I’m gonna put them in water, and then I’m all set.”

When you returned from the kitchen, Jake was leaning against the entryway by your living room. His eyes following your every move. As soon as you stopped to stand in front of him, your fingers began fidgeting with bubbling anxiety, he pushed off the wall to grab your hands. He quickly bent at the knees, just a bit, so he could look you in the eyes a little easier as you refused to bring them back up to meet his.

“What’re ya scared of darlin’?” He asked, no judgment or accusation in his tone.

“That this could all go horribly wrong and I could end up never seeing you again.”

Your reply came so easily, so quickly, it startled you. It was the most honest you had ever been with someone you barely knew. Maybe the most honest you have ever been with another person in general.

“I don’t think that’s anything you need to worry about.”

His reassurances were nice and came almost as quickly as your honest answer had a moment ago. It was just as startling, which held a vague comfort. It was nearly impossible to lie that quickly, right?

The rest of the evening couldn’t have gone by any better, or smoother. Jake was the perfect Southern gentleman, holding doors and offering his hand to help you in and out of his truck. He didn’t disappoint with a small, quiet little diner for dinner. You both ordered burgers and milkshakes and chatted for well over an hour before he insisted it was time to go. He checked in on the drive to the surprise main event, making sure you were okay and comfortable. When you said you were fine but started to fidget with your fingers, he offered one hand from the steering wheel. You took it gratefully and immediately settled. It didn't matter where he was taking you. Some surprises could be good. You had to know that. So, you allowed his touch to relax you as much as you could manage.

He had known that a fancy, busy restaurant would have probably caused a little anxiety. It had taken him forever to find the small diner that seemed to be nearly empty at all times. The food was great though, and when you were comfortable enough to chat for so long he had known he’d made the right decision. He filled you in on this as he drove, trying to distract you from the fact that you had no idea what he had up his sleeve. It was also a great way to fill the silence that had settled into the vehicle, it wasn't quite awkward but you're sure that if he hadn't started talking it probably would have reached that level eventually.

When the door opened and his hand stretched back out to you to help you back out of the truck, your eyes nearly bugged out of your head and a small gasp left your lips. Your feet hit the ground but you barely noticed as you turned to look at him, the shock still clear on your face.

“You didn’t...”

It was easy to read the pride on his face as he nodded and informed you that he had in fact done it. During one of your texting conversations, which had happened right before this date, he had told you all about flying. You had mentioned your love of sunsets and he said they were best while up in the air. The exact response you gave him was long forgotten since the wee hours of this morning but you know it was along the terms of wanting to see that. You’d ask how he managed this on such short notice one day, but today you were blithely excited as you both bounded toward the giant hot air balloon.

Light changes quickly, you knew that from a brief stint in the photography field. So you were both compliant to all rules and information given as they filled the balloon and you started to ascend into the air. You had never had a first date even close to as good as this. His arms wrapped around you and held you close to his chest as you both whispered your awe for the beauty of the changing sky. It took a conscious effort to not start crying over how good this was. Something in the back of your brain was nagging that it couldn't be real, or wouldn't last at the very least. While you floated through the sky with his voice in your ear, talking all about what it's like to see this in the jet he flies for work, you settled. His chatter and body language was enough to shut up your traitorous brain for now.

When the basket touched the earth again, and it was time to end your evening, anxiety and dread started to bubble in your chest though. You couldn’t have had a better time. It was perfect. He was perfect. And that was terrifying because when would the other shoe drop? Jake did a phenomenal job of keeping you from a downward spiral while you chatted on the way to your house. His hand was placed firmly on your thigh, his thumb rubbing soothing circles. The wind from the downed windows whipped through your hair, and a faint country love song played on the radio. He even walked you to the door, kissed your cheek, and whispered a perfectly raspy goodnight in your ear. It wasn’t until he was gone that you panicked again.

That trench in your living room only worried deeper as you refused to sleep the rest of the night. The fact that you had to work first thing in the morning be damned. There was so much to think over, so much to dissect from the evening. Perfect evenings like that only happened in your dreams, movies, and fanfics. They didn't happen to you. Let alone the way you met the man of your dreams. In the modern, real world that you actually lived in, people met on apps like Tinder and wondered why it wouldn't work out. So many reasons why you shouldn't be getting a fairy tale ending, or how they weren't real raced in your head. Your pacing only stopped long enough to read the text Jake sent to let you know he was home safe, per your request. 

You didn’t reply.

In fact, you didn’t reply to a single text he sent for the next almost two weeks.

His messages never stopped being sweet, even as the beautiful flowers he’d gotten you died on the counter. As each petal fell, you knew you were losing your chance. You were losing him. But, did you ever have him? What if the amount of talking you’d actually done was annoying and he just wanted one thing? What if he would drop you immediately after he got it? What if he found something better? It was infuriating that all you could think about were the terrible things that could happen. You were singlehandedly making your worse fears come true but nothing you did could make you reply. Even his adorable little pleas for you to at least let him know you were alive. 

The first day you didn’t receive a text from him, you found yourself with your head between your knees as you tried to calm down enough to not throw up all over your office. It didn’t help that it was Friday, finally, and the plan was for everyone to go out to the Hard Deck for drinks, that you had made them push back last week. Not a single one of your friends would let you out of it now. They didn’t know you were self-sabotaging, not that it would have made a difference. Honestly, it probably would have made them take you sooner to find the very nice, handsome pilot you could already picture a future with. If you hadn’t messed it all up.

He was the first thing you noticed the minute you walked into the bar that night. Luckily, he hadn’t seen you yet. You needed a drink, a strong one or five before you attempted to confront your mistakes. Your best friend from work volunteered for the first round, and as you slid into the booth you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. He looked just as perfect as the first night you met him. His uniform fit way too well to not have been tailored. The megawatt smile he wore, while he played pool, tugged at your heartstrings. The stupid voice in your head told you he was clearly happy without you. You were overthinking and he was fine.

Round two came far quicker than anyone was expecting and you jumped at the chance to buy just so you could move. You had no room in the tight booth to do any form of fidgeting, and when your brain wouldn't shut up, moving seemed to help at least slow the Gilmore Girl-esque dialog a bit. As you stood at the bar you decided that five seemed like a good number before you went to him. What you hadn’t expected was that just someone accidentally stepping too close at the bar would bring back unpleasant flashbacks of being pawed the last time you were here in this very spot.

“Please don’t touch me.”

The plead was weak, and therefore deaf to the man who was practically stomping on your heels as he attempted to wave Penny down. He moved closer to squeeze between you and the other person next to you, all while your shoulders pulled further up towards your ears and the air began to feel thick. Clearly, his beer was more important than the people who were already waiting patiently. Your stomach rolled with unease, and when he finally noticed he was making you uncomfortable he laid it on a little thicker. A tactic to get his drink first, you were sure but as his hands found your waist you bolted. As you practically sprinted across the bar you decided that ordering drinks was no longer your job, ever again at any location.

There was only one person in this entire bar, hell the entire world, who could make you feel less like throwing up, and you went running for him. His name had left your lips in a terrified gasp before you were even close but his head whipped around to find you, and his arms opened wide. When you collided with his chest he had to take an unsteady step backwards to keep you from knocking both of you over. Before you could register much, you were outside.

Jake had passed his pool stick off and had shuffled you both out the back door. Your breathing was a little ragged but with his arms so tightly wrapped around you, and his scent relaxing everything in you, you were slowly returning to yourself. The salty spray of ocean air wafted through your hair and licked at your skin, a soft humming rang in your ear, and when it paused for a soft pair of lips to press a kiss into your hair, you melted.

“What happened after our date, sweetheart?”

The very long silence that had preceded his question wasn’t bad, the silence that followed was awkward. You tensed in his arms but did nothing else to move, you felt him give you a subtle squeeze in reassurance. He did not attempt to rush you and still made sure you were okay. It was almost like he could read your mind. The response you gave him had to be mumbled into his chest because there was no way you could lift your head and meet his eyes yet. One drink was not enough to prepare you for this.

“What do you mean?”

Smooth. If you could smack yourself in the face, you would have.

“I mean, where have ya been? I thought we’d already be a couple by now. That date went really well, didn’t it?”

“I-yo-wait.. what?”

You struggled your way out of his tight grasp and stared up at him with evident shock written on your face. He stared at you with a quiet acceptance that had you feeling even more guilty. There was something in his eyes that you couldn't bring yourself to even think about at the moment. Your brain would find a way to take the feeling and make it terrible if you ever thought of naming it. He didn’t say what you thought he did, did he? He couldn't have. If he had just said what you thought you definitely needed to not cry right now.

He just continues to stare at you for a minute, that look you can't name never wavering, knowing all you need is a second to wrap your head around what you want to say. So silence stretches on for a few seconds, that felt like hours. You open your mouth and then close it at least ten times before your brain allowed you to form a coherent sentence that kind of explained everything that has been going on for you in the last two weeks.

“It did go well. Very well. I just… well, you know,” you motion to your head, swirling your finger in the air like the whirlwind that is always happening in your head, “it gets crazy up here and I can get a little lost sometimes. I’d really love that second date if you’ll have me.”

The only indication that you might have a second chance at this is a faint smile. He barely lets you see it, his face schooled into a stoic mask. Your heart beats rapidly as you think about how you probably don’t deserve a second chance. He would be better off with someone who could function as a social human and answer his texts and pleas to let him know you were still alive. And then he speaks, and your heart stops dead in its tracks.

“For you darlin’?” He pauses for dramatic effect, a smirk pulling his lips up further, “I’d do anything you’d ask.”

And then it starts pumping again. Back in full force. Hard enough to completely break your chest. You’re going to marry this man one day, and if you don’t get that chance, it’ll be the end of you.

[icewindandboringhorror]

................ he 

[alienkitty259]

[hold-him-down]

🚑 Rushed to the hospital

✥ The Hospital Arc - Part 1 ✥ 

Notes: ~ 18 months in, just a little introduction to a long awaited mini-arc.

Trigger Warnings: Med Whump, Panic Attacks, Hyperventilation, Medical Restraints, Needle Mention, Institutionalized Slavery

✥ ✥ ✥ 

It was supposed to be a simple enough task. Go to the grocery store. Get the things on the list. Go home and get back to his books and cook dinner and watch the sun set and, if it’s a very good day, once Luke gets home they can watch a movie in Luke’s bed and maybe Luke will hold him, even if just for a little bit.

But it’s not a simple task. Anxiety builds in Leo’s peripheries as he weaves through the aisles, hyper-aware of every person he encounters. It’s busier here than he’s comfortable with, and the noises and the lights and the narrow walkways put him on edge. He urges himself, not for the first time that day, to pull himself together.

Still, he selects items almost carelessly, checking off his mental list as quickly as he can. 

It’s because he’s moving too quickly, and he’s too jumpy, and everything is too much, that he makes the mistake. He rounds the corner to the cashier, and his cart nearly collides with someone else’s. He dodges it, issuing an anxious, “I’m sorry,” and tries to keep his head down.

He knows the moment that he sees the scrub bottoms, though, that he’s in trouble. Handler, his mind screams at him. He tries to quiet that voice.

He closes his eyes, taking a breath. Another. Another. The sounds of the store grow distorted, far away and warbly and almost silent against the ringing in his ears.

It’s just a doctor or a nurse. The hospital is nearby. It is not a handler. It’s just a doctor. Maybe it’s Rob. Maybe it’s Luke. It is not a handler. Rationally, Leo knows that the nearest site is over an hour away, and no handler would still be in their scrubs after their shift. Leo’s not thinking rationally, though. 

He struggles to pull in air as he forces his eyes open. 

The man is staring at him. Does he look angry? He’s speaking to him, he thinks, but he can’t make out the words.

I’m sorry, he tries to say again, but isn’t sure if the words come out.

He takes a step back, raising his hands in apology, and tries to draw in another breath. He’s hyperventilating. His fingers shake as he reaches toward his pocket. If he can call… if he can call Luke, Luke can explain. If he can get home, he has medicine in the pantry he can take, and he can… he can hide somewhere until Luke gets home and helps him. He can… he needs to get home, he tries to say. 

The man takes a step toward him, his hands up, mirroring Leo’s. Leo’s eyes dart around the store, but he processes none of what he sees. 

He can hear voices behind him, telling the man to back off, he thinks. 

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out. “I–” He wants to tell them he’s allowed to be here. That he’s under contract, and that Luke told him to come here. He wants to tell them not to touch him, that if they touch him right now, it’ll be so much worse. He wants to tell them he’s going to be sick. He wants to tell them he can’t breathe. 

But all that comes out is another apology, choked off with a sob.

He’s going to black out. He reaches for his wallet, for his phone, for anything. He grasps at whatever memories of Luke’s voice he can find, clutching onto the sound and the words with every piece of rational thought that he has left. 

From behind him, he feels hands on his shoulders, and almost instantly, he’s back in training. The handlers are shouting at him, the handlers are holding him down. He’s crying, he’s begging them to let him go. He’ll do better, he cries. He’s so, so, sorry. 

✥ ✥ ✥ 

There are hands on him when things come into focus. There are fingers pressing into his neck, there’s a mask over his mouth and nose. Breaths don’t come easily, but they come, chased by a burning pain. 

He feels a jolt, and forces his eyes open; he’s in an ambulance, he thinks. He reaches up to take off the mask, to tell the man who’s holding him that he’s okay, to beg him to call Luke and to tell him that Luke will help him. His hands won’t work, though. 

“It’s alright,” the man says. “Take it easy.” 

Do they know he’s a worker? Do they kn… do they know he’s under contract? He tries to ask them if they’re taking him back to a DLS site, but he can’t. He feels tears pooling in his eyes; he tries to lift his hands again, but canvas straps dig into his wrists at the movement.

He sobs, while a desperate plea that probably isn’t understandable to the man works its way out of his chest. The mask muffles the sound, and the man looks concerned, so Leo lets himself hope that maybe… maybe he’ll listen.

Focusing is difficult. Producing words is even harder. 

“Let him talk,” another EMT says, nodding.

The first, the man at his head, says, “Stay calm and breathe, okay? You’re gonna be alright.”

The man is obvious with his movements as his hand closes in on Leo’s face, and Leo shrinks into himself.  The moment he’s free from the mask, Leo immediately whispers, “I’m s-sorry,” broken by a kind of panicky gasping.

“It’s okay,” the man responds. Leo’s not unaware of how closely he’s watching him, “You’re not in any trouble. They’ll get everything sorted out at the hospital, you’ll be out of there in no time.”

“C-Can you call Luke?” He swallows, forcing as much air into his lungs as he can. It’s not enough. “B-Bennett,” he whispers. “He’s my… he holds my c-c-c-” His whole body is shaking, and the man puts the mask back over his mouth.

“Your contract,” the other EMT says. She squeezes his hand, eying the strap holding it in place. “They’ll call him as soon as you get checked out,” she continues. “There’s… protocol, we need to follow, with people in the system.”

Luke will come, he tries to tell them. More importantly, he tries to make himself believe it. The world is spotting, though. The handlers’ voices are back in his head. Every time his eyes close, images of restraints, of hands on him, of laughter, of his collar, of tubes and white coats and bright lights and scrubs and pain, force their way to the front.

He can’t quite parse out what’s real and what’s in his head, so he sucks in breath after breath, tears streaming in waves down his cheeks as two hands turn into four hands turn into so many hands, and he's too scared to open his eyes and he's too scared to speak and all he can think of, over and over, is that Luke will come for him. He just needs to be good, and Luke will come for him.

FIGHTER TAG LIST: @whump-cravings , @afabulousmrtake @crystalquartzwhump @maracujatangerine @pumpkin-spice-whump @distinctlywhumpthing @thecyrulik @highwaywhump @batfacedliar-yetagain @finder-of-rings @dont-touch-my-soup @skyhawkwolf @suspicious-whumping-egg @also-finder-of-rings @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @prodigal-zoe, @peachy-panic @melancholy-in-the-morning @urban-dark @nicolepascaline @quietly-by-myself @pigeonwhumps @whump-blog @seasaltandcopper @angstyaches @i-msonotcreative @mylifeisonthebookshelf @anonintrovert @whump-world @squishablesunbeam @considerablecolors @whumpcereal @whumperfully @pirefyrelight @whumpsday @whumplr-reader @lonesome--hunter @darkthingshappen

[neosmanlymancave]

stilgar literally at any given moment during dune part two

[absolutely-cheesy]

Broke out the cannons. Aaaaaand got my first TOTK Panic Blood Moon!

The invisible wall disappeared after this. There was nothing valuable behind it besides a truffle. Might've been a Bubbulfrog there in the past; I'd been to this cave before.

10/10 experience.

[abbysthighs]

We definitely did NOT almost die trying to climb over this WLF wall. We didn't "embarass" ourself in front of our HOTTIE of a crush Dina... never...

[icycoldninja]

Disquietude (Vergil x Reader angst)

WARNING: Panic attacks and anxiety ahead, dni if you are uncomfortable with these themes!

You'd awoken from a vivid nightmare, shivering and shaking all over. You were afraid; the horrible images you'd dreamed up had left you shaking. You sat up in your bed, blankets tightly wrapped around your shoulders in an attempt to comfort yourself, but to no avail. You were scared, terrified--panicking. Your vision was blurring and you felt dizzy; you felt lightweight and slightly nauseous, though out of all of these, your strongest emotion was fear.

Your body involuntarily shook; muffle whimpers spilled from your mouth without you having any control over them. You were helpless, unable to do anything but sit there and panic.

Vergil, who was in the kitchen getting a drink, heard your anguish and raced upstairs immediately, thinking you were injured, or possibly even being attacked. He was expecting an angry demon--what he found was worse.

Vergil wasn't used to seeing something like this. He was inexperienced in comforting others, and didn't know how to react towards people in emotional turmoil. He wanted to comfort you, he really did, but he had no idea how. What was he supposed to say? What should he do? What if he made things worse--what if he hugged you too tight and hurt you by accident? So many things could go wrong. He couldn't take that risk, but at the same time, he didn't want to leave you like this.

He was mentally torn; almost as much as you were, unsure of whether he should walk up and hold you or walk away and give you space. As he stood there, contemplating in the doorway, he realized how much your hysteria reminded him of his time under Mundus--his suffering. He suddenly became afraid, shivering in a terror he'd never experienced for a very long time.

He loved you, more than life itself, but he didn't want to hurt you, or himself, for he was scared of being reminded of the torture he'd endured any further than he already was. But at the same time, he didn't want you to suffer as much as he had--he'd never wish that upon anyone. Still, Vergil wanted to help you; you were his top priority! What you would think when you found out that during your greatest time of need, he just stood there and watched? He mentally berated himself for his weakness and indecisiveness, but regardless of how he chastised himself, he couldn't move. He was frozen in place, unable to do anything but witness your raging panic attack, his heart breaking more and more with every second that passed.

[felixiskandar]

im with the shippers on this one tbqh. like why are they doing all that if carmen and syd arent meant to be

[idle-teen28]

'Character that I...'

al pacino edition

[courtneygacha]

Reflections pt.2

Part 1

Tw: Trauma, Eisoptrophobia, panic attack, hurt/comfort

Caretaker pulled another towel from the suitcase. It was more of a washcloth, but it would do to cover this small space on the counter.

“Whumpee, I’m almost done! How’s unpacking going?”

No response, unless there was and Caretaker couldn’t hear it. They were humming little tunes to themselves as they went along. They prompted Whumpee with another question, not realizing there wasn’t an answer to the first one.

“What do you wanna do for dinner tonight?” Caretaker asked loudly. This time, they noticed the fact that there wasn’t a response and checked the hallway.

“Whumpee?” They called. Still nothing.

Caretaker tried not to think much of it. Maybe they’re in the bathroom and didn’t hear me.

But the minutes went by and the cabin still remained quiet, no sounds of shuffles or footsteps or bags being opened. Caretaker was nervous.

They went down the hall and checked the bathroom to see if Whumpee was there. The light wasn’t on and the door was open. Caretaker could see the glint of the zipper for a moment before turning away and heading to the bedroom.

“Hey, is everything alright-?” They asked, and gasped when they saw Whumpee.

Caretaker rushed to their side, placing a hand on Whumpee’s shaking arm.

“Whumpee? Whumpee!” They knelt closer, shaking their elbows gently. “Talk to me!”

Whumpee still had no response, their eyes zoned out, like they were on autopilot, although Caretaker knew it was something worse than that.

“What could’ve done this in the room? I checked the whole house!” Caretaker muttered, still trying to get Whumpee’s attention. It wasn’t working, and that’s when they noticed the mirror shining from the closet.

Caretaker was angry, scolding themselves for not checking more throughly, and kicked the mirror frame in frustration. It caused it to fall but not break. Caretaker grabbed a blanket from the suitcase and covered the mirror before kneeling next to Whumpee again.

“Whumpee? Whumpee, it’s okay. You’re here. You’re safe. The mirrors gone now, come back.” Caretaker crooned softly, pulling Whumpee into a hug. They could feel their entire body vibrate, and if made them guilty. They weren’t careful enough in checking the house. They felt as though this was their fault.

Caretaker continued to whisper comforting words to Whumpee, until their body became less tense and they began to blink more often, though tears fell frequently as they did.

“I’m sorry…” Whumpee croaked, their voice being raspy from their crying.

“Don’t apologize.“ Caretaker said, running their fingers through Whumpee’s hair. “I should be sorry.”

Whumpee sniffled and rubbed their nose on their sleeve. “I…I heard their voice again… I thought I was with them again…” their voice trailed off as more tears fell from their eyes.

Caretaker pulled Whumpee in as close as they could. “You’re safe, Whumpee. Everything’s okay.” Whumpee buried their head into Caretaker’s chest. They gently cupped their face. Whumpee didn’t like their face being held at first, because Whumper used to do it, and so aggressively. But Caretaker started doing it to get Whumpee to look at them when they were scared, and suddenly they found it comforting. Whumpee needed comfort now.

“They’re never going to hurt you again.”

Taglist: @whumpy-whump-fanfics @bookbutterfly9 @whatwhumpcomments @whumpdreamz @diamond-flavored-whump @zoethehead @annoyinghairdoranchhumanoid-blog @astr0-mj

[moondust-on-the-hijabi]

well that was embarrassing

[kaidanalenkosprmanager]

THE BEST OF PRIORITY: MARS (PART 2)

Featuring: Cmdr. Sophie Shepard, Maj. Kaidan Alenko, Lt. James Vega, and Dr. Liara T'Soni With: The Illusive Man and Dr. Eva Coré Your vision is pathetically limited. You were a tool- an agent with a singular purpose. And despite our differences? You were relatively successful. But like the rest of the relics in this place, your time is over. Mass Effect 3: Legendary Edition (2021)

[daddyplasmius]

hand on my stupid heart flashbacks

this is a No One Knows AU & Full Hazmat AU where Danny ended up in the Ghost Zone & didn't go back into the human world initially because he thought he was dead. by the time he realized he is, in fact, at least half alive, he'd already been missing for at least 2 weeks. will probs never finish homsh sorry. i wrote this a couple years ago in a haze & just haven't been able to finish it because i can't replicate the style, which i find is what i love about this fic the most. it wouldn't be the same without it. posting the flashback introsーwhich are meant to be read between chapters/the actual plot, starting after chapter 1ーcuz fuck it. excuse typos & shit, i never properly edited it, as i forgot it existed immediately after i wrote it original description of homsh: Danny Fenton has officially been missing for over a year. Maddie & Jack Fenton refuse to give up on their son. Sick and tired of the police running them in circles, and the case getting colder by the day, the Fentons turn to their last resortーPhantom. 800~ words (full unfinished fic is 20k~)

-

When Danny woke up surrounded by thick, green fog, and couldn’t breathe without swallowing heavy air that was more like water than anything, he was sure he was dead. The portal glowed behind him, illuminating the pitch darkness around him in soft, yellow, warm light.

He almost went back.

Almost.

He was dead. His parents were ghost hunters. They had drilled into his head from the moment he was born that he could never, ever panic in death. That he would accept it. That he would not be scared. So he would be prepared to be brave in the face of death and would not become a ghost.

He panicked. He did not accept it. He was terrified. And so he woke up in the Ghost Zone.

-

Danny went back through the portal when he saw some ectopuses acting… strange. Like they had an idea in their heads. Like they had a plan.

Which was weird, with animal ghosts. He had only been in the Ghost Zoneーmom and dad called it that, he rememberedーfor a couple weeks. Or, he had already been there for two weeks. Or maybe time worked differently and he was there five minutes, or four years orー

The ectopuses went through the portal and, despite everything, Danny went after them.

While he was busy reeling at being home, the ectopuses immediately attacked dad. Danny was horrified. Jack was overwhelmed. Danny stepped in, in a moment fueled by sheer adrenaline and stupidity, snatching a Fenton Thermos™ off a shelf and releasing his shaky invisibility. The ectopuses didn’t stand a chance. And when they were safely in the Thermos, he slowly turned around to dad, ready for the confrontation. Ready for the “what happened to you?” and the “where have you been?” and the “we’ve missed you”.

Dad scrambled to shoot at him.

Danny fled.

His parents didn’t recognize him.

-

The Lunch Lady attacked when Danny was mourning Halloween.

He’d waited all year. He made a costume that summer. He wouldn’t get to go trick or treating with Sam and Tucker this year. Or any year. For the rest of his lifeーor existence. Whatever.

The Lunch Lady appeared in the school and demanded in straight fury, “Who changed the menu?”

Everyone pointed at Sam.

Danny hadn’t known just how powerful ghosts could be. His parents never told him the specifics. Just that they were dangerous.

This ghost grew and her aura hit him like a hurricane, almost physically pushing him back. It was so strong that the students in the Casper High cafeteria seemed to feel it too.

The Lunch Lady was a much harder opponent than the ectopuses. She levitated meat. She used it as a weapon, and seemed to bring it back to life. She created weird meat creatures that grew sharp teeth and claws out of bones. They were mindless, attacking everything that got too close to the ghost. Danny would have run away without hesitation, if Sam hadn’t been in the crossfire.

Danny fought the Lunch Lady. It was a long struggle, but he caught her in the thermos after over an hour. When he turned to Sam and Tuckerーboth of whom he had to save due to Tucker trying to jump into the fightーall three of them bloody and bruised, he cringed. But a part of him hoped. Desperately.

Surely they would know him on sight.

“Wh-what are you?” Sam gasped at him finally.

Danny flinched as if she had struck him. “J-just… your friendly neighbourhood phantom.”

-

Danny didn’t know what possessed him. Oh. Pun not intended.

He just barely caught the Fentons leaving in the GAV, dragging suitcases behind them. He couldn’t help himself. What on Earth were they doing?

They were going to Vlad Master’s mansion for their college reunion.

It was a whole thing. But something was off. Besides all the adults reminiscing about the 80’s.

Danny sensed ghosts immediately but he couldn’t see anything. Unfortunately for him, Vlad could also sense him. It was two days of Danny staying invisible, and Vladーthe halfa? Is that what Danny is?ーtrying to kill Jack. Somehow, Danny managed to fight off Vlad, not turn back, and without the Fentons getting hurt. His secret intact.

VladーPlasmius, also learned about Phantom. And Vlad hated him. The manーghostーwhatever, seemed to only care about one thingーpossession. Of money. Of things. Of people. He was more ghost than Danny had ever seen. Vlad’s obsession was overwhelming.

Danny couldn’t believe someone so much like himself could be so disturbing.

[gl1tchxr]

[stormyoceans]

my bingo card for GMMTV 2024 part 2 about to be looking like this...................