#panic attack m

[flowerkidlove]

does Brooke get panic attacks or something?????

[novalizinpeace]

today in ''why i feel bad for the next generation''

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

yk, its weird being Way Too Aware & In Control of yourself bc technically i believe im having a panic attack. but somehow i am Very Unbothered by this, bc i know whats happening and its illogical. my body's having an overreaction and i couldn't be fucked to join in

[afraidparade]

"A Kinder Reality"

Word count: 3,088 Genre: G/T, Hurt/comfort, Angst Content warnings: Detailed depictions of panic attacks/intrusive thoughts, mentions & allusions to gore, death, and suicide, fearplay, possessive behavior

(PLEASE read the CWs as this one is a bit darker than some of my other stuff! sorry if it gets a bit heavy lolol. i tried to base this off of my own personal experiences, as i often have memory problems as a result of vivid dreams and intrusive thoughts that give me a lot of anxiety. there's also not a ton of hurt/comfort where the giant is the one hurting so i hope this fills that emptiness 👍)

__________________________

Luka’s eyes snapped open, the sudden light he had yet to adjust to making it impossible to differentiate up from down. His fingertips clawed into the sheets around him, as if grasping desperately for purchase on an incomplete thought he held in his hands only a moment prior. What was this? Where had he been until now? It was difficult to recall the details, but the ache of breathlessness in his chest and the icy sweat that saturated his nightclothes was evidence that the experience had been far from pleasant.

He remembered feeling alone, yet surrounded. Helpless, but he wasn’t quite certain of what it was that threatened him. There was a room with chairs and people and…something else. Something that he was desperately terrified of. And it wasn’t that those faceless figures around him refused to respond to his cries and offer him aid, because he didn’t cry at all. He didn’t make a sound. It was a dreadful sensation, sitting in that room and feigning calm, surrounded by those human-shaped husks. There was an overbearing presence behind him: the terrifying thing. Some sort of shadowy monster that sulked in a corner of the ceiling yet simultaneously managed to breathe down his neck. Luka could just feel its predatory anticipation, waiting for him to turn around, or speak, or blink, or any action it deemed unacceptable. He was sure it was there, yet no one else paid it any mind. Could they see it? Could they feel it? Did they even care that it was there? Did they even care that he was there? If the thing lunged down and ripped him apart right in front of their hollow eyes, would anyone even flinch? Perhaps they would feel grateful to the monster for ridding them of such a burden. Perhaps they would all be happier if he weren’t—

Luka pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth and swallowed. Dry. Water, he should drink water. Shapes began to form in the fuzzy white void of his vision, and the man soon recognized the wall of his bedroom. Which meant all those vague and terrible memories had just been made-up. A dream. A rasp of air blew through his chapped lips, as if he was attempting to laugh out of spite. What a cruel joke. He already got a pitiful amount of sleep as it was, and now he couldn’t even be afforded the luxury of feeling rested when he woke up? Well, such was life, he supposed. At least now he wasn’t alone.

At least now…he wasn’t…

Luka froze, and his head throbbed. The space on the mattress beside him was unoccupied. He managed to twist his neck to survey the other side of the room, enduring another sharp surge of pain in his skull. Empty. His lips parted, but he stayed silent.

Wasn’t there supposed to be someone else there?

A third, more definitive pulse in his head caused Luka’s eyes to wrench shut. His hands shot upwards to nurse the pain away, but when that didn’t work, his fingers became more frantic, each scratching at his hairline as if they had a mind of their own. There was some sort of vile growth blocking his airway. He didn’t know where it came from. It felt like the same sort of inky malevolence that the carnivorous presence from before was composed of.

Was this…real? Had he actually woken up? 

He coughed, wheezing around the lump in his throat, panic setting in when he realized he couldn’t breathe. His diaphragm spasmed, and nausea followed soon after. His mouth was open, but if Luka was crying or screaming, he couldn’t tell. His sense of hearing had been reduced to a flat, monotone buzz. 

How could he be certain that this wasn’t the dream? That every memory of having someone beside him, someone that actually cared about him, weren’t just artificial fragments of a bright, fuzzy dreamscape his brain made to protect itself? How was he supposed to know which memories to trust?

A dark ring began to close in around the corners of his vision, blotting out his surroundings like the final scene of an old film. Maybe it was from the lack of oxygen. Maybe it was just a trauma response. But Luka couldn’t bear this feeling, not being able to tell whether he was tumbling or stationary, awake or asleep, alive or dead. If he was alone again. 

Again. 

Again, again, again, it always happened, he always ended up like this. As if he was always destined to be an afterthought to everyone around him. As if it really wouldn’t matter if a monster swallowed him whole. And bitterly, with the last scrap of his consciousness that could form coherent thoughts, he wondered which reality was kinder: one where he’d tasted love and fulfillment only to discover it was never his to keep, or one where he’d never experienced such bitter joys, and never knew the severity of losing them.

Maybe he could wake up in the room with the people and the monster. Maybe then, even if it was for a second, someone would spare him a compassionate glance while that shadowy beast tore into his ribcage and—

“…ka?”

There was something warm on Luka’s cheek. Tears? No. Though it was only now that he noticed their presence, those felt chilly and wet. It was a small pressure, but it radiated familiarity. A shaky, sudden inhale — his consciousness felt so faint, he barely registered it as his own — and a question were the first sounds to break through the fuzzy, intangible blockade around his ears.

“What happened?”

It took several deep, uneven breaths and bewildered blinks before Luka could manage to see just past his nose. A humanoid shape finally came into focus, but unlike the figures in the other room, this one had a face. And, upon closer inspection, wasn’t human at all. Deep, glossy pools of black with white pinprick pupils stared wide at him with concern, and from behind a quivering frown, he could make out tiny, pointed teeth. Reddish horns, an absolute rat’s nest of black hair, and an ill-fitting shirt stitched together by his own clumsy hands, all wrapped up in a three-inch package. The details were too intimate to be mistaken for a dream.

It was Faust. His wonderful, impossible, real Faust.

Luka couldn’t muster the coherence to form words. Aside from the fogginess he felt after finally, truly waking up, he was still parched, and his throat felt bruised from his battle for breath. A hand retracted from his face, the palm damp from the tears it had inadvertently smeared around, and slowly reached towards the confused demon. Faust reached out for it without a moment’s hesitation, causing Luka’s fingers to twitch in surprise. He was real. It was miraculous. He was real.

But that looming dread from before still gripped at his chest unyieldingly. What if one day Luka woke up and he really was gone? How would he be able to bear being thrown from one cruel reality to the next without the reprieve of someone else to comfort him? No, not just anyone else, but Faust. There was no one else. It had to be Faust.

What would he do if he lost Faust?

Luka didn’t know what he was doing. His body moved almost robotically, stuttering every now and then as his brain tried to process how to proceed, all while his unblinking gaze lost focus and bore forward into the same nothingness. His fingers curled around Faust’s body rigidly, and while the demon didn’t protest, he began to shift uncomfortably. The human’s hand pulled back towards his body, his grip unconsciously tightening as it moved, only stopping when his companion was held flush against his chest and there was no space left for his hand to retreat to. 

“Luka, this is— it’s kind of hard to breathe.”

Luka could hear him, so why couldn’t he stop? He didn’t want to hurt Faust. He would never do something like that. But he was so small. Even if daily life with a tiny imp had become routine, it didn’t change the fact that he was so very vulnerable. Ultimately powerless in the grand scheme of things. Beautifully unique, terrifyingly unique. There was no one else in the entire world like Faust. The big, dangerous, lonely world. Yes, it was so easy to keep him in place. It hardly took any effort at all. This was simply a reassurance that he had the means to keep Faust safe. To keep him close. To make him stay.

“Y-your heartbeat is crazy fast right now. Seriously, are you okay? I need you to respond to me, Luka!”

Luka’s chin lowered to brush against the hand trapping Faust in place, and without realizing it, his entire body had begun to curl around that point as well. It felt as though Faust was the very core of his entire person. This was beyond normal love, wasn’t it? This was obsession. Sick dependency. It disgusted him so, and yet his body refused to do anything but curl tighter. Like a boa constrictor wrapping around its next meal. Would he end up squeezing Faust until he stopped moving, too? It would be easy, Luka thought. Not that he wanted to. But it chilled him to know that he could.

“Don’t make me do this, Luka. I really don’t want to do this.”

Ah, this was what it felt like when they first met. The knowledge that he held this impossibly small being’s life in the literal palm of his hand, the understanding that he could take advantage of that, and the searing hatred Luka felt for himself when he did. It was horrible, but it was intoxicating, and he didn’t want it back, but a wretched part of him missed it. When exactly did he manage to overcome this feeling, Luka pondered? Somewhere along the way of falling for Faust? Realizing he’d need to change if he ever wanted Faust to reciprocate? Well, what did it truly matter if Faust reciprocated? Faust didn’t have to love him. He just needed to be here. He just needed to stay. Luka needed him to stay.

“…So be it, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

God, he was rotten. And delusional, too, to think he had actually changed. People don’t change. At least not people like Luka. Destined to be alone, again and again and again and again. He hated being alone. He hated himself. He hated this feeling. He hated that goddamn room from that goddamn dream. What was even the point? Why did he bother trying to fix something shattered beyond repair? What was stopping him from—

“Ca-li-for-nia girls, we’re unforgettable! Daisy dukes, bikinis on top!”

…

What?

“Sun-kissed skin so hot, we’ll melt your popsicle — wa-oohhh-ah-oohhh-oh, wa-oohhh-ah-oohhh-oh…”

Faust’s muffled voice faded after the last vocalization, possibly waiting to see if there was a response. Or possibly due to being out of breath. After that, total stillness descended on the scene. Almost as if someone had merely pushed the power button on a remote and turned off all the static in Luka’s brain. It took a moment for him to process what in the hell had just happened, but after rewiring itself, his brain recalled a certain fact he knew he could always rely on:

Faust was a terrible singer.

Once his lungs finally remembered how to inhale, his body relaxed from its tensed and coiled state, releasing the small demon from his desperate grasp. As his vision slowly came into focus again, Luka inspected Faust’s state worriedly, suddenly horrified that he may have actually inflicted harm on his roommate. He was flushed red from a combination of the larger man’s overwhelming body heat and the intense pressure that likely inhibited his breathing, but other than a few gasps and coughs, he seemed surprisingly unbothered. Which was relieving first and foremost, but upsetting in its own right. He deserved to be upset. He deserved to resent Luka. The man swallowed as he attempted to regain his voice. 

“...I hate that song,” he rasped plainly. He didn’t know what else to say.

“Yeah. I know,” Faust replied, still panting as he glanced upward, “I was sorta hoping that the hate and the shock would overpower…whatever it was you were feeling.”

Luka’s mouth hung agape. Had Faust really hinged both the wellbeing of himself and Luka on…an annoying pop song? And that actually worked? He couldn’t tell if the demon was an idiot or a genius. It was so ridiculous on so many layers that he simply couldn’t think about anything else. Those overbearing thoughts from mere moments prior vanished in a puff of smoke, just like that. Eventually he closed his mouth and allowed a small, warm grin to replace the anguish from before. He never smiled like this before meeting Faust. Funny, Luka thought, how very different his inner demons looked from the miniscule demon that stood before him.

 “It did. Thank you.”

“God, you sound like shit,” the imp grumbled. Luka took the not-so-subtle hint and slowly sat himself upright, fumbling for the bottle of water that he kept on his bedside table. “What even happened? I had only just left to find myself something to snack on, but I turned back when I heard you making weird noises. Next thing I know, you’re suffocating me.”

Luka hesitated as he brought the bottle to his lips. An intense feeling of shame weighed down on his body as he recalled his actions, as well as the thoughts that accompanied them. It was probably better that Faust didn’t know every last detail of what brought his panic attack on…specifically, the thoughts concerning him. Sure, they had roots in the anxieties that Luka harbored in the back of his mind, but in that feverish state they had been amplified a hundred fold. They weren’t his true feelings. Or so he hoped, anyways

“I just…had a nightmare,” he answered simply, taking a swig from the container. Faust’s eyes narrowed, clearly unconvinced that there was no other trigger for such an extreme episode, but he held his tongue. After all, he was in no place to doubt the impact of nightmares. Luka, not wanting to dwell in the uncomfortable silence any longer, continued, “I’m so sorry for putting you through that. It must’ve been scary. Are you hurt?”

The smaller shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s fine. I’ve been through a lot worse.”

Luka wiped at a trail of water that trickled out of the corner of his mouth before capping the bottle. That was right — they had both trudged through hell just to make it to that very morning together, hadn’t they? Faust’s trophy was a back full of scars. Luka’s was a drawer full of pill bottles. It was difficult to liken his own traumatic experiences to Faust’s – especially when the other’s past was still largely a mystery to him – but there was comfort in knowing they could relate to each other on a basic level. That they…weren’t alone. Maybe all the trouble up until then was worth it just to share each other’s company. Of course, it was possible Faust didn’t feel the same way. But he didn’t need to feel the same way. It was enough that he was there. 

Luka sighed and turned to Faust again. Given his state from a few minutes ago, it was remarkable how calm he felt now. Maybe that, too, was thanks to his companion’s presence.

“Did you ever get your snack?” he asked softly.

“No,” Faust huffed with a sharp thrash of his tail. After a pause, the small imp folded his arms and turned his pouting face away, adding with a grumble, “I can’t exactly get to the kitchen in just a few steps like you can.”

Cute, Luka cooed inwardly. It was a thought that he would verbalize on any other day just to watch the resulting adorable tantrum, but for now he figured he’d put Faust through enough.

 “Well then, would you allow me to make a nice breakfast as an apology for earlier? I think there’s enough pancake mix left for one more serving.”

The other’s scowl dissipated instantly, clearly more interested in food than maintaining appearances. “Hell yes! Apology accepted! Put some whipped cream on top and it’s apology double accepted!”

Luka laughed warmly and, after brushing away the last of the moisture that clung to his cheeks, gently extended a hand for Faust to climb onto willingly. Despite him being the one to prompt the action, though, he faltered when his smaller counterpart did just that. Even though he’d been forgiven, this simple act of trust didn’t feel earned. It was only a moment ago that he’d hurt Faust, after all. What right did he have to hold him now?

Seemingly picking up on Luka’s uncertainty (or just becoming impatient after being promised pancakes), Faust craned his neck to shoot an inquisitive glare upwards. “What?” he demanded.

“Aren’t you… I don’t know, a bit too trusting of me right now?” the brunette asked, unable to meet the other’s eyes. “Are you not even the least bit afraid that it might happen again?”

Faust scoffed. “Don’t be stupid. Of course it’ll happen again, idiot.”

Well, Luka hadn’t been sure as to what sort of answer he expected, but it certainly was not that.

“It might not be today or tomorrow, but sure, yeah, it’ll come back. Stuff like that doesn’t disappear overnight. But what kind of demon would I be if I was afraid of one measly human?” he pointed out, flashing a toothy smirk. “I trust you, Luka. And besides, I’ll always be around to knock some sense into you.”

Had Luka not spent all his tears earlier, he was certain there would be some welling in his eyes right then. He gave an earnest smile, a quiet chuckle, and asked, “So singing cringey pop music is your definition of knocking sense into someone?”

“It’s not cringey. You’re just a hardass.”

How fortunate Luka felt now to have woken up. Because truly, how could there be any reality kinder than this one he shared with Faust?

As they walked, Luka hummed a few notes between the pauses of their aimless chattering, before eventually groaning and cursing under his breath.

“Fuck,” he muttered,  “You got that stupid song stuck in my head.”

“Heh heh! You’re welcome.”

[milimeters-morales]

a guy who is just so scared

[teencopandthesourwolf]

.

EXCERPT:

Stiles's love is fiercely scented. Like poetry and moonlight and spice. Like he'll do anything for an asshole who is not even the same damn species as he is. Hell, it even smells like it's real. Derek needs it so much and is so scared of it and knows he doesn't deserve it, even if Stiles's chemo-signals forever scream that Derek is seven shades of wrong about the latter.

.

read the rest on ao3 HERE

[cinnamon-phrog]

I feel too sick to sleep right now, everything's' too cold or too hot and I can't even breathe without thinking I'm gonna throw up

[stewykablooey]

just threw up. he wouldn't even have time for kendall he would have a TODDLER and a TEENAGE GIRL to deal with.... god i feel sick. i love you arian moayed

litcherally like he already has a toddler and a bratty teenage girl to deal with. their names are kendall

[goldiipond]

im feeling very okay about ray

[emerald-hobbit]

I'm Here (You're Safe With Me)

Summery:

While Timely shows off his Loom, Loki is spiraling as he realises who the man on stage is, and what that means. Mobius is a supportive husband.

Aka. My angsty ass recreation of the scene of Timleys presentation

[pool-floatie]

Tall Tales: Part 4

Well here we go! I finally got through all the editing so it doesnt clash with the future story, which was a pain cause I changed a plot point but W H A T E V E R. So yea! Enjoy part 4 💖

Jace moved quickly, gathering materials, he really needed to eat, it was getting bad . . He was very glad to hear that those plants just needed to be boiled, that'll be quick and easy. But.. . .

Jaces stomach growled, his senses heightened for a moment, he could smell all the surrounding wildlife, hear the rustling leaves and scurrying mice,,

" ahh, shit.." jace mumbled

Screw it, he needed to eat...

Jace quickly sniffed out a herd of elk, he cornered a few of them and,, well, ill spare you the details.

Now satiated, Jace continued on his journey to the river, oblivious to the humans wherabouts.

Avril darted through the forest, well, darted as fast as someone who is bruised and hasnt eaten in 6 hours can 'dart' .

They didnt care about the direction, didnt care about other predators, just getting as fucking far as fucking possible from their fucking kidnapper.

And, being ever so distracted, they failed to see the-

*Snap! *

-Rope

Av's leg had been caught, leaving the rest of them dangling 5 feet above the ground

"Shit!" they exclaimed. They began to wiggle their foot and leg, trying to loosen the ropes grasp, but it was tied around their ankle and wouldnt loosen

-well no shit thats what its made for-

They huffed at the stupid sutuation and tried to pull themself up to reach the rope. "gah!" their abs gave out easily, the pain contributing to their failure.

Avril dangled for a moment, cursing at all this bullshit, -who the hell decided this would happen to them!?!? Fuck them !! -

Av let out a primal shout at nothing, continuing to try and wiggle out. They eventually gave up on trying to sit up to untie the damn thing. It was getting darker now, and Av realised they couldnt keep struggling, they were getting lightheaded, hungry, and the blood circulation to their foot was getting cut off. If they didnt get help they would be found by an animal and killed, found dead by whoever set this godforsaken trap, or . . . .

Av sighed and gritted their teeth

" fuck it."

"H E L P ! !"

"H E E E E E E E E L L L L P !"

Jace had been tracking the human since he had come back with water and found it gone, that was about an hour ago.

He sniffed the air again, a faint trail toward the offroad...

Jace knew there was a cabin in that direction, and he should probably just let the human go free, and spare himself getting caught, but....

Just a bit closer couldnt hurt ?

Jace moved through the thinning woods following the scent on the light wind. And then heard something-

Yes yep that was screaming, and it was definitely av, cause who the hell would be screaming that loud this late, unless-

Unless it was in trouble.

Jace could hear the distant cries become clearer as he neared the offroad cabin, he didnt care if he was seen or whatever the hell, he just didnt want the human hurt,, anymore than it already was...

Jace found the source of the shouting, The human had set off a rope trap

"Awwwh~ did you get yourself stuck after running?"

Realising this wasnt a *complete* emergency, He reverted right back to his condecending tone

Av started wiggling again, wincing as their ankle was now red and raw from rope burn

"Gah! Just leave me alone! Ah! Auuggh!" they shouted, they felt tears building behind their eyes, this was so goddamn humiliating!

"Oh are you sure~? I think i saw a puma around here the other day-"

"either of you would kill me! I-I dont even care just do it quickly! Stop fucking t-teasing me!"

Jace paused, it really thought he was going to kill it ?

"Oh, my, darling im not going to- /kill/ you-" jace trailed off

Av didnt care what he had to say, they tried again to reach for the rope, but the violent movement made it push more into their foot.

" aghhh! I - shit!-"

They cried out in anguish, breathing heavily as tears ran up their

Jace took pity on the poor thing and worked silently to try and sever the rope, finding a frayed spot, he gave a tug.

*snap!*

Jace lowered Av into his palm. They scrambled to release their ankle.

Finally free, avril took a moment to try and catch their breath.

They looked around, seeing that they were right back here,

back in the giants palm,

hurt even more than before-

- Avril broke .

their breaths quickened into sobs, they hugged their knees,and wished to fall asleep and wake from this nightmare

[silverfoxstole]

Short and silly little Christmas ficlet I wrote back in 2007:

The Better Part of Valour

There are some places even the Doctor won’t go.

The place was so busy that no one even noticed the arrival of a battered metropolitan police box by the bakery counter. Even the raucous wheezing and groaning that accompanied the box’s arrival caused no comment – everyone had no thought but their own particular goal, whether it be last minute vegetables, a cut-price cake or some chocolates for the child they’d forgotten to buy for. There was little time left – it was every man (or woman) for themselves.

After a few seconds the door of the police box opened, and a head of unruly chestnut brown curls popped out. The owner of the curls regarded the chaotic scene before him for a moment before his pale blues eyes blinked in astonishment, and he shook his head emphatically before disappearing back inside the box.

***

“What’s up?”

Lucie watched the Doctor hurry back across the console room from the door, hands flying to the controls with almost unseemly haste. She’d never seen him reject a destination so fast before – usually he’d pop outside, have a wander round, and get them accused of something before deciding that maybe sticking around hadn’t been such a good idea.

“Trouble. Big trouble,” was his response as he flicked switches and pulled levers, laying in a new course for the ship.

“What kind of trouble? Daleks? Cybermen? My cousin Nick after he’s had too much to drink on New Year’s Eve?”

“Worse. Much worse.”

Lucie folded her arms and watched him skitter round the console. “Must be if it’s got you jumping around like your socks are on fire. What’re you doing now?”

Finally the Doctor stood still, reaching for the dematerialisation lever that would send them barrelling back into the vortex. “Finding us a nice little corrupt regime to topple. It’ll be much safer. I’d rather face down a squad of Daleks and Cybermen combined than go out there.”

“Really?” Lucie whistled. “Is it worse than the Terrible Zodin?”

“Infinitely.”

“Must be bad then.”

“It is.” The Doctor pulled the lever sharply down and the noise of the TARDIS’s ancient engines reverberated through the console room. He threw the switch that activated the – in Lucie’s opinion – ridiculously ostentatious holographic ceiling and breathed a sigh of relief as the familiar swirling maelstrom of the time vortex shimmered overhead. “There. That’s better. Tea?”

“Yeah. Oi, Doctor,” Lucie added as he headed towards the door that led to the kitchen, “Where were we?”

The Doctor stopped between two stone columns. His face was serious. “A terrible place, full of noise and danger. A place running low on stocks of cranberry sauce and after dinner mints. A place where you’d run the risk of losing life and limb in the pursuit of Brussels sprouts.”

She stared at him. “You what?”

“Marks and Spencer’s food hall. On Christmas Eve.”

[luuxxart]

TUMBLR BLOG | COMICFURY

[darkfinch]

concept that is compelling me today: quinn, who is demonstrably not having a normal one, is 100% sure that he is experiencing your baseline average brain situation. blissfully unaware of anything happening with himself. vibing

like, qwat au quinn moves in with an immediately-post-moreau eliot (determined to do the Hard Work Of Introspection, actively practicing self-awareness, trying 2 unfuck his brain) and is like....

"oh shit, eliot's got post-traumatic stress....from.....the traumatic stresses, that sucks man. that's rough. gotta support my new buddy through this....glad i don't have to deal with any of that brain stuff haha guess i'm just lucky! maybe cause i started really young WHO KNOWS anyway it works out great 'cause when i have those weird days where i'm too keyed up to sleep (even with lucky sleep knife under the pillow) and having the out-of-the-blue Post-Post-Post-Job Panics (as all people do) eliot will ALSO be awake to hang out and—"

[royalreef]

(( Merfolk do not see humans as prey, potential or otherwise.

First of all, humans don't look anything at all like how their typical food species do. They're strangely skinny and scrawny, oddly shaped, and clearly not at all intended to be something made to live in the water. Merfolk do have fairly bad vision, so there is the possibility that there could be a shark situation of mistaken identity, but they also don't hunt like sharks, being as they're people who take a lot of caution to ensure that they are hunting something properly and that they will minimize any potential harm to themselves and pain to the animal.

Likewise, if they notice something being off, their first urge would be to investigate first. Merfolk, also like sharks, also tend to investigate things using their mouth first, but, again, they're smart enough to wait a moment before putting something in their mouth. They'd approach first, and even if they do not realize that the human is not a normal animal and in fact a person, this would probably still not result in a bite if the human began to freak out at being approached by a merfolk. This is the most likely case, especially since only very few people now know merfolk exist, but also because merfolk are indeed very large and very dangerous marine predators. Most people would panic at one suddenly getting close, particularly since they wouldn't have been taught any languages said merfolk might be speaking.

Honestly, more than any other comparison for interacting with a different species, merfolk would just view humans as... people? To a merfolk, speech and conversation matter a lot on what is a person versus what isn't, and since merfolk have no other analogs to what kind of animal a human might be, they'd just liken humans to "very weirdly shaped merfolk".

Of course, this is avoiding the political slant, and the fact that another major part of what defines a "person" to a merfolk is their social relationship and structures — but this is what the general gut reaction would be, and it serves a nice comparison against the human gut reaction of merfolk being very large, very dangerous predators similar to lions or crocodiles.

( And lastly... Humans just taste nasty to merfolk. Merfolk tend to have a lot of bone in their diet, but even for them, humans have far too much bone and the meat itself is bitter and foul-tasting. Miranda does enjoy the taste of human blood specifically, and heavily decomposed human bodies do taste much more delicious to them, but these are exceptions, not the rule. )

[gayspock]

nothing more mortifying than a panic attack in an m&s. dude which aisle to the essentials diazepam