#stare and then hyperventilate

[calamitoustide]

james potter as a line cook who blasts songs like Yeah! by USHER in the kitchen at 10 am every single morning and regulus as a server who's just trying to get through his shifts without crying in the walk in

[syrenki]

i wasn't really in your area i came here on purpose in hopes that you might see my text eventually lol this is really one of the most pathetic things i've done

[aguineapigcouldntdothis]

antisemitism is oftentimes extremely traumatic. whether you experienced 1,2 or a few big antisemitic events or a bunch of smaller ones throughout your life (or a combination) it probably negatively affected your mental health in some way. unfortunately not many people talk about the mental harm antisemitism can cause and jewish folks are left feeling like something is wrong with us for experiencing symptoms of traumab

[wrathyforest]

Did we finish the season or the season finished us?

[amurder-ofcrows]

so a thing happened last night. went to bed and i thought i was fine. today? not fine. i went to pick up my anxiety medication refill and the pharmacist told me i looked like i needed it. how are you?

[moodr1ng]

i think its so fun to see how when people are more or less used to horror media it has a vastly different effect on them.. for me personally im used enough to it that i dont get THAT scared of any horror anymore, though as a teen i was very sensitive to it, and tbh while ig id gain a deeper experience of the intended horror if i wasnt desensitized to it, i dont actually like being scared LOL so im fine where im at.

but the thing that i always remember is "the horla" by guy de maupassant, an 1887 horror short story about a guy who is being tormented at night by some sort of presence or being he calls 'the horla' and doubts his sanity as he tries to get proof of the things existence. when i was a kid, my mom would always bring up how she read the horla at 19 and was so completely horrified by it that she couldnt sleep in the dark for weeks. she always recounted just how absolutely terrifying this story was. so eventually as a young teen i read the horla, and i was like.. ok? and? thats it...? it had no effect on me at all, it was basically just a sort of lame ghost story to me.

but eventually i did get to understand that when my mom read the horla, that was the first horror story she had ever read. even after she immigrated to france, i think what she read and watched was still overseen by her parents, and this kind of literature wasnt the stuff she was supposed to read, so she just.. hadnt, presumably until at 19 she ran away and was free to do whatever. and the first time she read a scary story that stuff hit her HARD. its a little funny from my pov to imagine a 19yo being scared half to death by the horla of all things but considering the context its totally reasonable.

so yeah whatever no point to this i was just thinking about le horla again.. and how scary everything was to me when i was a young teen as well

[bogos-bint3d]

sjsjdj i was thinking about this earlier, what do you think undyne’s sleep schedule is like/what type of a sleeper she is?

She definitely wakes up at like 5am to do like training and all that, but she's also just so chaotic so like she never really has a set bed time or whatever 'cause she's mostly doing whatever madness she can think of without really considering if she keeps at whatever she's doing she won't go to sleep until like midnight. She acts like she's absolutely fine with that much amount of sleep because she's trained for stuff like that or whatever, but like, it's very clearly very unhealthy. She does not care

I'm kinda torn, because I can't choose weather she'd: A) be a really heavy sleeper who'd sleep through pretty much anything, or B) extremely alert in her sleep who wakes up from the sound of a slight gust of wind in case there's danger. I think B sounds more like her, whereas A would probably be more likely to be played off as a joke or something

[benoitblanc]

opening the episode immdiately following memento mori with a funeral is quite possibly the most insane thing the writers of this stupid show could have done

[sirnica]

Hshajaahdyuw

In my infinite wisdom as usual, I have not left the house outside of work in weeks. I have socialized once in god knows how long (at my apartment, with one person).

Now, doing one small chore which involved going to the city and went as smoothly as possible, caused me to have a panic attack.

And yet, on Friday, I am leaving for Zagreb until Sunday and then next Friday I'm going to my hometown for like five days.

[iamapoopmuffin]

Go? I don't move from where I had the attack unless someone makes me, especially since the attacks rarely happen at home.

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[imastoryteller]

20 Ways to Show Extreme Fear in Your Writing

As I dive into researching signs of fear for my horror WIP, I wanted to share some of the most compelling and visceral reactions I’ve come across. Whether you’re writing a chilling scene or crafting a character’s panic, these 20 signs of fear can help bring tension and realism to your story.

Physical Reactions

Hyperventilating — sucking in air but never feeling like it’s enough

Chest tightens — feels like a weight or hands pressing down

Limbs shaking violently, knees buckling

Complete loss of muscle control — collapsing or unable to stand

Cold sweat soaking through clothes

Heart hammering so hard they feel it in their throat or head

Tunnel vision — the world narrowing down to one terrifying focal point

Ringing in the ears or sudden deafness, like the world drops away

Dizziness / feeling faint / vision blurring

Dry mouth — unable to speak or even scream

Uncontrollable Behavior

Screaming / sobbing / gasping — involuntary vocal outbursts

Panic run — bolting without thinking, tripping over everything

Clawing at their own skin / chest / throat — like trying to escape their body

Begging / pleading out loud even if no one’s there

Repeating words or phrases — “No, no, no” / “This isn’t happening”

Hiding instinctively — diving under tables, closets, or corners

Desperate grabbing — reaching for someone, anything solid

Loss of bladder or bowel control (for extreme terror)

Total mental shutdown — frozen, slack-jawed, staring blankly

Memory blackout — later can’t recall what happened during the worst moment

[prosypepper]

sensitive ft. toji fushiguro

to be as strong and high-spirited as you are, toji was definitely caught off-guard when he found you crying for the first time.

it didn’t happen on purpose, either. there was no sign as to why you’d be upset, you hadn’t told him anything all day that could even lead to you being so sad, sobbing hysterically into his pillow.

but that didn’t matter. all toji understood was that you were upset, sad, angry, something; and he needed to make it better. so there he stood, frozen in his tracks for a while, an unfamiliar pang in his chest at your cries—the sound alone almost upset him, for some reason.

you didn’t notice toji until he slid into bed behind you, easily scooping up your body in his arms and moving you around to rest on his chest, your arms still grasping the pillow. your cries got even harder for a second at the realization toji had you.

“hey, hey,” toji spoke, calmly, soft, “what’s wrong, babydoll?”

toji’s brows furrowed when you only sniffled and hyperventilated for a minute, chest heaving as you attempted to catch your breath—to no avail. if it wasn’t for you practically melting into his touch, he would’ve thought he was making the situation even worse.

“baby,” toji whispered, waiting for a moment before pressing your head into the middle of his chest, “breathe.” his palm ran over your head repeatedly, taking big, deep breaths of his own in hopes you’d follow after. he could feel your tears soaking through his shirt, making big, wet spots, but at that moment, he cared for nothing more than to make you feel better.

like magic, your breathing began to slow down, sniffles becoming less frequent, the clutch you had on the pillow softening. toji took a big sigh of relief at that. he held you like that for a solid fifteen minutes, gently rocking you back and forth with his body.

yet toji didn’t count the minutes, he just stayed. stayed until you stopped crying, until your breathing was back to normal, until there was no sign of woe in the room. he rested his chin atop your head for a little, stroking your arm with his fingertips.

“you okay?” toji asked, almost awkwardly, when obviously, you were not okay.

“mhm,” you hummed, eyes open and staring at the window next to your shared bed.

“hey,” toji repeated, drawing his head back, your sad, wet eyes attracted to his like magnets, “none of that. what’s wrong?” just the simple question caused tears to well up in your eyes again, but you blinked them away and sighed.

“don’t know,” you said, resting your head on his chest by yourself that time, “overwhelmed, i guess. and i watched a sad movie. everything jus’ got to me at once.”

toji frowned, knowing he had no idea that life was piling up on you—and he hadn’t done anything to help beforehand.

“‘m sorry, baby,” he apologized, pecking a kiss to the top of your head, “didn’t know you were so stressed.”

“it’s not your fault, toji,” you replied, nuzzling into his chest, “i just suck at communicating.”

“that makes two of us,” he paused, thinking deeply about what to say next, “you can tell me whatever. scream, cry, hit me, i don’t care.”

“toji, i’m not gonna hit you,” you giggled, a smile finally creeping on your face—the smile toji had been waiting for since he first saw you so upset.

and for once in his life, with you in his arms, toji thought he was doing something right.

[theo-the-cat-guy]

I am dying of happy

[geneviveleocardius]

crying over movies

and pregnant with simon riley’s baby

the sound of your sobs cuts through the quiet of the house, sharp and raw. simon drops the knife he’s been using to chop vegetables, his heart lurching in his chest. it’s not unusual for you to cry these days—pregnancy hormones have been working overtime—but this… this is different. this is gut-wrenching, the kind of crying that makes his pulse race with worry.

he rushes into the living room, where he left you curled up on the couch watching after sun. the sight that greets him stops him in his tracks. you’re a mess, your face red and blotchy, tears streaming down your cheeks, big eyes wide and glassy as you clutch a pillow like it’s the only thing tethering you to reality.

“love?” his voice is low, calm despite the panic clawing at his chest. he crouches in front of you, his hands reaching out to cradle your face. “what’s wrong? is it the baby? are you in pain?”

you shake your head frantically, your sobs hitching as you try to speak. “n-no, it’s not—” a deep breath, and then another sob escapes. “it’s not the baby. it’s—oh my god, simon, it’s just—”

he watches you, his brows furrowed, utterly baffled. “just what?”

“the movie!” you wail, throwing your arms up dramatically. “it was so sad, simon! and—and then i started thinking about us and the baby and—and—oh my god, you’re never gonna be a single parent, okay? i’m never leaving you!”

his eyes widen at the declaration, and he blinks, stunned. “what tha—?”

“and you have to promise me, simon,” you cut him off, your voice shaky but insistent. “if something’s ever bothering you, you’re gonna tell me, right? we’re a team, and i love you so damn much, okay? you can’t ever leave me, because i’d just—” a hiccup. “i’d die without you!”

he stares at you, his lips parted slightly, trying to process the flood of emotions pouring out of you. he’s used to your mood swings by now—the tears over burnt toast, the laughter that turned into crying because of a stupid dog video—but this? this is a whole new level.

you’re still sobbing, your breaths coming in hiccupping gasps, and his heart aches in a way he doesn’t quite understand. “love, you’re gonna hyperventilate,” he mutters, sitting beside you and pulling you into his arms. you melt into him instantly, your hands clutching at his shirt as you bury your face against his chest.

“i mean it, simon,” you mumble, your voice muffled by his shirt. “i’ll never leave you. you’re stuck with me forever.”

he lets out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling through his chest. “bloody hell, i should hope so. wouldn’t have married you otherwise, yeah?”

“and the baby,” you continue, ignoring his attempt to lighten the mood. “we’re gonna be the best parents, and—and if you ever think i’m not doing enough, you have to tell me, okay? i’ll do better. i swear.”

“sweetheart,” he says softly, leaning back so he can tilt your face up to look at him. your tear-streaked cheeks and swollen eyes might look like a disaster to anyone else, but to him, you’re still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “you’re more than enough. you’re everything. and you’re not going anywhere, yeah? we’re fine. we’re better than fine.”

your lower lip trembles, and more tears spill over. “i just—i love you so damn much, simon. you can’t ever leave me. promise me.”

he exhales, a soft huff of disbelief, before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “you’re unbelievable, you know that?” he mutters against your skin. “but alright. i promise. i’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. happy?”

you nod, sniffling, and wrap your arms tighter around him. “so happy.”

he holds you close, his large hands rubbing slow circles on your back as your sobs gradually quiet into soft hiccups. he’s still not entirely sure how you got from a movie to this existential meltdown, but one thing’s for sure: he wouldn’t trade this chaotic, hormonal, beautiful mess for anything.

[noosayog]

[3:47 pm] ft miya osamu

wc: 700

--

When you slam open Atsumu’s bedroom door and plop yourself onto the carpet next to him, he barely looks up from his phone. 

“Ever heard of knocking?”

You lay belly down on the floor and scream into the worn fuzz of the carpet. 

“Gross. You know our bare, unwashed feet walk on this floor right?” 

He offers you a pillow and you take it, squishing it between the floor and your face. Atsumu waits for your breath to run out. 

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Atsumuuuuu…” you bemoan. “I’m going through a crisis.” 

He says nothing, continuing to scroll on his phone but you can tell you’ve garnered some of his interest. 

“I have a secret. Like one that I can’t tell anyone.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s so shameful. I’ve been keeping it to myself for, like, ever.”

“Yeah, I bet I couldn’t guess what it is.” The sarcasm is completely lost on you. 

“Yeah. You’d make fun of me. It’d be material for you to tease me for a lifetime,” you pause, take a deep breath. “I-

“-have a big fat crush on my brother?” 

You gape. “What?” 

He looks up from his phone. He blink at you, like you’re any simpleton. “You,” he says slowly, punctuating each word, ”have a big, fat, embarrassing, crutching, debilitating crush on my brother.” 

“I didn’t even realize you knew so many big words-”

“What?” 

The two of you freeze up. 

“‘Samu!” Atsumu exclaims. “Thought you weren’t gonna be back until later tonight.”

“I wasn’t.”

He gives no other explanation. You stay still, hoping that if you don’t move or breathe, he won’t notice you. The silence stretches.

“Ohhh.. kay. Well, I better go. You kids-”

You jolt awake at that, in disbelief that Atsumu would flee alone after what he’s done.

“I’ll go with!” You turn and run, making monumental efforts to avoid a dark eyes trained on you. 

You’re about to squeeze past when a hand slams against the doorframe, arm now blocking off your exit. Osamu stares hard at you while your gaze stays glued to the exit beyond, though it’s more like you’re staring at his bicep which is now stationed at your eye level. 

“I’m just gonna go…” you hear Atsumu mumble, ducking under Osamu’s arm barrier, stealing your escape route. 

“Jackass-” you mumble.

“Hey.” 

The low voice comes from right above your head.

“Osamu,” you greet, still staring at his arm. “I gotta go. I have plans-”

A finger comes up to lift your jaw. It’s careful, but still forceful. When your eyes finally meet his, the one finger turns into two which grip your chin in place. 

“Was what Atsumu said true?” 

It takes a lot for you to hold back a stutter. “Sounds like you heard him loud and clear to me,” you say, ready to slap his hand away. 

“I did.”

“Then why are you still asking-” 

“If it’s true,” he leans down, talking slowly. It makes you start to hyperventilate. You need a paper bag or something. “I don’t wanna hear it from my stupid brother.” 

His eyes are mesmerizing, captivating. Not even the many, many years of knowing him dulls the effect of his straightforward gaze on you. You think you hear someone concede, “it’s true.” 

“What’s true?” he whispers. He’s so close you feel his words ghost your mouth.

Autopilot talks. “That I have a big fat crush on you.” 

He eats up the next millimeter of space. 

“Yeah?” he murmurs against your lips.

Suddenly, his neck is caged inside of your arms and you’re licking up his familiar minty breath and surely this all isn’t your doing because your brain is still catching up. 

His smile widens against your lips and you can feel the smugness radiate off him. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t have interrupted, then.” 

That clears the fog. You shove his shoulders away and try to ignore the fact that he doesn’t go very far.

“Why?” you demand. 

He kisses you again. “‘Cause my brother’s got a big mouth.” 

You tilt your head in confusion. Osamu takes it as an invitation to slot his face better against yours. 

His kiss almost makes you forget your train of thought, but that’s okay because he answers your question anyway. 

“And he probably would’ve blabbed that I have a big fat crush on you too.”

[ifithasafandomimapartofit]

I think the reason Zoro constantly eggs Sanji into sparring with him is because Sanji has panic attacks, and physical activity is like…. Really good at working through anxiety because it tricks your brain into thinking your acting on your fight or flight instincts.