#anxiety cw

[purblethinkin]

takes place sometime after season 1. wanted to draw a comic with these two

[idiopathicsmile]

the other day, i was talking to my brother, and he said, "the thing about anxiety is that it tells you if you just follow every single rule it creates for you, then you won't get hurt and you won't hurt the people around you."

(the only problem, of course, is how badly following those rules hurts yourself and the people around you.)

somehow, this turned into writing a lullaby from the point of view of my anxiety disorder, which i'm trying to learn how to ignore a little more. i guess that's kind of paradoxical but even just verbalizing the thoughts i take for granted can help sometimes. (it sort of inescapably sounds like a toxic interpersonal relationship, so warnings for that.)

LYRICS The world outside can be cold and strange uncertain winds, too-certain rain But i'll guard you from the stormy sea all that I ask is you listen to me Stay who you've been, stay where you were let it all pass by, a beautiful blur don't waste time wond'ring who you could be Listen to me, listen to me (x 2)

Scars and stories are for other girls unsinkable types, alive in the swirl You'd snap every sinew in that mess you call a body if you ever tried venturing beyond me So stay where you're put, do as you're told no one will break you, if you learn how to fold Smother the whisper who wants to be free Listen to me, listen to me (x 2) You say the box that protects you has dwindling air Well, have you considered, you're breathing too much? You know I wouldn't say this if I didn't care You know I'll always always always be in touch The walls are dragging inward like a dying star stay were you are, stay where you are What others call inertia I call destiny Listen to me, listen to me (repeat)

[emkini]

This February I want to appreciate the fact that this time last year I was so depressed I wasn't functioning, would have episodes of uncontrollable self-harm, and at a point was one phone call away from emergency hospitalization. I had a small anxiety attack today and it shook me up, but I remember how it was to feel this but so much worse, all the time. I think the fact that I've been doing well enough that a little anxiety rattles me might be a good thing, actually, and I'm thankful to everyone in my life who stepped up to help me when I needed it most and who continue to support me now.

[byeler]

wip wednesday for chapter two of i’ll find myself in the moonlight !

[citrinesparkles]

you had me worried

jason todd x gender neutral reader. 906 words. notes: hi please don't call people if you're trying to keep one or both parties anonymous <3 but for the sake of this little story, please disregard that. just insert bat-tech for anonymity <3 also, this was requested by @definitelydivergent as part of my blogiversary celebration! thank you so much, honey- hope you enjoy :) warnings: anxiety, canon-typical terrorism and violence

"hey, perfect timing. i was just thinking about y-"

jason's agitated voice, distorted slightly by the phone, cut you off. "baby, baby- shh, stop talking. where are you? home?"

his words were surrounded by heavy breathing, crashes, and shouting, a cacophony unsettling enough to distract you from how rude 'stop talking' was. "yeah?"

"thank god," he muttered, before grunting in effort and raising his voice over a clattering noise in the background. "i need you to stay there, okay?"

"is everything okay?"

"no, everything's shit- robin! your six!- and i need you to stay put." he paused for a moment, and you could hear a slam in the background. "please."

"okay," you mumbled, trying to swallow your rising nerves. "are you..."

"i'll play it smart," he answered the unspoken question. another crash. "i'll be careful."

"you'd better."

"i've got to go."

"be safe," you added, worry fully audible.

"see you soon."

and the call ended.

-

the night passed slowly. slower than usual.

you did you best to keep occupied, answering emails and scrubbing dishes and watching videos of a lady playing the spoons, but your mind kept revisiting the short conversation with jason.

the sour feeling in your stomach never faded, replaying the genuine concern in his voice. he wasn't easily rattled- you hadn't heard that tone in a very long time. it was hard to imagine what could have caused it, much less drove him to call you and ask you not to go out. once you had run out of chores and musical entertainment, you begrudgingly gave in, flopped into bed, and turned on the news.

"-left the scene, taking the now-infamous harvey dent into custody once again."

you swore quietly, watching as the camera zoomed in on a trampled black-and-white cookie directly behind the reporter.

"witnesses state that several vigilantes were involved in his re-capture, including batman, robin, and batgirl. as per usual, they have taken off into the night before they could be questioned on the situation."

"thanks, maria. the chilling events of this evening seem to be resolved, thanks to speedy response time by-"

you muted the tv and dropped the remote onto the bed beside you, staring disinterestedly at the man speaking. text scrolled across the bottom of the screen, blandly describing a forked approach to crime- two face had, appropriately, split his attention two ways. one half of his attack had been a bomb threat surrounding a political rally downtown; the other half had been his goons randomly selecting hostages from the streets.

highlighting corruption and random luck simultaneously. it was impressively planned, you could admit that much.

but now, knowing now what had happened, you wondered where jason was.

the red hood's involvement in the festivities going unmentioned wasn't surprising- it was a good sign, really, meaning he was well enough to avoid onlookers and nosy cameras.

but you wondered.

-

you didn't wonder long, soon hearing the window slide open and shut again.

"honey?"

"here!" you hopped out of bed, following his voice to meet him in the hall.

he had already shed his helmet, concern and exhaustion visible on his handsome face as he breathed your name. "you okay?"

"yeah, i'm okay. i stayed put."

"thank you," he mumbled, letting the tension melt from his shoulders. he pulled you in, holding you to his chest with an one arm around your waist and the other over your shoulders. "thank you."

returning the hug was the easiest thing you'd done all day, melting into his hold and rubbing your hands over his back. "thank you for coming back in one piece. are you okay?"

"i'm fine. i just needed to know you were safe." his thumb traveled across the back of your neck, the seam of his glove catching on the collar of your shirt.

"you were the one out there, jason. you had me worried."

he let out a carefully neutral hum- jason for 'i know' and 'i'm sorry'. "we're okay," he said quietly, kissing your head. "we're okay."

you nodded, pulling back to meet his weary eyes. "we're okay," you confirmed, watching some of the tension leave his brow.

to say you had a lot of questions was an understatement. the news had shown you an incomplete picture of what had happened, and the fact that he was so clearly shaken up told you that there was a very big picture to see.

'you had me worried' barely scratched the surface.

but he was home.

everything else could wait for the morning, so instead of asking 'how bad was it' or 'are you okay' or 'why did you seem surprised to see me home, right where i promised i would be', you brought your hands up to cup his face. he immediately nuzzled into your hold, bringing a small smile to your lips. "c'mon, handsome. let's get you out of that suit, okay?"

you slid back, ready to turn and head back into the bedroom and set out clean pajamas, but you were stopped in your tracks by him grabbing at your waist. "wait- wait. can we just..." his fingers bunched in your shirt, gently pulling you back to him before finishing his sentence in a whisper. "be here for a minute?"

your questions came back with a vengeance, but he looked shaken enough already, so you just slipped back into your place against his chest and held close.

it could wait for the morning.

[undeadunalive]

Btw I'm aware that I don't chat to people as much as I used to. Over the last year my anxiety took a drastic turn where I pretty much regressed back into really struggling to go outside the flat or being okay with being seen. I'm still extremely paranoid about how I look, hence why I don't post photos of my full face anymore, and while I'm more able to talk to people in person and actually look at them when interacting, I do still stutter and panic a lot. Even last week I went down to check the mail, my neighbour looked over at me, I froze, panicked and legit just ran back upstairs. 😂 When it comes to online, I get the exact same thing but you can't see that the reason I'm not replying is because I've panicked and ran away so it just comes across as me just not wanting to interact. I really want to work on this this year and feel more able to chat to people without being so afraid, but please be patient with me. I promise you that it's nothing against you, I do want to chat it's just something I've been struggling with.

[salembutnotthecat]

Novemetober (Rescheduled) | Day Ten Substitution

@monthofsick | day ten: sick with an audience motion sickness

tw for emeto, anxiety, motion sickness, brief description of crime scenes at the beginning

Not many things bothered Vanessa McAllister.

Vanessa McAllister was an EMT. She was a police officer. She was a behavioral analyst. She saw blood, guts, and gore on a regular basis. She victims with heads bashed in or riddled with bullets. She'd been to highway wrecks. She had crawled in through smashed windows, she had come to murder scenes and domestic calls.

There were few things that bothered or scared Vanessa McAllister.

Except the family of Willow Atkinson. They scared her.

Well, scared maybe wasn't the right word. But when Willow had mentioned Vanessa meeting them someday, that scared her.

Vanessa couldn't shake the feeling of dread that had been creeping up on her ever since Willow had first mentioned the trip to meet her family and attend her brother Walker's season opener race. She had tried to mask her anxiety with excitement, but now, as they drove down the winding roads toward the small town where Willow's family lived, Vanessa's stomach churned with nerves.

As they journeyed down the winding roads, Vanessa attempted to distract herself with one of her crime novels. She figured immersing herself in a world of fictional crimes and investigations would provide a welcome escape from her mounting anxiety, as weird as it may be. But, she always was fond of making fun of the poor executions in books. However, try as she might to focus on the words printed on the page, her mind kept drifting back to the impending meeting with Willow's family.

She couldn't help but replay scenarios in her head, imagining all the ways the encounter could go wrong. What if they didn't like her? What if she said or did something to embarrass herself in front of them? What if they saw through her tough exterior and realized just how nervous she really was?

Willow didn't talk much about her family. Vanessa was sure there was probably some strain on the relationship, there had to be. Vanessa lnew what relational strain with family looked like, she lived it, so she never pressed Willow on it. But, it was understood by both of them that Vanessa needed to meet Willow's parents at least once before the two were set to marry. Vanessa would, in time, introduce Willow to her dad. But, probably not her mom. She really didn't want to take Willow to a maximum security prison. Even though Vanessa knew she could protect her, and knew Willow could protect herself, the idea of her sweet and mostly innocent fiancee entering a maximum security facility was almost laughable.

Vanessa glanced over at Willow, fidgeting with her engagement band, who was humming along to the radio, seemingly oblivious to her partner's inner turmoil. How could someone be so calm and composed in the face of such a daunting prospect? Vanessa couldn't help but envy her fiancée's seemingly unshakeable confidence.

But try as she might to emulate Willow's cool demeanor, Vanessa couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at her from within. The closer they got to their destination, the more her stomach roiled with nerves.

Suddenly, the car swerved around a particularly sharp bend in the road, jolting Vanessa out of her thoughts. She gripped the door handle tightly, her knuckles turning white as she fought back a wave of nausea.

"Shit, sorry," Willow said, "No clue what was in the road."

Vanessa shook her head, "No, no it's fine." He voice sounded tense.

"Hey, you okay?" Willow asked, casting a concerned glance in her direction.

Vanessa forced a tight smile. "Yeah, just… not a fan of these winding roads, I guess."

Willow reached over and squeezed her free hand reassuringly. "We're almost there, Nessie. Just a few more hours. Do you want me to stop at the next exit? We could fill up the car and you can take a breather, maybe get some water or something? I think the next one is like, five miles out?"

"Sure," Vanessa said, nodding, "I can run in and get us something to drink?"

Willow nodded, "Yeah, that sounds good."

As they approached the next exit, Willow guided the car smoothly off the highway and into the gas station parking lot. Vanessa felt a wave of relief wash over her at the prospect of a brief respite from the claustrophobic confines of the car.

"Here we are," Willow said, pulling up to one of the gas pumps. "I'll fill up the tank. You go ahead and grab us something, okay?"

Vanessa nodded gratefully, eager to escape the confines of the car for a few moments. She pushed open the door and stepped out into the crisp air, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves.

Inside the gas station, Vanessa decided to take a moment. She felt sick, but maybe if she just splashed some cold water on her face or soemthing, then it might calm her stomach down a bit. She pushed open the door and stumbled inside, collapsing against the sink as a wave of dizziness washed over her.

Closing her eyes, Vanessa took slow, deep breaths, willing herself to calm down. But despite her efforts, the feeling of nausea persisted, gnawing at her from the inside out.

With a frustrated sigh, Vanessa splashed some cold water on her face and forced herself to look in the mirror. She could do this. She had to do this, for Willow's sake if not her own. She didn't want to make the trip any harder for herself or Willow by getting sick..

Feeling slightly more composed, Vanessa made her way back to the front of the store, grabbing a few drinks and a snack for Willow before heading back out to the car.

Willow was just finishing up at the pump as Vanessa approached, a concerned frown on her face. "Hey, you okay? You were in there for a while."

Vanessa nodded, offering her fiancée a weak smile. "Yeah, just needed to use the bathroom. Here, I got you a drink and some snacks."

Willow's expression softened as she took the items from Vanessa's outstretched hand. "Thanks, Nessie. You didn't have to do that."

Vanessa shrugged, trying to play off her earlier panic. "No problem. Just trying to be a good partner, you know?"

Willow smiled, reaching out to squeeze Vanessa's hand. "You're the best partner I could ask for, Nessie. Let's get back on the road, yeah?"

With Willow's hand clasped firmly in hers, Vanessa felt a surge of determination coursing through her veins. She could do this. She could face whatever challenges lay ahead, as long as she had Willow by her side.

"So what is your brother doing?" Vanessa asked, hoping that maybe, possibly, talking would help her feel better. Or at least distract her from feeling so bad.

"Season opener race," Willow said, "He does motocross professionally. This is the start of the season. Like Novak, when he plays his first game of the season."

Vanessa nodded, "Yeah. Okay, makes sense."

"Yeah, our parents didn't exactly like it," Willow said, "But he loves it. So, I'm happy for him."

"But it stresses you out," Vanessa commented.

Willow nodded, "Of course it does. I work in an emergency room. But, he lives his life how he wants, I live mine. And my parents will feel whatever they want about it."

Despite the conversation, Vanessa couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom that hung over her like a dark cloud. And as they continued their journey, the sense of dread only intensified, until it felt like she was teetering on the edge of a precipice, one wrong move away from plunging into the abyss below.

Willow glanced over at her, concern etched into her features. "Hey, Nessie, you okay?"

Vanessa forced a weak smile. "Yeah, just a little queasy. Must be the winding roads."

Willow reached over and squeezed her hand reassuringly. "We're almost there. Just hang in there a little longer, okay?"

"Wills, pull over," Vanessa forced out, "Please."

As they rounded another bend, Vanessa felt the nausea intensify. She pressed a hand to her mouth, willing herself to hold it together. But it was no use. Willow pulled over immediately. With a groan, she pushed open the car door and leaned out, retching onto the side of the road.

Willow reached over, rubbing Vanessa's back carefully.

"Ah, okay, yeah, there it is," Willow murmured softly, her heart aching for her fiancée.

Vanessa moaned softly, tears stinging her eyes as she struggled to regain control of her rebellious stomach. "I… I don't want…"

"Better out than in, Nessie," Willow said, her voice gentle but firm. She knew Vanessa hated feeling vulnerable, especially in front of her. But she also knew that sometimes, it was necessary to let it out.

Vanessa tried to comply, but her body seemed to have other plans. Wave after wave of nausea crashed over her, leaving her weak and trembling.

"Good girl, get it out," Willow murmured, offering words of encouragement as Vanessa continued to retch. She wanted to wrap her fiancée in a comforting hug, but she knew better than to risk getting too close in Vanessa's current state.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the waves of nausea began to subside. Vanessa slumped back in her seat, panting heavily, her face pale and sweaty.

Willow handed her a bottle of water and a pack of tissues, her eyes full of concern. "You okay, baby?"

Vanessa nodded weakly, accepting the water and tissues with a grateful smile. "Yeah, I think so. Just… nerves, I guess."

Willow squeezed her hand gently. "We don't have to do this if you're not up for it. Your health comes first."

But Vanessa shook her head stubbornly. "No, I'll be okay. I want to meet your family. And I wouldn't miss Walker's race for anything."

Willow smiled, her heart swelling with love for the strong, brave woman sitting beside her. "Okay then. But if you need anything, just let me know, okay?"

Vanessa nodded, a flicker of determination in her eyes. "Okay. Let's do this."

[kurosmind]

Putting under a read more for potentially upsetting talk

So uhhh is it normal to feel like if I set foot on that plane I Will Die. Strong gut feeling and all. Is it just anxiety? Idk idk

[thewolveswolf]

man idk what’s going on but i keep getting really intense anxiety at 2am, followed by insomnia

i’ve been triggered as all hell the last couple of days so i can only assume it’s that, but it’s like,,, cutting through my chest so viscerally it’s difficult to breathe???

the overthinking is eating me alive, my abandonment issues just abt have me pinned by the throat, i’m hypervigilant and i want to completely shut down and run away. over things that rly aren’t that big of a deal???

ig that’s the thing w trauma. i’m violently oscillating between “i am being ridiculous this is so insecure and small and stupid” vs. “no i’m right, something terrible is going to happen and i need to run”

its rly rly awful. i wish i wasnt like this. i wish therapy was making a difference for this quicker. i feel like such a burden;;;

[thefreakandthehair]

you ever get so anxious that you start actually folding the laundry you’ve been putting off while sipping chamomile tea because if you don’t actively do something, you’re gonna crawl out of your skeleton? or is it just me? 💀

[idiopathicsmile]

telling an anecdote when you've got both ADHD and anxiety: sorry if i already told you this. and sorry if i already apologized for having told you this. and also sorry if i've also already apologized for apologizing for having told you this. oh and additionally sorry if i

[commander-krios]

A Shimmer of Gold

Fandom: Andromeda Six Pairing: Damon Reznor/Traveler Rating: Teen Summary: Cursa brings up some old wounds... and some new ones. Words: 4000 Additional Tags: Sexual Humor, Swearing, Banter, Blood, Minor Injuries, Anxiety, Flirting, Sexual Tension, Budding Love, Mutual Pining

Read on AO3

~~~~

Damon hadn’t seen their resident princess since the ship had left Cursa, except for the brief moment when he’d run into her in the hallway. She’d taken her music box, and stolen a surprise hug, before disappearing into her room for the next several hours. Meanwhile, he hadn’t stopped thinking about her and Cursa and everything since.

He tossed and turned for a few hours before finally giving up on a nap, escaping his room to haunt the ship, trying to calm his racing mind. His blood itched beneath his skin, a crawling sensation he couldn’t escape no matter how he paced through the halls. Usually, he could kill someone to relieve himself of the jitteriness, but there was no one here he wanted to kill.

Except maybe carrot head. 

Vexx was in the infirmary now, being tended to by Ryona, and for a brief moment Damon wondered if he could get away with sticking his head in, throwing around some insults. Then the thought of being poisoned by the lovely Tilaari made him rethink his plan. 

It’s always the nice ones.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Damon reversed direction, heading for the kitchen instead.

The galley was quiet when he entered, the emergency lighting dimmed for the night cycle. But he wasn’t the only one plagued by nightmares of Cursa, it seemed.

Astrea was sitting at the table, a cup of tea in her hands as she stared at the cracks in the metal, a faraway expression on her pretty face. Her silver hair was piled on top of her head, strands falling from the knot and brushing her shoulders and neck, some even tumbling down her back. She wasn’t wearing her normal clothing, the things she moved comfortably in during the day. Instead, she was dressed in a pair of black leggings that looked similar to what Aya wore most days. The white button up shirt that she practically drowned in looked like an older one of June’s, and for a brief moment, he had to suppress the yawning demon inside of him.

Despite the clothing style and size, Astrea almost looked regal, even as she sat there against a backdrop of grey metal and fluorescent lights. 

At first, he intended to turn around and leave her to brood. It was easier than the alternative. But he found himself moving closer, letting his boots make noise on the floors. He usually loved spooking her, but he doubted she would appreciate it tonight. Especially after what happened to them on Cursa… or more specifically who had happened.

But he could still have some fun.

Coming up behind her, he boxed her in with an arm on either side, hands gripping the edge of the table, leaning close enough that she’d be able to feel his chest nearly brushing her back. His mouth hovered near her ear, breath ghosting across her cheek.

“You look like you need something harder to drink than that.” He whispered, a smile curling his lips when her hands tightened around the cup in her hands.

The music box he’d returned earlier in the evening sat in front of her, open but silent. The little ballerina spun, blue light illuminating her face, casting shadows along the walls. A pretty trinket that held nothing but ghosts.

“As if you’d follow through.” She snapped, breathless despite being irritated. “That makes you the worst kind of tease.”

“You have no idea what kind of tease I can be, Princess.”

She sighed and closed her eyes, fingers brushing the Kitalphanite music box before closing it with an audible click. They sat like that for a heartbeat, then two. Resting her hands flat on the table, she breathed silently, and Damon noticed the slight tremble in her fingers. She was so hauntingly sad, a beautiful conundrum of soft edges and sharp words. The sun encased in a moonlit package.

Trailing a finger along her shoulder, Damon’s smile widened at her sharp inhale. No matter how sad she was, or how angry, she couldn’t resist his charms and he felt a little of his anxiety recede. He continued his perusal down her arm, circling gently around her elbow before his fingers closed around her wrist. 

She gasped, jerking away from him so suddenly she nearly fell from the chair. That’s when he noticed it, the makeshift bandage barely wrapped around her forearm. It was a pathetic attempt at dressing a wound, the ends of the cloth tattered and falling apart. 

And stained with crimson.

She stood as fast as she could, her foot catching against the chair, and Damon’s hand darted out to grab her shoulder, steadying her until she untangled herself.

“You’re bleeding.”

A flash of anger as she shrugged his hand off. “I’m fine.”

“How long were you hiding this? Since Cursa?” He grabbed her wrist and lifted her arm, the bandage falling off to reveal the wound in her forearm. 

It wasn’t deep, nothing to get upset about in the grand scheme of things. Hell, he’d had worse in the past. It wouldn’t need stitches, but it bothered him how easily she refused help. As if she wasn’t a part of the crew by now. As if the rest of them wouldn’t give their life for her when she seemed so quick to give up hers for them.

“I got nicked during the training with Aya.” She said, trying to pull her arm away but his grip was like iron. “It’s barely a scratch. Doesn’t even hurt.”

Damon stared at her, eyes hard, trying to break her with his gaze alone. When she didn’t even flinch, he pressed the pad of his thumb against the cut. She gasped in pain and he released her, letting her cradle her arm to her chest. Fury burned in her eyes.

“Liar.”

“Prick.”

There she is. 

Damon smirked, glad to finally see some fire return to her golden eyes. “Astrea, if you were interested in trying knife play, you only had to ask.”

She rolled her eyes, turning away from him but he saw the blush before she could hide it. Good, he could still get to her.

“I don’t want your pity.”

His fingers itched uncomfortably. He wanted to reach out and take her hand, but decided the risk wasn’t worth it. Their friendship was already fragile. The brief touch of her hand during their trek down the Cursan streets was no doubt a mistake on her part, her fear giving her enough courage to seek comfort from the closest person. But he didn’t deny that he wanted to touch her again, to feel her cool bioluminescent skin against his, to take comfort in her the same way she did with him.

“Pity?” Damon snorted, waiting for her to look at him. This time there was hesitation in her gaze. “You need to get that taken care of before it gets infected. And Ry will kill me if she finds out I let you run around with one of Bash’s grease rags as a bandage.”

Astrea fought a grin and he felt a small victory at that. “Afraid of doctors, Damon?” 

“This one, I am. She grows enough poison to kill the entire K’Merii clan. It’s better to stay on her good side.” Avoiding Astrea’s hand, he wrapped his fingers around her uninjured forearm, tugging her along behind him into the hall. Even with the sleeve of the button up shirt as a barrier, touching Astrea felt like he was putting his hand in an open flame, searing him from the inside out.

“Where are you taking me?” 

“The infirmary. Where else?” He had other ideas, ones that involved much less clothing, but he didn’t particularly want to be bled on at the moment. It was a bitch to get out of fabric. And there was a lot that they still hadn’t talked about.

Astrea planted her feet, refusing to move until he stopped to face her. “I can’t go there.”

The terror in her eyes made him pause, biting back the sarcasm that was second nature to him. So she was still thinking about Cursa. And carrot head.

Damon didn’t need much of an imagination to know what Astrea probably saw when she closed her eyes: the sneer on Vexx’s face when they’d found him on Cursa, the deranged anger in his green eyes, the viciousness of his words to her in his makeshift cell…

Fuck, this was a complication they didn’t need.

He didn’t know what compelled him to do it, a momentary lapse in judgment or maybe his dick really was making the decisions lately. At her words, he nodded before leading her in the opposite direction. The itch beneath his skin returned when he paused outside of his room. This… he shouldn’t do this. No one came into his room but him. The best option was for him to go in, get the first aid kit, and bring it to her room.

He turned suddenly, unexpectedly, and Astrea ran into him, smacking directly into him before she realized what happened. Her free hand, the one not still caught in his grip, grabbed the front of his shirt to keep herself from falling on her ass, and she teetered for a moment. He tightened his hold, pulling her against his chest, and she blinked up at him, confused.

Her small form fit perfectly against his and it took everything inside of him to move away from her, to let her stand on her own two feet, his hands tightening at her waist briefly.

Whatever she saw on his face made her frown. 

“Damon- are you okay?”

Damon didn’t know what to do with his hands so he brushed his fingers through his hair, feral grin on his mouth as he released his hold on her, leaning against the closed door of his room. He hated how his chest ached, helpless to do anything but offer an inadequate sort of comfort. 

Sarcasm it was then.

“Worried about me, Princess?”

She slanted her eyes slightly, suspicious at his sudden mood change. For a moment, a million different things passed behind her gaze, questions she no doubt wanted to ask or comments she wanted to make. Instead, she shrugged, giving him a small smile. “No, I’m only wondering why you live in a storage closet.”

“Funny coming from someone whose room was storage.” He shifted away from the door, hands in his jacket pockets as he glanced down at her. She was absurdly short but it was cute in a teacup sort of way. When her nose scrunched in annoyance, he had to resist flicking it. “Come on, let’s get you fixed up.”

He hit the panel to his room, waiting for the brief moment for the door to hiss open. The interior was cool, dark, simple: exactly the way he preferred it. He paused a few feet from the door as Astrea hovered on the threshold, eyes wide like she was an animal caught in a hunter’s crosshairs, unsure what her next move should be.

It was strangely adorable.

“You’re letting the air out, get the hell in here and close the door. And don’t touch anything.” Damon turned away to retrieve the medkit from his dresser, placing it atop the desk and opening it to look for the necessary supplies. Bandages, ointment, some alcohol wipes. 

He tried to ignore Astrea as she walked the perimeter of his room, eyes pausing on the few things he kept. Like the knives that were displayed along the walls, the shelf of books above his bed, the holo-pads on his desk. The bed that was still made and unslept in. Her eyes took in every detail about his personal life, judging him based on what she saw instead of what she knew. Irritation curled darkly in his stomach. 

“Sit down.” He snapped harshly, hating how she was hovering by the books.

She glanced at him not in fear, but in concern. As if she had something on the tip of her tongue that she wanted to say. He didn’t particularly want to hear any criticism from a goddamn princess about his choice in decor. Especially since her room had been a barren wasteland the last time he saw it.

“What? Did you have a problem with the curtains? Or maybe the sheets? Care to tell me how to make the room less gloomy?” His eyes flashed angrily in her direction, hating how even now, he still felt like that little kid on Cursa, the one who wanted so much but didn’t feel deserving.

Silence followed his words and he gripped the container of wipes a little too hard, nearly cracking the plastic. A rustling of fabric, a shuffling of feet, and Astrea appeared at his side, fingers brushing against his hand. He didn’t hesitate to curl his fingers around hers, tugging her closer.

Her voice was quiet, the air circulator almost drowning her out when she spoke. “I wanted to know if I could borrow a book. I miss being able to read whenever I want and… well, you have some I might like.”

Lifting an eyebrow, he glanced at her curiously. She watched him with eyes like a golden dawn, a small grin on her dark lips. “Is this your idea of foreplay, Princess?”

The responding blush was worth it, a little of the bioluminescence in her skin making her glow. It was stunning how easily you could read a Tilaari. The glow never lied.

Using the moment to his advantage, Damon pushed her into the chair near the desk. Grabbing the wipes, he knelt in front of her, gripping her wrist and straightening her arm. The bleeding had stopped but the cut was red around the edges. It was already on its way to becoming infected. Great.

With a practiced ease of one used to doing these sorts of things, he smoothed the cloth down her arm, cleaning the injury thoroughly, meticulously. She hissed at the contact, immediately attempting to pull her arm out of his grip. He only tightened his hold on her. “Stop moving.”

“Is that an order?”

Damon glanced up, trying not to smile at the cheeky tone. His fingers danced along her arm, delighted that she shivered in response. “Does someone have a control kink? I didn’t think you had it in you.”

A smile curled her plump lips and he had to forcibly stop himself from leaning closer.

“You don’t know much about me, now do you?”

A surprised chuckle left him. Oh she was coy. “Be careful what you wish for, Astrea.”

He finished bandaging her up, with a clean bandage this time, eliciting another shiver when he touched her wrist. He waited for the inevitable twitch of her mouth or flutter of eyelashes. He’d never admit it to anyone, let alone Astrea herself, but he enjoyed seeing her dazzling smile and the softness in her gaze whenever he looked at her. Whenever she noticed him in the room. 

“I know it probably won’t mean much to you, but you handled yourself well.” He double checked the bandage, making sure it was secure. The last thing he needed was the entire thing to unravel while he flirted with the pretty Tilaari. “With Zane.”

“I barely did anything.”

“You did more than you had to.” Satisfied that she wasn’t going to die from infection, he stood to put the medkit away when he felt a brush of fingers against his hand again.

He paused, fingers curling around hers, the discomfort in his skin easing slightly. Astrea was stronger than he’d taken her for and that was his mistake. But Alisa… Well, she was right. Astrea cared about him for some stupid reason, looked at him most days like he put the stars in the sky instead of snuffing them out. And fuck- he cared about her too.

He wasn’t sure what to do with that.

On top of all the shit she was already going through, he didn’t want to mention how things went down on Cursa, with the K’Merii or how the knife he’d given her hadn’t done shit to protect her, how it felt to see her fly at Vexx in a rage, that same knife held at the wrong angle in her hand, and how easy it was for Vexx to disarm her… or how Damon’s heart had jumped into his throat, the distance between them too large to save her, but there was no avoiding it now.

“Astrea-”

Fuck. He didn’t want to do this.

Those big gold eyes glanced up at him, completely unsuspecting of where his thoughts had gone. She’d seen so much violence in the last few weeks, the kind that would shrivel the soul of a lesser person. But Astrea… she wasn’t afraid of what was coming. She wasn’t afraid of him, even when he didn’t deserve her understanding, her kindness.

So selfless and yet… she was scared of Vexx. 

What was it about carrot head that left her shaking, terrified to the point that she couldn’t even close her eyes for some rest? Even with an entire crew to keep her safe. 

“Can I ask you a question?”

He never thought he’d be the one to ask that.

“You can ask me anything you want, Damon.”

His lips twitched at that. She really didn’t want him to take her up on that. She’d never stopped blushing if he did.

Clearing his throat, he tried to dispel the awkwardness with a grin. 

“What is it about Vexx that scares you? If he wanted to kill you, he could’ve done it on Teranium. None of us would’ve been the wiser.” He released a tight breath through his nose, managing to glance at their hands still entwined in the space between them. “He was never stable to begin with, but I don’t think he wants to hurt you.” He snorted at the thought. “I doubt he can.”

The joke at Vexx’s expense fell flat, not that she seemed to notice. Her gaze was focused on the wall in front of her, as if she saw something there that wasn’t grey metal. Damon could imagine the horrible things she saw, he still saw nightmares if he slept for too long.

“I’m afraid of what I’ll see in his eyes. That what we had at the palace was nothing but a game to him.” She shut her eyes, dropping her grip on Damon’s hand. He felt colder without her touch. “It would… it would destroy me.”

Oh. 

Oh.

Well, shit.

Her violent reaction to Vexx and how heartbroken she was after their chat in the storage room cell made sense now. He’d tricked her into trusting him while plotting to murder her family. To help Zovack overthrow the royal family, to get rid of her too. Damon was used to fucked up shit on Cursa. Hell, he’d done some of it. But to trust someone with a part of yourself, a part of your heart even, Damon couldn’t imagine that sort of betrayal.

His stomach twisted, an uneasy feeling creeping into his chest, making the air a little more difficult to breathe. Unable to look at her, he packed the medkit again, ignoring the new thought that lingered in the back of his mind. The one that said he should go to the infirmary and promptly punch Vexx in that big nose of his.

“You really cared about him, huh?”

The chair creaked as she shifted her weight. “Yes. I had no one except Nerissa for so long. And when Vexx came along…”

Her words trailed off, sitting heavy in the silence. 

“And now?” Damon prompted, hating how heavy his chest felt at the thought of Vexx with Astrea. “What are you going to do?”

“I… don’t know.” She stood, the air moving when she stood, walking towards his bed, staring at the view of the stars out of his window. His eyes followed her, watching as she nervously twisted the hem of her shirt between her fingers. “I can’t imagine life without Vexx, but he did something awful.”

“It wasn’t his fault.” Damon leaned against this desk, crossing his arms over his chest, waiting for the queasy feeling to pass. He wasn’t surprised when it didn’t. “And I knew carrot head before all of this shit. He might be an asshole, but I can’t see him being unnecessarily cruel.”

The rest of the sentence stayed his tongue. How could he when it’s you.

Astrea let out a sigh, brushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear as she turned to face him. When she finally looked at him, really looked at him in the dim lighting, her eyes shone like sunlight, a shimmer of gold, warming and ensnaring parts of him that he long thought died on Cursa. 

“Thank you.”

Well, that was unexpected.

Her freckles were like constellations across her face, her skin glowing as she smiled shyly, eyes dropping to an empty spot on the floor in front of him. Everything about her was a mystery, from her past to her present, but one thing that wasn’t was what her grin did to him.

“For what?” 

“For not sparing my feelings.”

She… wanted to thank him for that? She puzzled him more every day he knew her. He’d been a bastard to her since the day they’d met and yet… she was here with him. That counted for something.

“When, in the short time you’ve known me, have I spared anyone’s feelings?”

“It’s why I-” She stopped herself, blushing before pushing on through her embarrassment. He couldn’t help the smile that appeared. “I trust you. You don’t coddle me or treat me like I can’t handle the tough things. You’re honest.” She glanced at him with a sly look. “Most of the time.”

“You make it sound like I don’t care about you.”

“Do you?”

More than you think. More than I should. 

Astrea must’ve sensed his hesitation, or maybe she read something on his face and in that case he needed to stop letting her affect him so much, because she stepped closer. “I know it hasn’t been easy, but if you need a friend, Damon. I’m here.”

Before he could rethink his actions, he tangled their fingers together, squeezing gently, trying to bring some comfort to her. Or maybe just himself. “I’ll be there if you want… when you go see carrot head. If you want to, that is. I know seeing an old boyfriend is weird enough-”

She smiled as she stepped closer, that persistent glow of her skin nearly blinding him in its radiance. “Vexx was never my boyfriend, Damon.”

He hated how his heart clenched at her words, hope reigniting in him… for what? He didn’t want to dissect it with her staring at him like that. Because he didn’t know what he was capable of.

“Good. He doesn’t deserve you.” 

When her grin widened, he had to close his eyes before he died of embarrassment. “Damon- you do care.”

With her hands still in his, he pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her, feeling her settle comfortably against him. With his lips near her ear, he whispered a threat. “If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you.”

She laughed, her breath coming in puffs against his chest. She tightened her arms around him slightly. “Why do I doubt that?”

With a soft laugh, he buried his face in her hair, mesmerizing how every inch of her body was pressed against his. On Cursa, he already knew he was in trouble when he felt the first brush of her hand against his. There was no doubt now that this little stowaway was more important to him than he ever thought possible.

“Damon, the secret softie.” Astrea teased, fingers tickling along his spine. “Who would’ve guessed?”

He could, with all honesty, claim that it was her fault. And he found he liked that fact.

[robobee]

had to X out of a fic because the character goes "..help.." when having a panic attack and I was overcome with rage at the very IDEA of asking for help while having a panic attack. i would do the feral cat move of twisting my entire body to bite a person if they tried it on me i would sooner explode than ask for help

[ashtraysystem]

i've hit that point near the end of the semester where i can't eat AND i can't sleep so i'm just constantly a ball of anxiety with little hope* of not being anxious, hungry and exhausted for the next two weeks.

Something i've found helps a little tho is the blanket that smells like my partner bc a) the smell is comforting, and b) it encourages me to breathe regularly and not start hyperventilating/being so tense that i forget to breathe in the first place.

*note that i didn't say /no/ hope, bc i am infact hopeful that i will be able to relax at least a little at some point eventually. bc i believe in myself and even when my body is being dumb my brain is really smart. mostly.

[citrinesparkles]

nighttime nerves

jason todd x gender neutral reader. 1,001 words. notes: 🥴 warnings: anxiety, associated irritability, trouble sleeping, brief mention of food.

it was four in the morning, and you were pretty sure the humming of the air conditioner was going to be the final straw for what remained of your composure.

you were just trying to sleep.

careful, measured breaths- in, held, and released- had helped to ease the tumbling feeling in your stomach, but now your focus had shifted from the rise and fall of your chest to the rattling of the vent in the wall.

bullshit.

it was bullshit, all of it. and you were tired. and you just wanted to go to sleep so you would have a fighting chance the next day, and instead you were fighting the urge to take the baseball bat from jason's side of the bed and smash the vent in on itself.

sure, it wouldn't make it any quieter, but it was starting to sound more and more cathartic with every passing moment.

at this rate, jason would be home by the time you fell asleep, and that would mean at least half an hour of watching him get settled and making sure he was okay and soaking up his presence like he was the sun and you were a starving tree before you could actually go to sleep.

a wave of sudden yearning swept through you, making you screw your eyes shut as hard as you could. you clumsily reached for the spare pillow, tugging it to your chest and clinging to it with every ounce of strength you had.

maybe if you used all of your strength up hugging the pillow, you'd exhaust yourself to the point of sleep. maybe you could just... force your anxiety out of your body, by making it so tense that there was no room in your muscles for worry.

it actually seemed to make your nerves worse, and now you could hear your own heartbeat in your ears, which was somehow more frustrating than the damn air vent-

a rustling noise cut through your thoughts, catching your breath in your throat as you strained to listen.

"aw, shit," jason's frustrated grumble was so quiet you almost didn't hear it, but there it was- he was home.

and he sounded much better than the air vent.

you sat up, your death grip on the pillow loosening some as you squinted through the dark room at the doorway.

it felt like eons passed before his silhouette appeared. you hadn't heard him move from the living room, but considering the hour, that didn't surprise you much.

he probably assumed you were asleep, you realized with a wry smile. asleep like you should be.

"i don't suppose you're sleep-staring."

"i wish."

he sighed, trudging towards the bed and leaning over it to kiss your forehead. "everything alright?"

"anxious. and everything's too loud. i want to rip the air conditioning out and throw the vent cover into the street just to watch someone run it over with a truck."

"i see," he muttered softly, pulling back and bringing a hand up to cup your cheek. "will you be okay if i go shower?"

"mhm. you can't get in bed like that."

a quiet chuckle found your ears, making you smile slightly. "i don't think the shower will be any quieter than the air."

you nodded, not bothering with a clever retort. not having the energy. "i know."

"okay. i'll be quick. do you need anything?"

"are you okay?"

his thumb rubbed your cheek gently. "that's not an answer, y'know."

"jason."

he sighed again. "just a few scrapes."

"and?"

"that's it- oh." he paused, thumb slowing for a moment as though he was lost in thought- or, if you had to guess, taking stock of his body. "i think my arm's bruised, but it doesn't hurt. the scrapes are the worst, and they're nothing i can't clean up on my own, okay?"

you nodded again, gently nuzzling into his hand. "okay. glad you're safe."

"i'll be back in a few."

his hand trailing away from your skin was expected, but it still left the area feeling cold and empty.

you flopped back down on your side of the bed, listening to him grab clothes and make his way into the bathroom.

he was right, the shower was just as loud as the air conditioning had been, and you spent the ten minutes it took him to scrub the night off of him staring at the ceiling and wondering how you could feel so awake when your entire body was begging you to fall asleep.

the water stopped, and you rolled to face the door.

another ten minutes passed, filled with the quiet noises of him getting dressed and getting food.

you passed the time trying to guess what he was eating based on the few noises that traveled from the kitchen to your ears.

you didn't bother asking when he walked back in, silently offering you his cup as he brushed his teeth.

he disappeared while you took a few small sips of water, returning a few moments later to take a sip of his own. "you want any more?"

"i'm good."

he hummed, setting the cup on the nightstand and sitting down next to you. "bedtime?"

"bedtime," you sighed, leaning against his shoulder and enjoying the soft scent of his body wash.

"bedtime usually involves lying down," he pointed out gently, amusement clear in his voice.

"you have a comfortable shoulder."

"c'mon, scoot over." he nudged you slightly, and you obliged, shifting back from him and letting him lay down. once he was settled, he patted his shoulder, moving his arm up to create a space for you.

you slid forwards, laying down next to him. you curled into his side and rested your head on his chest, bringing a hand up to reach for his.

your hands met over his stomach, fingers intertwining and his thumb tracing yours. "i've got you."

for the first time that night, you felt secure.

his even breaths lulled you to sleep soon after.

[edandstede]

i’d love to see joel open up about his anxiety and panic attacks (or for ellie to figure it out after witnessing it first-hand) and ellie to help him work through it. she’s smart, and she’s grown up in this world, and i have a feeling she’d know how to bring him back down - it’s another thing that would just make them stronger as a team, to know that this thing joel is terrified will get someone else killed is actually something they can try to manage together. with that trust, with ellie understanding and being able to assist and take action when necessary instead of being unaware of it, they’ll be better off, not worse (as is the case throughout their journey)