Anxiety Tw - Blog Posts

that feeling when they make ur anxiety seem like "jst a little shyness" on purpose<<<<<<<<<<<

Hey people, so, this is kinda a last-ditch effort considering that I've got basically no people following me, but maybe some people will see it via the tags or something. Basically, I watched the documentary series "Don't F*ck With Cats" on Netflix earlier, and I just realised that, well, it was a lot heavier than I bargained for. I don't have any idea why I didn't just turn it off at the time. I've got slight anxiety/paranoia issues anyway, and this really isn't helping. My thoughts just keep drifting back to the documentary/the content of the documentary... Which is very dark. Animal abuse, serial killers... etc. Does anybody have any ideas on how to calm down and stop myself from freaking out over this/stop worrying about being murdered by a serial killer/stop my thoughts from drifting back to the documentary? Thanks so much to anybody that can help. :) PS: Please tell me if I missed any tags that would be suitable here/trigger warnings, or if my trigger warning tags aren't up to standard! (I heard that there are different conventions that change every so often, but I'm not up to date.)

there were many things for him to regret in life, but nolan always supposed that came with living. it was impossible for things to be perfect all the time, so mistakes were bound to happen. he could not deny that. could he admit to doing wrong in this instance, though? no, not when he watched her displeasure deepen day by day or when he listened to her complaints of the life she felt locked into. so why the anguish over something he stood by?

seeing her now, getting lost in her eyes all over again, nolan knew what it was he truly regretted. he wished he had made clear what he felt for her back then. shown her that what he had done wasn't just for her, but for both of them. he had been confident it would bring them closer together, not make them strangers to the point where he couldn’t even guess what she would say next.

of course they expected whatever she said to hurt. there was no way to avoid it, but when she spoke, a stinging sensation stabbed him in his chest and almost made him keel over.

a familiar panic began to wrap itself around his neck. he swallowed hard, pushing it down to the pit of his stomach. the acid will eat it away, he thought to himself as a bitterness began to fill his mouth. he refused to believe she didn’t want to ever see him again. if she’d been anyone else, he would’ve let the venom brewing in him to escape and return the pain. with serra, so sweet and so delicate in their eyes however, they couldn’t do it. so they swallowed it down again, the lump in their throat growing.

“i don’t think it’s funny,” he was finally able to get out. i think it’s really fucking sick actually, he almost spits out, but he doesn’t want her to run off and disappear again. he wants his explanation, needs it at this point. so he puts on a mask and pretends he’s fine; he knows how to act after all.

it’s when she stops and faces them that the facade begins to slip. they doubt they’re strong enough to keep it on much longer, so they let her have her way (an easy and natural thing for nolan). “okay. fine. not now,” he surrenders before going onto insist it’s not the end of things. “but we have to talk about this. i’ve missed you.. a lot. i know we can be close again if you only understood, so just… take time to talk to me.”

it’s a performance worthy of an academy award. serra walks away composed and confident, as if the entire situation wasn’t freaking her the fuck out, even as unseen tears stream down her face. it’s surreal?

sure, a part of her always knew that nolan would return to palmview, and perhaps on some level, she had been waiting and hoping for this moment. but, it feels too soon, far too soon. she’s not prepared for it, rendered breathless. 

when serra first saw the news, all she wanted to do was hug him, make sure he was okay. but now, it feels more natural to keep her distance. her confidant, her rock, now a stranger. from a distance, she watches him on the beach, the tide tickling his toes. there’s a calming familiarity that overcomes her, as if she’s watching an old video of their shared time back in los angeles, a faint, wistful smile filling her features.

she takes her time to meet him, her mind racing with a million thoughts of what to say, but none of them feeling quite right. now, only a few feet away, their eyes connect– and she had never envied the ghost crab more, wishing she too, could disappear into the sand. 

i’m really happy to see you, he says. is she happy to see him too? she’s unsure. pondering her words carefully, serra continues walking on the path he started. “i didn’t…” she starts, then falters, her eyes meeting his before looking away. “i didn’t…” again, she hesitates. “i didn’t think i even wanted to see you again.” she finally manages, her words coming out clumsily, in typical serra fashion.

“funny how i've ended up here.” she shrugs and chuckles nervously, the reality of living in his hometown just sinking in. “i can’t quite explain it,” she admits, unclear as to whether she’s talking about her arrival in palmview or her exit from los angeles. “—but, do we really have to do this?” she stops them short, her hand briefly finding their shoulder before she turns to face them fully. “you know exactly why i left, nolan. it's just... hard for me to look at you the same way."

Julia hadn’t meant to fall asleep in the on-call room, really she hadn’t, but what she had intended to do was wait until the little girl she’d been tending to for over a week now got out of surgery. Knowing Rhys was going to be in the operating room was certainly a comfort but that didn’t stop the doctor from wanting to hear the word stable come out of someones mouth before she finally left for the night. However three back to back shifts had caught up with her and as soon as her head hit the regulation polyester pillow she had drifted off. 

Sitting up with a jolt she blinked, looking around in a haze. “Hmm? What? I’m awake. Has someone coded?” Immediately ready to leap into an emergency situation if that’s what was needed, but then her eyes fell on Rhys and she let out a soft breath. “Shit, I didn’t know I’d fallen asleep. What time is it?” Wait, if he was here it meant he was out of surgery - finally she could get the answer she wanted. “How did it go? How is she?” It wasn’t that she was getting too invested, no she just wanted to make sure her job was done properly before checking out because Julia knew when she walked out those hospital doors she would have to detach from what went on inside to further fend of all the stress and emotion that she’d squished down for the last sixteen years for her own good. @tctteredwings

for: @doctorjuliasato location: the hospital

Time was getting on ( which really wasn't anything new ), but Rhys finally found himself at a point where he felt he could actually leave and head back home. He was probably one of the worst people for that, hanging on and on until he finally felt it was okay to leave everyone to their own devices. Of course, hanging around forever wasn't a good thing either, it would leave you worn out and unable to do the job properly. It was a case of trying to find a happy medium.

On his way out, after going through his stuff, he realised he must have left something in the on-call room earlier when checking in on someone, so that would be his last stop today. As he made his way into the room, knocking gently as he did, he found a laugh escaping as he found Julia curled up there. "Hey... Jules," he started softly. "Jules!" He let his voice rise a little on the last. "You ever going home tonight or do I have to drag you there?"

war had left dacey feeling both far too hollow and far too full. the parasitic gnawing that had taken root in her stomach seemed to devour a little more of who she was every day, taking with it everything that made her feel whole and clean and dacey and leaving behind only an increasingly debilitating feeling of despair. there was sorrow and grief, yes, and a resounding sense of worry that was only natural given her sibling's roles in the war, but guilt and shame also - both because she knew she was not the only one to taste loss, and because here, barricaded behind winterfell's walls, dacey had proven herself to be nothing short of useless.

she preferred it at night. even on nights like tonight, when the castle was not-quite empty, it was more hushed. easier to move and breathe and be. at night, it was almost easy to pretend.

tonight was a little different - solely for the presence of sylvi cerwyn. her words brought dacey from her stupor, one that had her gazing pensively at the hearth she sat before, and she nodded a polite greeting. her mouth opened to exchange idle pleasantries, but she paused at the question. she could lie, and say she was faring well, that she was comfortable and at ease. it was what she would normally do. but tonight, she was just too tired to pretend anymore.

"poorly." the admission was a single word, but in it was more of an insight into her mind than she had given anybody in months. dark eyes lifted from the embers to meet sylvi's own, an attempt at a smile flitting across her features before dying. "though in the grand scheme of things, i haven't earned the right to complain." the rare moment of self-pity passed as quickly as it came over her, her face scrunching in an expression of concern. "i should be asking you that question. are you well?"

setting : the feast hall of winterfell, the hour is later and less people are wandering about, by the hearth, sylvi cerwyn spots one of the princesses and approaches her to talk (this is sort of flashbacky since it's during the war) ; starter for @daceystvrk

the walls of winterfell were cold to the touch, frigid upon lady of cerwyn's fingertips as she grazed them upon it's smooth surface as she wandered. sleep did not greet her easily these days, her children had long gone to bed, and there seemed to be a sort of tension that filled the air. so much had already been lost, so much uncertain. sylvi tried not to think of her own husband, of her dear friend brandon, of cassana...

she inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with the smell of firewood, ale, and stew as she entered the feast hall. she was both surprised and not to see others still lingering, mostly women and elder men. many spoke in hushed tones, perhaps either do to the lateness of the hour, or the topics of conversation. surely they all had someone they worried for, too. sylvi only hoped that all of their troubles would soon cease, that things would settle down quickly.

near the hearth, she spotted one of the stark princesses, dacey, the one who had always been quiet, a flower amidst the snowy landscape, frozen in time. she was kind, though, and likely racked with worry. "your grace," sylvi spoke softly as she approached the other, taking the seat next to the young woman, extending her hands to the hearth and flexing her fingers as she felt the coldness melt from her limbs. "how are you faring?" it was perhaps a silly question, but sylvi had always had an approach of getting straight to the topic at hand without talking around it.

for: @owenstark timestamp: early morning location marker: winterfell

it had been so long since dacey stark had a good night's sleep that the circles around her eyes were almost a permanent fixture. no, she spent her evenings in the glow of candlelight, weaving until her hands cramped, her vision blurred, and exhaustion finally overtook her body, usually just as the sun began to peek through winterfell's towers. then, there was only time to sleep for a few precious hours before she was on her feet again, facing another day that she didn't know if she had the energy to face.

there were often nights where dacey could not shut out the cacophony of disjointed thoughts that flitted through her mind, lingering only long enough to leave a lasting impression of worry or dread before slipping away before she had the chance to wrangle it into submission. there had been more nights like that recently, and tonight was one of them. her candles had burned down to stubs by the time the sun had risen. there was little point trying to fall asleep now. winterfell was beginning to awaken. from her window, she could see figures below, assuming their morning duties. instead, she readied herself for the day, and routed herself through the castle.

she had come to see her brother.

she knocked lightly on his door, but pushed it open before awaiting an answer. if he was here, he would be alone. if he was not here, then there was little point in lingering outside of an empty room. her eyes fell upon him, and a small smile curled around her lips. It was a smile of greeting, of warmth, even if there was little joy in it.

"I hope i'm not intruding," she began, hovering in the doorway, awaiting instruction to venture further in, or to turn to leave. "i'm sure you have a busy day ahead of you." her hands were clasped in front of her, but though she stood still, they did not rest, fingers twisting around one another, pulling mindlessly at the already raw skin around her nails. "If there is anything I can do - if you have need of me - you need only ask."

there was once a time when dacey stark would have been the first in line to greet a guest of winterfell. sometimes, she could walk in the shoes of that girl still, the one she used to be, could wear her face, think her thoughts, laugh like she used to. it never quite felt the same as it used to, more hollow, less sincere. there was a constant gnawing in her chest that never quite went away, but some days it was louder than others. more days then most, lately. today, however, it screamed, demanding attention. when it clawed at her insides like this, there was no façade she could put up that would hold. and so, when her brother's men came, dacey made herself scarce. she had little taste for tales of war, anyway.

the only thing that had her resolve wavering was adam himself. the last thing she wanted was for him to think her absence was some sort of personal slight. she was saved from trying to put on a brave face, though, when he himself appeared, as though summoned by her thoughts. she did not smile, though the look she gave him upon his approach was full of warmth. her slender fingers, cool to the touch, wound their way around his, and she squeezed his hand gently. she'd gotten far more accustomed to silence then she'd like to be, but there was something comforting about sharing moments of quiet with somebody you cared for. dacey held on to the quiet between them, nurturing it for an all-too-brief moment, before shattering it when she finally spoke.

"i hear a congratulations are in order," as much as she didn't want him to regale her with tales of battle, she could not let his victory slip by without comment. "i am - very glad to see that you are safe." the words carry an undercurrent of the feelings dacey has yet to speak out loud. thus far, her grief for jon has been a silent, shameful and private thing, kept clutched close to her chest like a child trying to hide something they know they should not have. grieving a brother is a burden she can just about bear. the relief that she does not have to grieve another is enough to relieve even just a portion of that weight. "welcome home."

Closed starter for @daceystvrk Setting: Following the latest battle of the berserker force against Umber followers, Prince Adam Stark and some of his men return to Winterfell victorious once more, set only to replenish supplies. Their stay is meant to be brief before they return to the field of battle.

The Commander of the Kingsguard was back to his family home only for a few days. Before, the lone wolf of House Stark would have focused on duty and duty alone, a soldier's mindset steadily guiding his every action. Now, however, the prince made sure to make good use of his time in Winterfell to be with his wife, to see his brothers and sisters, be with them before he had to march north again and keep writing by the edge of his sword the strong retaliation against the betrayers of the land.

He found Dacey in one of the sitting rooms of the keep. She was there, silent, solitary. All of the Stark siblings mourned for Jon in their own ways, grasping at whatever they could to cope with the grief. He'd held on to rage and the need for retribution; all of the siblings were directing their pain into some sort of action. And his little sister was there alone. Without a word, he walked over to take a seat by her side. He'd been away for some time, and he couldn't help but wonder if Dacey had been grieving alone all this time. Adam reached for his sister's hand, a knowing look in his eyes.

"get out of your comfort zone"

i have no comfort zone

i am literally always uncomfortable