Tumgik
#emotional distress
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Armand Cambon (1819-1885) "Too Late or The Letter" Oil on canvas Located in the Musée Ingres Bourdelle, Montauban, France
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mosneakers · 1 month
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part 2 <read part 1 first, here>
Sunglo: You've been crying. I notice you've washed the smell of smoke off.
Coni: [Voice strained] Glo, baby, I'm tired.
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He reaches to touch her arm, but she proceeds past him.
Sunglo: Then let's not drag this out. Where is she? What happened to her?
Coni: She's gone, Sunglo. [Keeps walking]
Sunglo: Gone? Concept—wait! Get back here!
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Coni sits in front of her vanity table, while Sunglo stands behind her, exerting every effort to steady his emotions.
Sunglo: [Calmly] What do you mean she's gone, Concept? Coni glances down at the gleaming ring Sunglo gave her, passed down from his great-grandmother.
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Coni: There was a malfunction that resulted in her combustion. She was destroyed. I'm sorry. You trusted me with your best bot and I failed you.
Sunglo: [Shakes head vigorously] No, that's impossible. Give me a detailed incident report if that's truly the case.
Coni: Stop, I just lost someone too. I'm in no position to do that right now, please.
Sunglo falls silent, stunned.
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Sunglo: Coni… If there's something you're not telling me…
Coni: [Voice sharpens] WHAT, SUNGLO? What are you going to do? Hm?
Sunglo: I'll find out. I can access her data, her surveillance. I'll figure it all out on my own, Concept. If I have to, I will.
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Coni looks up at him with a sympathetic frown, her fingers tracing the collar of his shirt. A soft chuckle escapes her lips, though in her ragged and worn-out voice, it sounds more like a whimper.
Coni: [Sighs] No baby, you won't. Sunglo: Sorry?
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Coni: You won't. That's the thing. You'll never find out. You're the smartest man I've ever known, but I'll always be one step ahead of you... thanks to my genetic advantages. I destroyed Cecilia. I had to. And If I wanted you to forget all of this, I could make that happen with the snap of my fingers. But I'm just so tired of this game. I'm so tired of hiding from you, my darling.
A tear falls down Coni's cheek, against all efforts to stop it. Sunglo's stomach churns as a faint blue aura begins to emit from her skin; the same blue aura that comes from Aurora when playtime is cut short, or she doesn't get the toy she asks for. Everything starts to fall into place.
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Sunglo: No... [Shakes head, tears forming] Concept... you're scaring me...
Coni's eyes mirror the tears welling in his. She tries to vocalize "I'm sorry," but only manages to mouth the words, her voice failing her. Sunglo: This can't be real. I feel sick. Is this real? Coni: I... Do you want me to show you? ...Myself? My real form?
Sunglo: What? No! Those things, they—[lowers voice] they violated me, Con... And you? You're really one of them? Did you help them?
Coni: NO! Mod, no. I would never do that to you, Glo! I would never hurt you. I'm not like them. I was raised here in Strangerville. I don't do what they do, okay honey?
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Sunglo: What do you do, then? Lie and manipulate? And apparently destroy? Why? Why'd you do that to Cecilia?
Coni: She… she knew too much.
Sunglo: Oh, It all makes sense now. You were protecting yourself. Coni: I— [stops herself]
Sunglo: I think I'm gonna be sick... I should go.
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Coni: Baby, please… Wait, just come sit down. We can fix this, okay? We can get back to our normal happy life! We can fix Cecilia. We can fix us.
Sunglo: I… I think I need some time to think about this.
Coni: Think about what? Stop, you're scaring me, now! What are you saying, Glo? We were supposed to be—this life we made for us… it's perfect. Our love is perfect.
Sunglo: It was perfect. You destroyed it. It was a lie, Coni. You lied to me.
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Coni: PLEASE! I'm the same Coni you've always known. We were supposed to get married, Glo! You just proposed. You gave me Agnes's ring, I know that means something special, please!
Sunglo: Keep the ring. But— I think we need to call off the engagement for now.
Coni: Call it off? What are you saying? What does this mean for us? If you don't want to marry me then you don't want to be with me, either! [Sobbing]
Sunglo: I just need time, Coni.
Coni: What about our family and friends? Erwin? He definitely won't be able to handle this. Are you going to tell them I'm an alien so that they all hate me too?
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Sunglo: Of course not. You tell them when you're ready. And for what it's worth, they'll always love you. I'll always love you, Concept. Okay? I… I just know I'll never be able to reconcile, and I… I just need to think about whether I can live with that or not... forever.
Coni: [Sniffles]...S-so this is goodbye, then?
Sunglo: Only for now.
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fever-increaser · 2 months
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𝗠𝗮𝗻𝗶𝗳𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗦.𝟬𝟭 𝗘𝗣.𝟭𝟮: 𝖹𝖾𝗄𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝖻𝗂𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗌𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝗒𝗉𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗆𝗂𝖺. 𝖡𝖾𝗇, 𝖦𝗋𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝖬𝗂𝖼𝗁𝖺𝖾𝗅𝖺, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖢𝖺𝗅 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗏𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽𝗌.
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thehareswears · 1 month
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Hating everything about existing so bad that I can practically hear my soul tantruming like an angry child
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laurzzz · 2 months
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RSCB (Celebrity AU) - CHAPTER 6: Nebulae
This fic is only visible to registered users on AO3.
Word Count: 10.2k+
Chapter Summary:
She faces back at you, “N-now you can e-enjoy all these good lemons without w-worrying they’ll go bad soon.” Another chuckle escapes you, not quite understanding what granny’s trying to say to you. “What? I don’t get it.” “Y-you have already gotten o-over the hardest part, dear. E-everything in y-your past had only ‘bad lemons’ b-but now you’ve gotten rid of them.”, she hums, turning her vision back to the sea with such a serene look in her face. “N-now you should enjoy the g-good lemons with your f-friends.”
A/N:
This chapter features an existing AUs and fic in the DCA fandom: Robo-Boyfriends AU! This is it, the final chapter! A lot of things happen here and FAST so prepare yourself >:3 Robo-Boyfriends AU fic can be found HERE! Please read the tags and enjoy. Not beta-read, we die like Y/N’s past. All mistakes are on me. Chapter Warnings: Heavy Angst, Heavy Swearing, Emotional Distress, Verbal Fighting, Strong Arguments, Unhealthy Parental Dynamics, Heartbreak, Betrayal, Physical Abuse, Injuries, Heavy Drinking, Violent Breakdowns, Implied Infidelity
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always-reading · 1 month
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crimson rivers spoilers
omg they revoked the two victor rules and reg can’t kill James
this is nauseating I’m gonna cry
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papayabrain · 2 months
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take my mind and take my pain
a Carlando whump collection by papayabrain
16. Drink Spiking Part 2 - Aftermath
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Summary: Carlando wake up the next morning and deal with the aftermath of drink spiking following Carlos’ first win. Follow up to Ch. 3.
Rating: T
Word count: 2,496
Warnings: mentions of non-consensual drug use, memory loss, vomiting, mentions of medical tests, police presence, and some emotional distress.
Read on AO3 🧡 | or read below👇🏼
~
Waking up was horrific.
A mess of dense fog and rhythmic agony slammed into him as he stirred, and he found himself automatically screwing his eyes up against the barrage of senses that followed.
Too bright. Too hot. Too soft.
There was a hand in his hair, and he flinched, though he didn’t understand why as it was such a familiar touch, accompanied by a familiar scent.
Why was he so on edge?
“Hey,” Lando whispered, “you’re safe, it’s okay.”
Safe?
He forced his eyes open, having to blink several times and attempt to rub the sleep away before he could focus more. His head was still oil sludge thick, making everything process at snail’s pace. He breathed out harshly.
Lando looked how he felt. There were deep lines on his forehead and Carlos wanted to reach up a hand to caress them away, but his arms were heavy and stayed curled up by his chin.
“What happened last night? You look so worried, are you okay? You’ve never said that to me before.” His words didn’t come out correctly, his mouth barely obeying him, making it difficult to talk.
Lando kissed his head. “I’m so sorry, baby, I can’t understand you. English, please.”
Lando had said the last bit in Spanish.
Oh.
English? Shit.
He tried again, taking a few breaths. “You look worried. Are you okay, my love?”
“I should be asking you that,” Lando said quietly. The hand was back in his hairline and this time Carlos relaxed into the touch. Lando’s hand was cold, the inviting cold-side-of-the-pillow type cold. Lando always ran colder than him, it was why he always wrapped himself in layers no matter the weather. Carlos loved it, it meant Lando melted into him for cuddles.
They lay facing each other now, he could feel Lando’s legs entangled with his, except there were layers of clothing in the way. But Lando wasn’t wearing anything that he could see, other than probably boxers, he was certainly shirtless. Carlos, however, wasn’t. He was wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants, the clothing clinging to him but not uncomfortably so. It was cosy and safe. He did feel a bit overheated though.
He didn’t remember getting dressed for bed. That was abnormal for him. He and Lando usually slept without clothes, Lando sometimes in a t-shirt and shorts after a bad mental health day.
How drunk had he gotten? Must have been one heck of a night.
Lando’s other hand cupped his face and Carlos closed his eyes again. “How are you feeling?”
Carlos frowned, trying to get his brain to reveal to him what there was to worry about. He didn’t like the tone Lando was using. Lando was anxious.
Carlos shook his head. “I don’t know. Lando, you’re scaring me. What happened? Why am I wearing clothes?”
Lando simply stroked a thumb across his cheek. “How much do you remember?”
Carlos tried, he really did, screwing up his face and wracking his brain as hard as he could.
The race. Silverstone. The podium.
The euphoria.
His eyes snapped open. “I won?”
“Yeah, you did!” Lando grinned at him. “Congratulations, baby! Formula 1 Grand Prix Winner. I’m so proud of you.”
Formula 1 Grand Prix winner. Flashes of the race replayed themselves behind his eyes, shining through the fog. Pole position. Red flag. The restart. A second chance at keeping the lead. Fighting for all he was worth. Safety car. Green. Ignoring team orders and fighting Charles for the lead. Chequered flag.
He didn’t get blackout drunk very often, but his first race win was as good an occasion as any. It didn’t explain why Lando was brimming with anxiety though.
“Why can’t I remember anything else?”
Carlos hated how Lando’s bright smile immediately disappeared, replaced by chewing on his lip, tears of pain and regret shining in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Carlos. We went out to the club; you weren’t even drinking much, and you got spiked. Rup’s coming by in a bit as you need to be tested for evidence. They reckon it was a roofie. Seb helped so much, honestly, took charge of everything. I was a right mess. Still am really.”
He mumbled the last sentence like he hadn’t meant to say it aloud. Carlos couldn’t have that.
“Come here,” he beckoned, forcing his arms to open up and rolling onto his back, inviting Lando to curl up on his chest.
Lando shook his head. “What, no - I’m supposed to be comforting you!”
“You are, baby, trust me. Now, come,” Carlos insisted, his arms beginning to drop from fatigue.
Lando gave him an unsure look before carefully placing himself where Carlos wanted him, the familiar comforting weight calming him even if his head was still like tar. He wrapped his arms protectively around Lando, who clung to him, getting comfortable and taking some deep breaths through his nose. Knowing Lando was taking comfort from him relaxed him in turn, his screaming instincts satisfied even if he couldn’t remember what had happened the night before. Lando had clearly been out of his depth, as was Carlos in this entire situation.
As they lay there together, Carlos stroking a hand through Lando’s curls, he wondered if it should scare him more than it apparently did. Getting drugged in a club without his knowledge and not being able to remember anything of what happened the following day should surely terrify him.
He always made sure he was as careful as possible with his drinks. He’d heard horror stories before but had thankfully never experienced it, either first-hand or indirectly, and from Lando’s reactions alone he wouldn’t wish it upon anybody.
Anything could have happened to him.
That thought had him squeezing Lando even tighter in his arms. He wasn’t sure what had happened, though he trusted Lando who hadn’t mentioned anything other than him getting drugged and Seb helping them out. He assumed Seb must’ve caught on early and taken action to ensure Carlos and Lando’s safety.
He’d have to thank Seb later on.
Their peaceful rest didn’t last long, as after a short while, Carlos began to feel weird. With his brain being full of thick fog, it made identifying and processing the feelings much slower, but he recognised the sensations and managed to give Lando enough of a warning to shift out of his arms.
Carlos moved as fast as he could, but he barely made it three steps out of the bed before his knees buckled, and he was crashing to the floor vomiting into a bin that magically appeared in front of him. Lando was there too, he couldn’t see him, but his ears registered his voice whispering soft words, a hand gently rubbing across his back.
“I’m calling Rupert, okay?” Lando said, a slight shake in his voice that Carlos hated hearing. “He’ll help look after you. You’re burning up. Come on, let me take the sweatshirt off you.”
Carlos wasn’t much help, his limbs barely obeying him as Lando spoke to Rupert while dragging the grey sweatshirt over his head and off his arms. He was feeling incredibly dizzy now. The carpeted floor looked invitingly comfortable.
“Hey, stay awake for me, yeah, baby?” Lando was saying. “Rup’s coming. He’ll help get you better.”
He tried to find Lando’s hand, his fingers blindly grabbing onto whatever he could reach, though from Lando’s yelp, it was probably his leg. Carlos hadn’t meant that. His hand was soon moved, and then fingers interlinked with his and squeezed. Lando found him.
Then he was vomiting again. Except nothing was coming out. His throat burned. His head throbbed. His body felt like a furnace.
“I’m here, Carlos, shhh.” Lando kissed his back. “I’d get you water or something, but I don’t want to leave you until someone else is here.”
Carlos could feel Lando trembling, and he loathed it, wishing he didn’t have to see Carlos like this. He knew, stupidly, if it was reversed he would do the exact same thing, and part of him was grateful Lando wasn’t letting him suffer alone, but he also despised how Lando was having to shoulder this.
Rupert appeared then, accompanied by Gianni, Ferrari’s team doctor. Carlos recognised their voices, and he could sense more bodies surrounding him on the floor. He couldn’t keep up with them as they fussed around him, concentrating on not falling flat on the floor and blinking black spots out of his vision.
He was pleased nobody was trying to get him to move. He felt Lando shift behind him and coax him into leaning back against him, supporting his weight as Rupert and Gianni poked and prodded him. There was a cold towel being pressed to his forehead and he realised it was Lando, cuddling him from behind and talking quietly to him. It gave Carlos something to focus on amongst the chaos, his brain only recognising Lando as a safe and steady tether amongst the whirling hurricane he was trapped in.
When he was finally allowed to drink from a bottle of water, he almost choked on it from swallowing too fast, but Lando yanked it away with instructions for him to drink in slow sips, giving him space to breathe and his brain to process what to do. The cold liquid was a heavenly relief to his burning throat, and he wanted Lando to pour it all over him.
“Not sure the hotel staff would appreciate mopping up a water fight. I’ll gladly shower with you after all this though. Although, a lovely romantic bath is probably a better option.” Lando rested his chin on Carlos’ shoulder, gently placing a kiss against his neck.
“Sounds much better than a hospital,” he managed to croak out.
Rupert lightly nudged his arm to get his attention. “No hospitals for now. Paramedics cleared you last night, but unfortunately, there will be a Police visit for further tests and yours and Lando’s statements. We can monitor you ourselves over the next few days, allow you to rest and reset.”
“The next race?” he asked. He couldn’t for the life of him remember where they were supposed to go next.
“Red Bull Ring,” Lando whispered into his hair.
“We’ve offset your flight until Thursday, we’ve got a story ready to excuse you for missing media duties if you’re not fit in time. But I’m confident we can have you physically ready. We’ll take it at your pace, Carlos. There’s no pressure for you to race- “
Carlos sat up, fully prepared to argue. Lando’s arms tightened around his waist. “Ay, no, I cannot-”
“-I know, I know, you don’t want to miss it, and we’re progressing as if you’re going to race, alright? I just want you to know that whatever you need to do to recover from this, we’ve got your back.”
Carlos sighed, relaxing back against Lando. He knew Rupert wanted the best for him, it was his job to help Carlos be as prepared as he could. Carlos just couldn’t conceive the thought of not racing. They all raced when sick because they were stubborn beasts. Nobody willingly gave up their seat because of illness. It would take Carlos being dragged out of the paddock unconscious for him to give up his seat to a reserve, even if he wasn’t completely back to his usual self by the weekend.
“Lando?”
“I will have to be there for media day, and I might have to fly the night before,” Lando said bitterly. Carlos didn’t like that.
“I go with him,” he stated. “Or he comes with me, I don’t care. Just make it happen.”
Rupert nodded. “Okay, deal. Now, are you ready to get off the floor? We’ll take it slow to avoid you passing out.”
Carlos personally thought passing out would be easier. He felt Lando laugh wryly into his shoulder blade.
~
It was a terrible day.
After a bath that was much quicker and less romantic than he would’ve liked, he did feel a bit more refreshed. Lando bundled him into more comfy clothes, ones that were definitely not his as they smelled like Lando. The quadrant branding was probably the biggest giveaway there, but Carlos’ brain was still working overtime to process anything to care much beyond feeling protected.
He was drug tested regularly as part of the sporting regulations but this time, knowing it was going to serve a purpose and come out positive for whatever he’d been spiked with, it had his stomach twisting.
Lando stayed by his side the entire time, from the tests Rupert and Gianni were able to handle themselves, to the trip to the local police station for further official tests. The only time they were separated was for giving their statements about what had happened, Carlos unable to be much help other than proving the effects of whatever he’d been drugged with.
He sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair, twisting his hands together and pinching the skin of his wrists with his fingers beneath the hoodie sleeves, the sensation helping him to focus some. It was frustrating to fight through the thick oil sludge inside his head, trying desperately to remember anything, who had spoken to him, who had offered him anything, but at least the officers he spoke to were patient, if unsympathetic. He was just another rich and famous entitled person, after all, probably deserving of what happened in their eyes. To teach him a lesson.
Once all the necessary tasks were done, Carlos was desperate for a nap. He wasn’t able to eat anything, but Rupert had him sipping electrolytes throughout the day. Lando had to field several calls from their families, whom Carlos loved dearly and appreciated their worry when they asked after him, reassuring them he was okay.
His mamá was crying when he spoke to her and his papá, both of them overjoyed at his race win. Carlos had mostly forgotten about that, and he hated how something so monumental had been overshadowed by something so trivial. They said they would come and see him in Austria, and he felt a little more weight leave his chest.
When they got back to the hotel, the room had been visited by housekeeping and cleaned up, including fresh sheets and towels, and Carlos wanted nothing more than to sleep everything off.
Lando helped him strip down to his boxers, take some paracetamol, and drink some more electrolytes before they were cuddling under the crisp cool duvet, some of Carlos’ favourite music playing from Lando’s phone.
Carlos knew Lando was talking sweetly to him, fingers stroking rhythmically across his skin, but he didn’t take a lot of it in as he was asleep before the end of the first song.
He was safe and looked after; he could finally let down his guard.
When he woke up crying in the middle of the night, Lando held him as he let it all out.
~
<< Ch. 15 - Losing a Seat | Ch. 17 - Separation Anxiety (Omegaverse AU) >>
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loveyourlovelysoul · 8 months
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hypervigilance may originate from in our childhood: we were harshly criticized or gaslighted, punished, rejected (our inner critic never let us or what we do be enough); we couldn't feel able to feel safe, loved and provided (we may feel like our needs are too much and neglect them if others cannot meet them); we lacked physical comfort and connection (we feel unsafe both emotionally and physically, anxious and lonely, often not knowing how to soothe ourself); we had to live under lot of stress (we lived and keep living on survival, always looking out for danger in anything and anyone).
to try and get out of that, we can try and recognize how our hypervigilance manifests (does it have a specific daily pattern or it's triggered by something); understand what our mind and body need to be able to relax so to integrate it into our self care; do whatever makes us ablet to feel safe or create a safe space for us; be patient as we're re-learning how to regulate our long-time distressed nervous system and keep practicing. always ask for help to professionals if you need though
(instagram)
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thesoulesscollection · 4 months
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Ellie & Henry; An Unbreakable Bond
Hello. I don't have much in the way of request but I do have two ideas all involving Ellie so likely separate oneshots
#1: An alt ending to an existing scenario or your own scenario where Ellie dies and Henry witnesses it (Think of it as Ellie's version of the "Valiant Hero" ending) the circumstances are up to you it could be Henry and Ellie on their own, them being members of the tophat clan (or Henry as the leader) or them being the good guys with Charles possibly in the story I'm fine with either route
#2: Henry after escaping the wall stops and with hesitation turns around and heads back for Ellie feeling a twinge of guilt for using her and leaving her behind
This one was a lot of fun for me to write even if it took me a while. Down below are the tags for each prompt;
1) Tw/Tags: Toppat Recruits, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Little To No Comfort (Depends On How You See It), Major Character Death, Blood, Emotional Distress, Mild Mentions Of Depression, & (RoseMin) Relationship Can Be Seen As Platonic Or Romantic
2) Tw/Tags: Developing Friendship, Light Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Betrayal, Inner Turmoil, Complicated Relationships & Hopeful Ending 
1)
This isn't supposed to happen. It was never part of the game. Nobody is meant to die in this timeline. Not anyone that he particularly cared for but not her. 
Not Ellie. His best friend and companion in crime. 
She was meant to be here with him. After all they went through together she shouldn't be ripped from his grasp. 
Until now she was. Forever gone and he isn't able to change it. He didn't know what to do, even witnessing her totally preventable, and irreversible demise took its toll on him. It was his fault. He could've done something to stop it from happening though it was yanked out of his hands. 
Said hands are shaking as he kneels down to her still warm corpse. The death rattle having been seared into his brain. They fist up then relax, clutching tightly like a vice on Ellie's bloodstained shirt. 
It wasn't until much later, realized the severity of what had been done, that he's screaming his lungs out, crying, and in such a frenzied state nobody can get him out of it for hours on end. 
Afterwards, when someone else in the clan, he couldn't tell who it was, had managed to tear him away from her, he was somewhat able to cool down. He's put in a safe place, alone per his weepy wish to cope. 
She was dead because of him. 
She choked on her own blood, withering in awful pain because of his mistakes. 
Her gorgeous eyes once full of love and pride stared at him with a glassy unfocused haze, fresh with her own tears as life slowly slips from her. 
It was torture knowing he was alone again as he's left to wallow in his misery. Often he laid in the same bed she would lovingly and so carefully drag him out of when he himself was too depressed to get up. 
But nobody was there to do that. No one who does it like her. They tried, surely in their own unique way however it wasn't the same. Him and Ellie had a specific deep bond. 
So it was difficult accepting her death, a slow progression, and it was a hard pill to swallow, that's for sure. 
In the unfortunate circumstances, he noted in a rotten grimace, that there's nothing he can do besides sucking it up. At the start, a few days after Ellie's death, he didn't try, instead played ignorance. His words exact, rarely he does speak, will only consist of the topic that she will come back to him in some shape or way. 
Eventually, people grew tired and left him to his devices, he understood why. Still they did try their best to be a shoulder to lean on if he allowed them. For some, he did do that when he couldn't fight anymore. Oftentimes he was eerily silent, still crying but it eluded him once he realized that no longer did anything come out. 
And so he stands on the special balcony for the orbital station that's shielded nicely with a thick, sturdy glass. The void of space colored in blacks, blues, purples and his favorite, red was refreshing as it is a daunting beauty. His sore eyes were dry when he wiped his sleeve across them, sniffling and wincing a bit at the slight pain. He grips his shaking hands on the banister, breathing deeply through his nose as he watches the larger than life twinkling stars hover above him. 
He is going to get better for his sake. Ellie's even since he knows she wouldn't stand for this. 
***
2)
Regret seeps in like poison. Henry was used to being alone, always on his own. So when climbing through the vents and popping out, he hesitates to move forward. It wouldn't be the first time he betrayed someone or had the same happened to him. 
Though this was different. Somehow unlike the times he did this, Henry felt bad. Guilty. 
In a world, cruel and unfit towards people like him and coincidently her as well should know better better to blindly trust. That's why he did what he'd done without having looked back to see her reaction as his experiences with the same hardened him. 
She was down on her luck. Just like him but she entirely gave up. He still had his fight in him. That's why he's here to begin with, right behind two guards chattering away unaware of his presence, while deciding what to do next. About to make a break for it.
Maybe he should head back just for the heck of it. What would go wrong? 
So he did, begrudgingly, mind you, he wasn't used to this. 
Once he returns to the hole in the ceiling, he cautiously peeks over, taking in the scene of the redheaded woman now curled up in the furthest corner. In the room already so empty and cold, near the door, is the warden’s right hand looking straight ahead, again unaware. 
Softly he makes a noise in order to get her attention which she wasn't bothering to try, even ignoring to seemingly in his growing annoyance. The redhead must know he's here for her. 
He's just trying to help her! In some way he was trying to apologize and that's rare for someone like him anyways. 
As the thief resists the urge to hiss louder or even cut his losses and turn back, he hooks his feet on the hanging staircase. Why it was there is beyond him. Then he curses it upon losing his footing, falling to a crumpled heap in front of the shocked woman. 
Before long he stumbled on his feet, she was gobsmacked to see him as he grabbed onto her arm. Unsurprisingly, the warden’s deputy noticed, stormed into the waiting cell, seeing that Henry was without his cuffs. It won't be long when the true shit goes down so he'd have to rush for it. 
Hope for the best outcome as this wasn't his plan. 
With her in tow, forcibly behind him, he made a beeline to the door. He may be a scrawny guy at least compared to the other man but he isn't a literal pushover. Thankfully, as by pure luck it remains at his side too once he barrels past, knocking the other down with ease. Another surprise to him is that she's running alongside with little resistance.  
The blaring noise of sirens rings in his ears seconds later. He kept going, huffing from the exertion and the mild irritation that throbs in his head. Soon he takes a sharp turn down the hallway, a path chosen in his mind. 
It won't be his smartest, cleverest ones out there, just one that would work for right now at this moment. At the hall's end, close to an office, he slams a fist into a circuit board on the wall, all in the dwindling hopes it's the right choice. 
The door slams shut so it was to his relief. 
He lets go, turns to face her, when he does is instantly met with an angry scowl, and a cold glare. Worse, he is caged in and she can do anything to him. She doesn't, instead stands there, hunched, in stiff silence, except for her ragged breaths filling the air. The cuffs that completely covered her hands so that may be the sole reason why.
In his hesitancy, Henry steps forward, hands up in faux surrender, with no words that he's no threat to her. Eyeing her cuffs then at the room they're in, he notices one, the decently sized trophy likely carrying a heavy weight and secondly, the vent in the ceiling. 
Moments later, trophy in hand, he bashes the cuffs until they drop on the ground broken. In a groan, he steps back, leaning on the table and motions to the ceiling. She runs her free hands together, as if attempting to gather the warmth. 
Of course, she's highly skeptical. Right until he's on his knees ready to boost her up. He doesn't mind being the one to do the lifting this time. She looks around and he knows she's searching for another exit. Then she moves quite quickly, placing her foot on his knee. 
In a flash, the hinges of the vent break apart and she climbs up. 
Henry stands up, dusting off and he hears the sound of people outside the door get louder. 
When he does look up at the ceiling, almost surprised to see she remains there, allegedly waiting, maybe uncertain about the choices laid out for her. It won't shock him whether she takes the grand opportunity to simply leave him behind. 
Until she stretches a hand out for him. 
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sapphuric-acid · 11 days
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PSA: Driving While Distressed
Hello Internet, tonight I'm going to share a story from my weekend about why I now have an incredibly sore neck in place of a car.
The other day I spent my day with my best friend and his girlfriend, whom I hardly talked to before that day. To make a long story short, I ended up being immensely overwhelmed pretty much the entire day and I felt horrible about it. But instead of dealing with the guilt I experienced over that day and calming down, I briefly cried in my car and took off.
I wasn't thinking straight, and my reaction time had been getting increasingly worse into the night. So while I was speeding down the country road (the limit was roughly 55 mph and it was largely desolate, so I was going closer to that limit), it didn't register in my brain when two cars were pulled over on the side of the road and flashing red and blue lights came down the other lane. I attempted to slow down and pull over along with these cars. Perhaps seven seconds before impact, I realized that I wasn't going to slow down in time, and so my best bet was to slow down quick enough to minimize damage while not stopping so fast inertia would get the better of me. I ended up ramming the right front of my car into their left rear wheel.
Nobody was severely injured, and the other driver was even able to drive off. By all means, everything went relatively fine. Of course, except for the fact that I no longer have a car and am suffering from a decent case of whiplash (sore neck/upper back and a little dizziness). But I got lucky.
I think about what would have happened if I didn't stop at all, or if I slowed down faster or didn't react as fast. And most of all, I think about how none of this would have happened to begin with if I had just stayed in that driveway and sobbed my brains out.
So please everyone, if you find yourself emotionally distressed, take a minute and deal with your feelings, whatever that may entail. Because trying to repress your emotions could very much distract you on the road, and it's better to be vulnerable than dead.
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Louis-Jean-François Lagrenée (1724-1805) "Love Consoling Painting from the Critics of her Enemies" (1781) Oil on panel Located in the Louvre Museum, Paris, Francec
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mosneakers · 1 month
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Part 1
It's late. Past 1 AM. Coni returns to the Old Penelope Bunker expecting Sunglo to be asleep in his bed, where she could crawl up next to him, easing any tension caused by her unanswered text. She planned on having him feeling so euphoric, he wouldn't even think to ask about Cecilia. But he's not in bed. She finds him in the sickly dim light of the kitchen waiting for her. He sits silently, no gadgets or bots to fidget with. Coni has never seen him appear so vacant. Sunglo: I haven't heard from you all night.
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Coni rushes through a flimsy excuse about his aunts being "really chatty," but Sunglo quickly redirects, immediately questioning Cecilia's whereabouts. Coni's eyes widen, realizing just how long she's left Erwin alone. Coni: Oh mod, Erwin! [Takes off down the hall]
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The screech of the chair against the stone floor echoes through the spacious halls of the bunker as Sunglo scrambles to his feet trying to get to her.
Sunglo: Coni, wait!
By the time he exits the kitchen, she's already beelining around the corner, her hurried footsteps quickly fading into the distance as he struggles to follow.
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Coni reaches Erwin's door first, and of course it's locked, giving Sunglo time to catch up with her. He grabs her arm, firmly but gently, careful not to hurt her. He demands an explanation. Coni: I... I borrowed Erwin's flannel. I promised him I'd return it tonight.
Sunglo: Okay, well he's asleep right now. I'm sure he'll be fine if you get it back to him in the morning. Will you just relax?
Coni: You saw him come home? Sunglo: Yes, right after work.
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Coni breathes a sigh of relief upon learning he's still safe.
Sunglo: [Still holding her wrist firmly] What's gotten into you? Where's Cecilia?
Coni jerks away and rubs her forehead.
Coni: It's a long story, okay? I need to shower. Sunglo eyes her, puzzled, and she retreats back down the hall.
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A momentary tussle ensues over the bathroom door. However, Sunglo, not wanting to hurt or frighten Coni, ultimately relents. He takes a step back, allowing Coni to slam the door shut.
Sunglo: [Voice strained and defeated] Concept, please tell me what's going on... Baby?
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Coni locks the door behind her and lets the water wash over her, tears merging with the stream as she braces herself for the next phase of this ordeal.
Part 2 Here
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fever-increaser · 8 months
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𝗕𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝘀 (𝟮𝟬𝟬𝟵): 𝖲𝖺𝗆 𝗌𝗎𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖺 𝖯𝖳𝖲𝖣 𝖾𝗉𝗂𝗌𝗈𝖽𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗁𝗂𝗆𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿. 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖳𝗈𝗆𝗆𝗒 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗉𝗂𝗌𝗈𝖽𝖾.
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By: American Psychological Association
Published: Feb 23, 2023
Teens and young adults who reduced their social media use by 50% for just a few weeks saw significant improvement in how they felt about both their weight and their overall appearance compared with peers who maintained consistent levels of social media use, according to research published by the American Psychological Association.
“Adolescence is a vulnerable period for the development of body image issues, eating disorders and mental illness,” said lead author Gary Goldfield, PhD, of Children's Hospital of Eastern Ontario Research Institute. “Youth are spending, on average, between six to eight hours per day on screens, much of it on social media. Social media can expose users to hundreds or even thousands of images and photos every day, including those of celebrities and fashion or fitness models, which we know leads to an internalization of beauty ideals that are unattainable for almost everyone, resulting in greater dissatisfaction with body weight and shape.”
However, much of the psychological research on social media, body image and mental health is correlational, according to Goldfield, so it is uncertain whether people with body image and mental health issues spend more time on social media or if social media use leads to greater body image and mental health issues. 
To better understand the causal effects of reducing social media use on body image, Goldfield and his colleagues previously conducted a pilot study with 38 undergraduate students with elevated levels of anxiety and/or depression. Some of the participants were asked to limit their social media use to no more than 60 minutes per day, while others were allowed unrestricted access. Compared with participants who had unlimited access, participants who restricted their use showed improvements in how they regarded their overall appearance (but not their weight) after three weeks. Due to the small sample size, though, the researchers were unable to conduct a meaningful analysis of the effect of gender.
The current experiment, involving 220 undergraduate students aged 17-25 (76% female, 23% male, 1% other) and published in the journal Psychology of Popular Media, sought to expand the pilot study and address the gender limitation. In order to qualify, participants had to be regular social media users (at least two hours per day on their smartphones) and exhibit symptoms of depression or anxiety.
For the first week of the experiment, all participants were instructed to use their social media as they normally would. Social media use was measured using a screentime tracking program to which participants provided a daily screenshot. After the first week, half the participants were instructed to reduce their social media use to no more than 60 minutes per day. At the start of the experiment, participants also responded to a series of statements about their overall appearance (e.g., “I’m pretty happy about the way I look,”) and weight (e.g., “I am satisfied with my weight,”) on a 5-point scale, with 1 indicating “never” and 5 “always.” Participants completed a similar questionnaire at the end of the experiment.
For the next three weeks, participants who were instructed to restrict their social media use reduced it by approximately 50% to an average of 78 minutes per day versus the control group, which averaged 188 minutes of social media use per day.
Participants who reduced their social media use had a significant improvement in how they regarded both their overall appearance and body weight after the three-week intervention, compared with the control group, who saw no significant change. Gender did not appear to make any difference in the effects.
“Our brief, four-week intervention using screentime trackers showed that reducing social media use yielded significant improvements in appearance and weight esteem in distressed youth with heavy social media use,” said Goldfield. “Reducing social media use is a feasible method of producing a short-term positive effect on body image among a vulnerable population of users and should be evaluated as a potential component in the treatment of body-image-related disturbances.”
While the current study was conducted as a proof of concept, Goldfield and his colleagues are in the process of conducting a larger study to see if reduction in social media use can be maintained for longer periods and whether that reduction can lead to even greater psychological benefits.
Article: “Reducing Social Media Use Improves Appearance and Weight Esteem in Youth with Emotional Distress,” by Helen Thai, BA, McGill University; Christopher Davis, PhD, Wardah Mahboob, MA, Sabrina Perry, BA, and Alex Adams, BA, Carleton University; and Gary Goldfield, PhD, Children’s Hospital of Eastern Ontario. Psychology of Popular Media, published online Feb. 23, 2023.
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If reducing online use results in improvements to self esteem and perception, I wonder what the effect would be of an increase?
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laurzzz · 2 months
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RSCB (Celebrity AU) - CHAPTER 3: Constellations
This fic is only visible to registered users on AO3.
Word Count: 9k+
Chapter Summary:
“How about a little date, you and me?”, Sun swivels his entire body, sides leaning on the wall in replacement of his back. He slides his thumb on the underside of his yellow tie, feeling the fabric. You smirk out a playful, “Flirting with your co-worker during work hours doesn’t sound like you, ‘Detective Sun’.” Sun shifts once more, pushing his back against the wall with his hand still clutching his tie. His face plate turns to face you, the golden sheet rays subtly bouncing in and out slowly. “Well, you’re quite the exception.”
A/N:
This chapter features two other existing AUs and fics in the DCA fandom: Robo-Boyfriends AU and Sleuth Jesters (Detective AU)! Robo-Boyfriends AU fic can be found HERE! While Sleuth Jesters by @naffeclipse can be found HERE! Also the Detective Designs for the DCA in Sleuth Jesters are made by @/sunnys-aesthetic on Tumblr! Anw that's all, please read the tags and enjoy. Not beta-read, we die like Y/N’s perception of the truth. All mistakes are on me. Chapter Warnings: Angst, Swearing, Flirting, Emotional Distress, Emotional Manipulation, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Drinking As A Coping Mechanism, Begging and Desperation, Verbal Fighting, Distrust, A Bit of Violence, Blood, A Bit of Self-Harming Ideation, Minor Injuries
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symptomsshowdown · 1 year
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