#stretch is depressed

[slithymomerath]

They don’t want us medicated (“do you want to be dependent on that for the rest of your life?”), they don’t want us unmedicated (“please stop doing xyz, why can’t you do abc?”), they just want us to stop being neurodivergent.

[halfhissandwich]

I was thinking about this: Logan implies that only feeling-based sides are able to duck out when he explains to Thomas that he, as logic, can’t duck out like Virgil did. And in the EXACT SAME EPISODE, Patton is described as the “core of a lot of Thomas’ feelings.” I THINK that Patton is the only other side that can duck out, and if he did, c!Thomas would experience what is essentially depression (apathy, a loss of interest in previous interests, etc)

(Bonus headcanon: If the orange side does turn out to be Rage, he will also be capable of ducking out.)

[novelconcepts]

me watching my word count increase, knowing full well many readers much prefer bite-sized stories: what's another 10k between friends?

[hecksupremechips]

Come back home when you have some sense

You can throw your life away just not at my expense

You’re not the son I raised

[sweetnnaivete]

summer makes me so happy

[milkbreadtoast]

🫡 (wasnt sure abt some of these but. others im v sure abt dmcbdmdj)

[zoros-sake-bottles]

Sanji x Insecure Fem! Reader!

Sanji was perfect. He treated you like a queen, worshiping the land you walked on and thanking God for creating “such an ethereal soul”. He was gentle and patient and kind hearted. He believed in you and wished more for you then you could ever wish for yourself. Standing next to him, you were always left wondering “Am I enough? Do I do for him what he does for me?”. Sometimes you would sit in your room and debate his behavior towards you, overthinking was a trait you so heavily possessed. You’d look at yourself in the mirror and see how pudgy you were. Each time you saw the stretch marks on the insides of your arms and thighs, the ones on the sides of your stomach-... tears swelled up in your eyes.

         The bits of acne spread throughout your face and body didn’t make it any better. You couldn’t even begin when it came to your body hair and slight hyperpigmentation. Sometimes at night one of the rare times Sanji wasn’t with you, you maladaptive day dreamed about a magic eraser. A small white piece of rubber that you would run over the parts of your body that you hated and just like that your insecurity would disappear in an instant. With that eraser you could look like Nami or Robin, unblemished and a suitable girlfriend for your perfect boyfriend. Alas, there was no eraser and you would stay this way for who knows how long. These are the thoughts that made you become distant. These are the thoughts that influenced you to skip meals. 

You thought you were doing good, “fasting” or “dieting” whichever one of those you chose as an excuse to just drink water and eat a couple slices of fruit every now and then. Though this definitely didn’t go unnoticed by Sanji. When it came to you, he knew practically everything and he definitely wasn’t going to allow you to do this to yourself, you were too precious to him. So around the evening when everyone had eaten and winded down he snuck off to your room with a basket of your favorite foods. “Darling?” he knocked. “Darling, it's me”. You’d got out of the shower not too long ago and your hair was wrapped in a towel. You sat on your bed in your silk tank top and pajama shorts.

       You wanted to ignore him and at first you did but when his pleas became more desperate and he made it clear that he wasn’t leaving, you couldn’t help but open the door for him. His face lit up when his eyes landed on you, like a dog when an owner came home after being at work all day. “Sanji?” you eyed the basket in his hand already knowing what it was. “Hm? Oh! I thought we could eat together since you haven’t eaten dinner yet” he looked to the basket and back to you with a smile. “I don’t-”. “Ma cherie, we’ve barely seen each other in the past three days and you haven’t been eating” he cupped your cheek, his eyebrows scrunched in concern. You said nothing. “I miss you mon amour , tell me what's going on”.

       No you thought, don’t say things that I don’t deserve to hear. You tried to pull away from him but your body didn’t move and the floodgates opened and you couldn’t stop the tears that were flooding your eyes. Your hands rushed to hide the emotions from him but it was too late and he was fast acting, wiping your tears away with a sympathetic frown. You were sniffling and he was ushering you out of the hallway into your room, closing the door with his foot. Quickly he set the basket down on your desk and rushed to your side with a box of tissues. The two of you sat in silence for a bit as you tried to get yourself together.

        “Darling? Please tell me what’s been bothering you” he urges you while sitting across from you on your bed. He wipes your cheeks with the back of his hand. “Seeing you like this is killing me”. You let out an exhale and can't help but think about how much more ugly you look right now. You glanced down at your exposed skin and suddenly have the impulse to cover up your legs. Sanji takes note of how you pick up a pillow and throw it over your lap. He removes the pillow and lays his head there instead, earning a startled gasp from you.

     "Y/n" he gazed into your eyes from below. You gently closed his eyes with two fingers. "don't open them until I say" your voice was slightly hoarse from crying. He hummed in agreement and shut his eyes. You shakily exhaled as you prepared yourself to explain. "i've been feeling very insecure about my body lately". "And-.... I guess… i don't know it's stupid" you huffed. Why was it so hard to say? "It's not stupid, don't say that". You close your eyes as well and find that you are able to think easier.

  “I keep having these thoughts that I'm not good enough for you because of how overweight and imperfect I am”. “So that's why you’ve been avoiding me and why you haven’t been eating?” he said in frustration. “I don’t want you to find me unattractive Sanji, you dating me-... sometimes it doesn’t feel real at all. I'm lucky that someone like me could even-”. “Stop” he interrupts you, removing himself from your lap. You keep your eyes closed, afraid of what the look on his face is like. “Sweetheart” you feel his hands gently hold yours. “Look at me,” he pleads. Your eyes open a splint and then fully.

  He was staring at you with a frown that made you feel ashamed. “Don’t ever, ever think that you're lucky to be dating me, it's the opposite and it will always be the opposite. I'm thankful you even looked my way- every second of attention you give me makes me feel like the richest man in the world” he said. “But-”. “No, do you hear me?- And I don’t want to hear you talk about yourself like that ever again, not only are you insulting yourself but you're hurting me” his brows furrow. “W-what?” you ask.

   “I have this girlfriend who’s the greatest piece of art to ever exist but she believes she’s ugly, so then she damages herself and hides herself away so that nobody can ever see her beauty again” he scowls. You can’t meet his eyes anymore. “So what will it take?” he asks and sighs. “what will what-”. “To get you to recognize how much of a rare blessing you are Mi amor…- you can’t even comprehend how much better you make my life everyday”. Your face was flushed and you could only hope that he didn’t take notice.

          “So what do I need to do to get you to realize that?” his head tilted to the side as he watched you. “i d….n...ow” you mumbled. “Hm? I can’t hear you love” he lifted your chin, eyeing your lips in their natural pouting position. “I don’t know” you said clearly this time, struggling to make eye contact with him. “Should I…kiss all the insecurities away?”. Your body shuttered as Sanji leaned back on his elbow and placed a kiss on your bare shoulder, moving down your arm, making sure to give the stretch marks extra special attention.

          You squirmed upon feeling the warmth of his breath on the bit of your side that had been exposed due to the rolling up of your tank top. Your stomach, that's where most of your hatred originated from, hence why you began to panic inside. But all doubt was washed away when you felt his soft lips on your skin. He was gentle as he kissed the outstretched skin,  you could tell he was enjoying it. “You're so stunning dear” he whispered. And for the first time in days your mind was clearing, he wasn’t disgusted by you, he wanted you and only you, you were his.

  Sanji was making his way to the front of your stomach when all of a sudden your stomach growled. He paused and smiled at you before giggling. Your face was on fire and you covered it with both hands. He peeled your hands away and kissed your lips before crawling off the bed and getting the basket. He set up a bed tray before taking out the food which was still warm. He sat it on the table in front of you (your favorite stew, rice and some side dishes).

  You were prepared to pick up a spoon but Sanji had already held one in front of your mouth. You bashfully allowed him to feed you the savory meal, he never once let you lift a finger.

[just-here-for-the-moment]

The line for the devastation ask I tagged you in:

She said to him

"I want to marry you. I want it all with you but that's selfish. I have nothing to offer you, but I would love to admire you for the rest of my life… if you'd have me."

Whew!! A sprint just for you!

45 minutes, 968 words, and a whole LOT of angst. You're welcome and I'm sorry. 🥲😢🥺🥹

Please imagine any Pedro boy you want to under the cut. 💖

***

“You can’t leave. You won’t leave me.”

“Goddammit! You don’t get to tell me what to do, not anymore!” 

You threw armfuls of clothing, odds and ends and mismatched shoes into your suitcase, not caring what got jumbled or squashed or torn. He could burn the rest for all you cared, whatever you left behind. It would all be his to deal with, whether he wanted to set it on fire or or preserve it in perpetuity, an unchanging shrine to the woman he loved (past tense, you were certain of it).

He sprung up from his seat on the bed and began pacing, running his hands through his hair, scrunching and scraping his fingernails through those chestnut almost-curls that you loved so much. 

You wanted to give in but you couldn’t, even though your strongest impulse was to sink down onto the plush lavender rug at the foot of the bed that you had picked out together, in the apartment that had been his for so long before he asked you to move in. The memory of that golden summer day stung the back of your throat, pushed more tears to the surface, caused you to ugly-sniff and choke on your own snot. 

You clenched your jaw and shook the memory free from your head, looking around wildly for the rest of your possessions. Hairbrush. Books. Jewelry.

He was suddenly at your side, his large hand wrapped around your wrist with the most gentle of grasps. Not squeezing, not painful, not punitive… but not letting go, either. Not giving in, not letting you succumb to your hasty decision to leave. 

You were stubborn, that much he knew, and you hated yourself for it. When you got this way, when the monster you’d fought all your life took hold, you wanted to let him take control instead, wrap his arms around you and soothe you and kiss you. You really did… but you also had the fatal flaw of having to be right, of leaving yourself out in the cold in order to prove to yourself that the monster was correct, because if you were wrong about that, then what else could you be wrong about? What other concrete, absolute facts would turn on their heads and yank the rug out from under you? 

It was better to be right, to give in to the inner monologue that made your head throb and pulse with hot self-hatred, rather than give in to the man you loved. Better to be alone, correct, solid in your beliefs than to trust your boyfriend’s love. Love could be turned off, after all, and you knew that better than anyone. 

“Just- just stay, please. I can’t live without-” his voice broke, and you hated yourself even more. 

You stilled, staring at his hand on your wrist, as if you could find the answer there by studying the veins under his skin, the calluses and bones and the geography of his beautiful hands that you’d memorized.

“Please,” he said, exhaustion and pain and longing twisting his voice into a ragged whisper. 

“Please talk to me. I won’t- I can’t force you to stay, but please tell me what you’re thinking, because if I did something wrong-”

“No,” you croaked out. “No, it’s not you. It was never you. It’s me.”

You lifted your eyes to his, a frisson of acrid self-loathing twisting your stomach when you saw the tears magnifying his beautiful brown eyes. 

The monster got louder. You did that. You fucked up. You you you you you… it was always you. Nothing good could ever live within your orbit. Why were you always killing the nice things in your life?

“So you don’t want to marry me?” His eyes trailed to the velvet box on the nightstand, the catalyst for your panic, your blinding fear, your flight response to anything joyful. 

“I- I don’t, I can’t- I mean I do, but-” 

A sob suddenly wracked your body, shuddering waves of nausea rippling up from your toes to your shoulders. 

"I want to marry you. I want it all with you, but,” a hiccup erupted, and you huffed, taking a deep breath to try to steady yourself. 

“But that's selfish. I have nothing to offer you.” 

He shook his head, vehement in his rebuttal. 

“You have everything to offer me, everything. I want you. I want you in my bed and in my life and in my heart. I wouldn’t have proposed if I didn’t want you, and everything that goes with it.” 

His jaw was set, big brown eyes suddenly blazing with passion, with how certain he was about his love for you. 

Maybe giving in wouldn’t be bad, wouldn’t hurt more than being stubborn? Maybe it would be safe to put one foot on the bridge he was building for you, to take a step and trust that he would hold you and keep you from falling into the canyon you’d been throwing yourself into for decades. Could you trust him? Could you let him treat you better than the way you believed you deserved after the world had put its claws in you? 

A deep breath, in, then out again, feeling your pulse pounding in your throat as you took a step, held your heart out for him to hold. 

“I will always believe that I have nothing to offer you, nothing to offer to anyone, but I would love to admire you for the rest of my life… if you'd have me."

More tears rushed to his eyes, but the grin that split his face was your reward, the most pure and priceless thing he could ever offer you for trusting him. 

You gave in, and his warmth wrapped around you as he pulled you close and kissed you. 💖

[variousqueerthings]

I think it's also interesting to see how things change depending on the time in which they're being engaged with. so I see things about rose today that point out that she's written to be 19 when she meets the doctor and that's a big age difference (which... I understand the point is it's a big age difference because billie piper was 23 and eccleston was 40, and then dtennant was like 34/35 when he started which isn't so big of a shift but anyway the optics I get what people are getting at, but also I think it does oversimplify a lot of what's actually going on in the written dynamic, anyway-)

and also that the rtd run's Themes start coming together properly around s3 (although they are present from day one), and in some ways at this point, because nu!who has been running for... fuckn. actually quite a few years, which is wild to me as someone who started watching as a kid, and I wonder if classic!who fans felt the same way about their show and anyway -- she shifts from being Literally The First Companion You'd Seen For 17 Years (not counting the movie and fan things and the sketch) Who Was Defining A New Era For A New Generation to... a companion

comparable to other companions, comparable to the rest of the show

we sift through the writing to see what worked and what didn't (in our opinion), and we know how the ten-and-rose storyline Really ends, and how the ten storyline ends (sort, of because now that doctor and donna are Back), and we know what happens afterwards, and we talk about tenrose with a 2020s eye, and rose is "just" one of the people that travels with the doctor, one of several, and notably the one who gets most of the sunshiney doctor that buries a lot of the (wonderfully portrayed) angst of the latter half of the rtd show, and doesn't have as much lore as everything after that, so the story is "just" more simple overall

and to me she's kind of incapable of being just that. doctor who was still a risk that first season, it wasn't a done deal that it would have legs at all, never mind that it would continue for as long as it has. rose was created to be the Face of what nu!who was, moreso than nine/eccleston, because even with the extra angst and the eccleston gravitas, we know the doctor, the doctor is established, it's not actually the doctor that needs to sell what the new show is going to become and what the Feel of that new show is going to be (I mean, partly ofc, but-)

rose was doing so much heavy lifting and she succeeded! she was the face of who before dtennant or any other doctor or companion of his era and subsequent eras. she was created to appeal to a demographic of girls who wanted someone relatable in science fiction, because rtd wanted this to be for the girls, and billie piper came into it off the back of being a popstar and it changed her entire trajectory (for the better I think/hope -- there's a lot of bad shit in billie piper's past and I'm always sending her a fond thought)

nine/ten-and-rose were It! not calling it romantic or platonic or any secret third thing (haunting the narrative), but simply It! that's why it has so much staying power as a ship (which, my opinion on shipping has been somewhat *eh shrug* in later years, but in early-days when that was how you engaged with dynamics that got to you, of course it was going to be massive). it's so hard to properly describe how "for the time in which it was made" that this dynamic was written for, and how successful it was. it was rose that breathed doctor who -- and the doctor's character -- to life, as much as herself

she sets the stage for everything that comes next, both within and without the show proper

and I'm always so pleased that rtd at the time was thinking about what was needed to create this character and he opened with a shot from a girl on the estate with messy hair, clumpy eyeliner, and a minimum wage job, and went "that's the girl who's going to go on the adventure of a lifetime, that's the girl we're seeing the story through and relating to, because that's what girls (and uh... those who were girls at the time - and their parents and the boys) should be seeing."

I know rose isn't the first working class companion including classic!who, but she set the tone for nu!who and her family and background are important to why she is who she is, and is explored

"I've got no A-levels, no job, no future-" said the girl about to see the universe

she was very much for teenagers, and so she reads differently when you're an adult watching it back (much like those "teenager saves the world," novels you loved as a kid), but that's why she's 19 at the beginning. that's why she's billie piper (who does a perfect job). she was there to bring a new generation into this story, and it was perfect. and then she grows up. and we grew up. and she had adventures and it was brilliant and she survived and she made a life for herself. that's her story

[pareidolla]

As a long time broken enjoyer i can't believe i only just followed you. How we feeling about all the broken winss. He's nice to the NARRATOR in the fury. No one is nice to the narrator. Everyone clap and cheer for Broken!!!

fellow broken comrade hello! many salutes to you, we love bbken in this household. sorry for sitting on this ask for so long - mental illness, executive dysfunction, etc etc. as mentioned, i've been thrilled about the broken wins. mentally running across a court slapping a bunch of hands followed by effortlessly dunking a basketball. i put all my stocks into my boy and it paid off!!!!!!!

and like oh god don't even get me STARTED on the leave with fury ending. the narrator gravely accepting his fate to fade away after broken stands up for the long quiet, and the three of you leave hand-in-hand to the outside world... broken concludes the narrator's final words for him before turning to you and reassuring you about the mirror, unconcerned about your appearance after being ribboned and wrenched apart, and now understanding of death... and augh his voice remains so unbelievably gentle throughout all of it. i just -- he's so --(incoherent blubbering)

[randomreasonstolive]

Reason to Live #9474

 Stretching with satisfaction after a nap.  – Guest Submission

(Please don't add negative comments to these posts.)

[darkwood-sleddog]

even though the vet said she didn't feel anything of concern or see anything of concern when we brought sigurd in a few weeks ago i have a feeling i will not feel confident in his health until i see an x-ray myself costs be damned lmao

[good-beans]

ITS DANCE TIME 🩰

[rasazys-ramblings]

A normal song goes OOOOooooOOOOOOOOooooouh oooowooooooOOOOohwoh awhooooOOOOoh and I say it's ass but Vivid BAD SQUAD does the same thing and I go THIS ONE RIGHT HERE THIS IS MY FAVORITE SONG THIS IS THE SONG THE ONLY SONG THAT HAS EVER SUCCESSFULLY WOKE ME UP IN THE MORNINGS WITHOUT ME COMPLAINING AND TIRED AS FUCK THIS IS THE SONG THAT MAKES ME WAKE UP REFRESHED AND READY FOR THE DAY THIS IS THE SONG THAT MOTIVATES ME THIS IS IT RIGHT HERE

[2-the-moon-and-2-saturn]

STOP IT i was just ATTACKED with a greys anatomy quote i HATE EVERYTHING

“20 years with the love of your life. that’s gonna be you, at our granddaughter’s wedding.”

“How about you? Won’t you be dancing at your granddaughter’s wedding?”

“Kinda gotta have a partner for that.”

“But if you had a partner, who would it be?”

“Oh, that’s easy. Lexie Grey.”

why are they LIKE THIS i’m CHEWING ON DRYWALL

[thatoneweirdo14]

shiguang but cxs asks lg to teach him sign languange only to mess up on purpose so that lg will hold his hands correct him