#all the plus sized fashion stuff i look at are like 'dress like its the fifties' or 'be half naked because your body shape is pleasant'

[dullgecko]

Heyo so u wanted to come if on anon for a while now but also wanted to have another headcanon or idea to share when I do, but I think I’m pretty taped out for new ideas.

Anyway here I am surprise 🎉

I still regularly check out your page and I always enjoy seeing the new posts and responses plus any updates to the chaos horde au.

Also I know I said I’m out of things to share at this moment but I did have one small thing for my new favourite of Tiktik;

I remember a post about goblins having very strong opinions on fashion and the idea that once they find a look they like they stick with it and go full force with it.

So Tiktik decides to stay in elmville for a while just to visit the gang, particular her pretty cleric and see how they just generally live their lives etc.

Part of this is going to a mall or clothing store to get her solace appropriate clothing. My initial thought was to Tiktik was going full goth mode since she’s used to wearing dark clothing anyway like most goblins do to blend in with shadows and night and I imagine her loving the intricate shiny jewellery, studs and spikes she can add.

But then I thought hang on, for the first time in her life she doesn’t have to worry about camouflage or standing out to much or she’ll possibly be eaten, and now has access unlimited to all these new and exciting clothes (Fabian offered to buy her anything she wanted and get it tailored to her size later, he claims it’s just a welcome gift but secretly it’s more of a thank you for helping get me and Riz together gift).

So she goes for the brightest most gaudy clothes she can find, I’m talking rainbow leggings, several different kinds of bright plastic bracelets on each arm and necklaces along with the loudest patterned shirts and skirt/shorts anyone’s ever seen.

She comes out of the dressing room and while everyone saw the clothes she picked out it’s still a shock to actually see it all together and before anyone can say anything to try and talk her out of her fashion choices, Kristen does her best impression of a suggestive/impressed goblin growl genuinely finding the outfit she’s wearing to be HOT (she wears tie dye and a yellow tracksuit, her fashion sense aren’t the best).

Also thing honestly was only meant to be a small thing but it kinda got away from me 😅

Xx

God i love it so much but also AHHH HI <3

The goblins up in the mountains actually have fairly nice clothing. They might not have cotton, but they have a kind of silk harvested from creatures they farm in the darkness of their caves. Very strong and rip-proof so it can withstand their claws and it feels wonderful against your skin. Adventurers used to find bolts of the silk in goblin caves and attributed it to them stealing it from elven settlements.

The stereotype of a goblin wearing threadbare rags is only because adventurers were constantly encountering them after destroying their homes and trying to exterminate them. Textile arts take time and if you're constantly running for your life and moving you dont have time to make any new outfits. It gets put on the backburner even more so if your species doesnt have much of a taboo about nudity.

Its almost always dyed mostly greens and dark browns so their camoflage doesnt get disrupted too badly but it's all tailored to fit well, and tight, so it doesnt get snagged on anything.

Other than the silks they'll usually also have leather clothing. There's plenty of it to go around since they hunt for 99% of their food so its usually what smaller kits wear since they'll grow out of it fast.

Tiktik comes to Solace and there's just SO MANY different fabrics and colours, so she spends hours just wandering around a store running her hands over things to test how they feel (some of the textures are repulsive and Riz agrees). She finds some stuff she likes and goes a little wild on the colour choices ands up stepping out of the changing room and its just like

Riz is kindof glad he's wearing light-filtering glasses.

[aanabear2803]

hi i've seen your posts about body weight and I as a fat girl, was wondering if you are open to talk about it or give advice about it

I have been struggling real bad with it lately, I thought I was ok and had been for a few years, turns out I hate my body so much and you seem so confident, you got any advice? would you be open to talk about it in dm's?

feel free to ignore this if it's uncomfortable tho

Hi :3 um... so. I struggle with my own body weight a lot. I wont really talk about the bad thoughts that lurk about.

Ive been overweight since I was a wee lad. It especially hurts when my meds make me constantly hungry. Like I am always fucking hungry. So I just snacked the day away without any thoughts of consequences. I still eat these meds to this day. I am still as hungry as ever.

Id say I wont have very awesome advice? Because what I would normally do when those bad thoughts do happen is... post nudes on my kinky tumblr? Which, you know I dont expect others to do. Im sure there are healthier ways to express yourself than to go on tumblr and do shit like being half naked. However there are tons of gorgous women who dress in lingerie and post on tumblr all the time. You kinda just need to know where to look.

Ive also been trying to loose weight. But its more for a health thing since Im close to being diabetic and Im super duper not down for that myself. Im already tired of the meds Ive eaten I dont want to have to subject myself to stabs of insulin.

Im not on a fad diet of any kind. Im just eating 1200kcal a day watching as my weight slowly goes down~ I calculate all of this stuff too.

There's also the difference in how being fat and being unhealthy are wildly different. There's also that thing on how genetics have a say in the weight a person can be. But that is not my expertize at all! But you can be more than welcomed to go search and read up on those.

Ive been more open to exposing my skin a little at a time? Like wearing a bikini while in the pool when Im exercising. Ive been very recently trying to get corsets to work out too! Altho whether you like it or not there will be stares from people. But I would say start from the clothes, buy stuff you think would make you strut a runway. Dont just buy tshirts and pants and call it a day. Find a top in your size and fucking go for it. (Altho I understand many curvy people will not be able to find it cheap and Im just saying if you are desperate for the cash.... you can try Shein. Which I understand many Americans are banning and all the problems with fast fashion into overproduction but they do have many plus size clothes that most store dont normally have for people like us so you know its entirely up to you! But I was close to tears when I bought something and it just.... fits you know? Just dont go all out and buy their entire stock. I buy 5XL on there and dont worry about the number being so high, its probably based around the chinese style with their insane standards)

But hey look, people are going to judge no matter what ok? They always will. They will always find a way to trash talk. Its hard to ignore them, I get it. But theyre not you. They dont know if youre trying to loose weight or whether the food youre eating is a reward for having done a week of gym. Id honestly just say the fries are delicious and they should try it and we move on with our day. Its like online haters, you dont waste an hour of your life justifying things to them, so you have no reason to need to justify things to irl people.

I do hope this helps a little? I dont mind dms if you have any other questions of course :3

[dateamonster]

9, 10

worst part of canon + worst part of fanon

since u didnt specify a subject im gonna talk abt *spins wheel* monster high. why not. its been on my mind.

so wrt g3, i keep waiting to acclimate to the new "monsters hate witches" underlying plot thread and it just keeps. not making sense to me. the worst part of being an autistic media over-analyzer but about a literal childrens show designed to sell toys is there will be one narrative element that feels like narratively illogical and theres no way to point that out without sounding like a crazy person that thinks way too much about stuff that doesnt matter at all. which i am but still!

dont know if this even counts but worst part of fanon is just people acting like mh has totally solved its body diversity problem lol. i feel like its somehow gotten worse now that theyve actually introduced characters with slightly varying body types. fandom rn feels like a mix of people jumping through hoops to say they hate fat people without outright saying it next to people who look at the new designs like wow we did it we solved fatphobia as if there isnt still a huge problem, for example, with how abbey is styled vs iris.

and i dont hate how g3 iris looks or anything, but her design feels like a pretty clear indicator that they dont intend to ever make another doll of her. one of the biggest under-addressed and ongoing issues with doll collecting is how companies pretend to be interested in body diversity by making plus size side characters who will never be allowed the glamour or the care afforded to her skinnier counterparts. which is an unfortunate mirror to the fashion industry in general. i just want cute capital-f Fat characters who are allowed to dress up and have their own storylines and shit!

--

🔥 choose violence ask game 🔥

[k1ngj0ve]

I hate fashion with a... probably pathetic amount of vitriol

I dont understand it and it drives me insane to listen to people talk about it

Still though!!! I hold out this hope that if i keep looking at it i will understand and improve myself. i follow several fashion youtubers. all but one are vintage fashion, which i understand because thats like... basically period dress. they will get really intensely upset about mixing up style (people didnt wear that in the 40s thats a 60s invention and THAT is a 20s invention and no woman of the time period would EVER wear something so old)

And i dont really understand the anger there because it looks pretty and someone NOW is mixing those things so maybe someone THEN would do it, but i do understand wanting things to be historically accurate

But i started following modern fashion youtubers now and im fucking BAFFLED. 

How the fuck does fashion even work?? How do things go in and out of fashion? This girl was talking (clearly with a lot of knowledge and love) about early 2000s trends coming back into style, things i am pretty sure we all look back on and see as tacky (whale tails, low rise jeans, etc) and how they are coming back into fashion??

1. if they were good then why did they fall out of fashion?

2. if they were bad, why are they back in?

It reminded me of the Ugg boot trend. Pretty much the only trendy thing i ever have owned, the only NICE thing ive ever owned, were knockoff ugg boots that were visually identical to the real thing. They were soft, they were warm, they were comfortable, i wore them every day for like 6 months until they ripped in half. Couldnt buy new ones! because they were out of style now. Why did they go out of style?? They were GOOD and anyone could wear them!

I remember during the ‘lowrise jeans with tube tops’ era i was 14 and too chubby for low rise jeans and too busty for tube tops and the fashion clearly only worked for people with person trainers, so i would guess it fell out of fashion because since stores stopped selling normal jeans too many people who did not look good in low rise jeans ruined it for everyone and it became tacky? then WHY ARE THEY COMING BACK. the youtube girl literally said ‘buy high rise jeans while they are still available’. WHY?? everyone i knew fuckign HATED low rise jeans, they only look good on the super thin and 75% of america is fat, and culturally we decided they are tacky, WHY WOULD THEY COME BACK

Slight digression, same topic. Was looking through her style analysis videos of movies. ‘this person is visually unfashionable because her clothes are ill-fitted. technically the outfit actually works, its a nice one, but because it is ill fitted it is ugly’. But then in the same video she shows all these super oversized outfits on models and says that they can also be fashionable. WHICH IS IT? how does one buy oversized clothes and have them be fashionable instead of ill fitted? How do you well-fit OVERSIZED CLOTHES? 

My initial thought, what ive believed my whole life, is that the difference between fashionable and unfashionable is being skinny and hot, but the characters in the movies she's talking about are like, fucking Anne Hathoway, so what the hell is happening here, i do not UNDERSTAND what do you WANT!?? And none of the videos have anyone above a size 6 so when shes talking about ‘achieving a modern silhouette’ or a ‘90s silhouette’ like what the fuck is she TALKING ABOUT? i dont understand your alien language! None of this stuff appears to even be POSSIBLE if you have a different body type so what does this mean for everyone else??

One last thing. in the most recent video i watched she said ‘haltertops are comign back into fashion, i think they are wonderful, they are so versatile etc etc, i believe everyone should own at least one haltertop’ i have never in my entire life been halter-top shaped, not since i was 7 years old with and eating disorder, its not gonna fucking happen, and the 95% of your style inspo pictures, your ‘this looks great’ and ‘look how many ways it can be styled’ pictures, they are ALWAYS fucking tiny. 

MAKE IT MAKE SENSE

[lostaroace]

Regular Customer | Steve Harrington x Reader (ch.11)

Series Masterlist.

Chapter Ten.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!reader|plus-sized!reader|nerd!reader

Word count: 7018.

Warning: Self-esteem issues.

Regular Customer | Chapter Eleven.

On October 31st, 1986, her house dining room had become the darkest and spookiest dungeon in town. After she woke up in the Hawkins Hospital it took two weeks for her to be discharged, and after that, she had to prove her worth to the community college professors. She was smart, a genius, but that didn't mean that she could learn new things in just half an hour. It took time for her to adapt to her new scheduled, which meant that her movie rental decreased forcing her to see Steve less and less until he took the initiative of going to her house at the end of his shifts just to have a small five minutes talk by the front door. Steve had been great at respecting her space and her priorities. Eddie did too, although it was harder for him not to see his best friend every other day after what happened.

Steve and Y/N still hadn't had their first official date. Steve had promised to go to the Arcade on a Saturday she wasn't too stressed out with the amount of work she had. Robin offered her help. She'd been in college since the beginning so she should've had the work up to date, shouldn't she? Well… She was Robin Buckly so… Both of them were screwed on that matter.

That being said, the first-afternoon Y/N had truly been free with everything up to date, had to be the same afternoon Halloween took place. Eddie had organized an amazing campaign for the Hellfire Club and had decorated Y/N's dining room himself for hours promising to clean it up with the same efficiency. She was excited to see her friends again because that's what they definitely were now, friends. She'd been a little reluctant to think about herself as their friend just because of what happened last March but after her little adventure to the Upside Down with Max and her six weeks of sleep she knew they were her friends. All of them.

Y/N looked at her reflection in the mirror of her room. She had it all. The blue jeans, the white Nike shoes with the mark in red (just like the ones Steve had), the red plain t-shirt, the white plaid shirt, the denim jacket and, on top of that, the red puffy vest. Yup, she dressed up as Marty McFly from Back to the Future and she was nailing it. She had some controversy with her hair; a part of her thought she had to be stylish like a fashion magazine to complete the outfit, but the other part of her was certain that if Marty McFly had her hair, he would probably tie it up. In the end, she did what felt better to be comfortable.

As she went down the stairs, Eddie took a good look at her nodding in approval. He was wearing a greenish Hawaiian shirt, very hurtful to the eyes, his usual jeans, and a white lab coat with a bunch of stuff in its chest pocket. His hair was covered in talcum powder to make it white; she had helped him straighten it up with her hair iron, he had coated it with the white powder, and then had used quite an extraordinary amount of hairspray to get that look of an insane inventor Doc Brown had. Of course, he had those cool black lab goggles that completed the look.

"I wish I had a Delorean right now, dude. You and I, driving through town screaming that the Libyans had found us."

"We can always rent one next year," she offered.

"And repeat an outfit? Are you insane?" He pretended to be offended.

The doorbell rang and Eddie ran to answer the door, anxious to see the amazed expression on his friends' faces when they saw his costume. Dustin and Mike's compliments were the loudest. Y/N came closer to take a peek at who had arrived. Max was dressed in plain black with a mask under her arm. Lucas was dressed as The Terminator. Dustin was The Godfather, with all his hair pulled back and a mustache painted on his upper lip; he even had a cat plushy. Will was Indiana Jones and Eleven was Madonna. Mike, on the other hand, was sulking because his idea was to dress up like one of the Top Gun guys, and seeing that Steve not only had the same idea but looked better than he was souring his soul. Robin had dressed up as David Bowie in The Labyrinth while Vickie was a very redhead Jennifer Connely.

Steve had taken the babysitter-driver duty, again. He'd picked up Robin, Vickie, and some of the kids, while Hopper had dropped off the rest of them at the very same time. Coparenting was interesting.

As they walked in admiring Eddie's costume, they found Y/N dressed up as Marty McFly and they loved every part of it. They were too comfortable with her house by now, therefore they didn't need an invitation to roam around, go to the kitchen, and find something to nibble on if they wanted. Mike lingers a little more with Eddie and Y/N complimenting their outfits until Robin trapped him with an arm and pulled him inside the house. Steve was the last one getting in and had been watching the whole exchange silently from the door. Once they were alone she looked at his outfit. It wasn't much different than the one he wore on their mission against Vecna; he had jeans, military boots, a white t-shirt too tight to his body, and the amazing jacket from The War Zone. Some pilot sunglasses were the cherry on top.

"You look good, Harrington."

"Do I?" He lowered his sunglasses to look at her over the frame. She tried not to smile and failed. "I have to say I'm not that surprised about your costume choice. Robin guessed you'll go for something out of your comfort zone, something too flowery and girly and puffy," she pulled a face. "That's the expression I made. I guess I know you better now, don't I?"

"I guess."

She openly smiled now that he was closer and had taken out his sunglasses. She grabbed the sides of the open jacket and pulled him closer. Steve chuckled leaning in to give her a slow kiss, barely a press of their lips. She complained so he, smiling, without tearing his mouth away, cupped her face upgrading the kiss. It wasn't intense, but it was better. They moved against each other as if they had all the time in the world. A flash made them stop. Eddie grinned, a camera in hand.

"You looked too good, lovebirds. Come on, big boy, it's time for you to pop the cherry, but first, take a pic of us," he put his arm on Y/N's shoulders and smiled wildly before Steve took the photo.

It was time for Dungeons and Dragons. The very first campaign with Steve Harrington, or King Ahoy, as he was also called.

The evening went on smoothly and fast. The campaign was a complete success. Mike and Will were still tense with each other, although no one really knew what they argued about, and with the campaign, they had talked more to each other than in the last weeks. Eddie's amazing world was able to build bridges between people. Steve was having a great time, especially since he wasn't the only one who had no clue about what he was doing; Robin and Vickie were also virgins on this matter, and oh, how they flirted while playing was ridiculous. It was a shame that Erica couldn't make it because she had a party with friends her own age who weren't nerdy losers, as she had said. They wasted five film rolls taking photographs all the time, most of them were going to come out blurred and unfocused, but they were having so much fun it didn't really matter.

"Can I use the phone?" Eleven asked Y/N when the campaign was over.

"Sure. Do you need to call Hopper?"

"He'll pick us up."

Y/N showed Eleven where the phone was and went to the kitchen to put some order to the disaster of candy wraps and empty plates. They haven't had a proper dinner, but they had eaten some mini-sandwiches, pizza, and all kinds of snacks. As she was sorting the leftover pizza to know what to keep for tomorrow and what to just throw, someone pressed their fingers on her sides making her jump and turn to find Steve Harrington with a toothy grin on his face. The times she'd seen him surprise Nancy like that on the school corridors wishing it was her… and now she was.

"Did you have fun?" She asked him honestly curious.

He gave it a good thought, "Yeah… Yeah, I had more fun than I thought I would. And, let me tell you, the best part was rilling Mike up. That boy is always so angry at the world."

"He doesn't like changes."

"He's very possessive and jealous, though."

"Indeed. So is Lucas. I think Dustin is the only sane one."

"Why of course, he's my child."

She couldn't help to laugh, unable to stop. Steve cornered her against the kitchen counter without imposing himself, always offering her an out if she disliked the proximity. Y/N was enjoying it, though, so she pulled him closer.

"Is Eddie staying tonight?" He whispered.

"Yeah. He'd picked a lot of terror classics."

"Do you mind if I join? I promise I won't intrude."

"I was going to ask you if you wanted to stay."

"Really?"

"Really."

He looked at her adoringly and hugged her. He surrounded her waist with his arms and hid his face on her shoulder; he felt so vulnerable and so lost in his house that when he was with the kids, with Robin, Eddie and Y/N he felt alive again. Dustin and Robin made him feel needed, useful, they gave him a purpose in existence, he wasn't just a shadow that consumed oxygen. However, the moment Y/N landed her eyes on him, paid him attention, smiled at him, and… well, loved him, he felt just that, loved. Truly loved. It was overwhelming and he wasn't sure he deserved it.

*

On December 19th, 1986, the release of the new version of The Little Shop of Horrors in theaters got the party all together again.

It all started with the film being announced on TV and Eddie freaking out because he loved the original in black and white and was very excited to see this new musical version. He begged Y/N to go with him during a D&D campaign and Dustin claimed that he wanted to watch it too. It ended up feeling like an excursion.

Mike and Will's friendship was still cold, and Mike's relationship with Eleven was turning more into a friendship than a romantic relationship. He'd swallowed his pride and asked Steve for advice on the matter. Mike was still thinking about his words because no matter how much he wanted to dislike stupid Steve, the truth is that he was right. Mike's argument with Will came from the fact that he, Mike, had unattended his friendship with Will. He didn't have that problem with Lucas or Dustin; maybe because they weren't as attached to him as Will was, or maybe because Lucas had opened up to other people, especially Max, and Dustin had found his best friend in Steve. Will, on the other hand, was a sensitive boy and Mike had always been next to him until he wasn't anymore, too busy thinking about Eleven. They grew apart and he didn't even notice until Will had had enough and exploded in front of him. How to fix it? According to Steve, he had to show that he still cared for him, he had to be the first one talking and offering plans to hang out, always open to Will's rejection at first. He had to be his friend again. As for Eleven… Well, Steve told Mike that he shouldn't push something he didn't feel because then he could end up in a perfect friendship with resentment. But, the most important part was to talk to her and ask her. Eleven didn't have much experience with social life and she might not know that she had other chances. Mike hated to admit it, but stupid Steve had a point.

That being said, this little excursion with everyone helped Mike to his purpose and reinforced their friendship. There weren't more demogorgons to unite them, they had D&D and movies.

As for Steve, he decided to count every moment with Y/N as a date, he didn't care if Dustin burst in or if Eddie and Robin joined… He liked his friends and he gave up on trying to be alone with her. She thought it was a very positive way of thinking.

That's how they all ended up at the theater, occupying two different rows, with a lot of popcorn, snacks, and sodas.

Y/N had Eddie to her left, munching his popcorn fiercely, and Steve to her right, holding the popcorn they were sharing. She smiled at him when the first song started and he was very tempted to kiss her right there, although Dustin had made him promise he wouldn't make out with her in the theater.

"He's cute," she whispered to herself when Rick Moranis appeared on the scene. Eddie nodded vigorously to her affirmation while Steve looked at her with his mouth open.

"You think he's cute?" His whisper was so loud a few people complained.

"Yeah. He's small, nerdy, with big glasses, and he looks like a good dude. Very cute." Eddie kept nodding to her list. Steve looked at him.

"What about me?" He pouted.

"You're hot, Steve. Not my type, though. That, that's my type, man."

"I only said he's cute, Steve. I'm not saying I find him more attractive than you." To prove her point, she rested her head on his shoulder.

The movie was fun. The plant was sassier and more manipulative than the original, and Steve Martin as the dentist was hilarious. The fucking bike! And, of course, all the guest cast that appeared for a couple of sentences were cool. Eddie and Y/N missed the flower-eater guy from the original, played by Dick Miller. The ending was more positive in the new one than it was in the original, but that was alright.

As they got out of the theater their voices fused into an incoherent sound of places to go to grab a bite and things to eat. Steve and Y/N were a little separated from the group, watching their friends as proud parents watched their kids arguing about stupid shit. Steve was still questioning the type of boy Y/N liked best.

"Rick Moranis or Harrison Ford?"

"Steve, they're different."

"Yeah, but you must like someone better."

"Jesus Christ… I find a lot of people attractive, Steve, with different body types and different qualities. I do find Rick Moranis cute. I do find Harrison Ford hot. I do also find Tim Curry sexy as fuck in heels. Tom Cruise is too cocky for my taste, but also hot, and he knows he's hot. I think Eddie Munson, right there, is very cute and handsome, too. You're not so bad yourself."

"You think I'm too cocky too, admit it."

"I mean…" She shrugged.

"Hey, where do we eat?" Robin fit herself between Steve and Y/N unaware of their conversation.

"Ronnie's Diner sounds good for everybody? They have a large menu, and you can order from the breakfast menu even for supper time."

The option Y/N gave them seemed satisfactory for them all. Ronnie's Diner was a new establishment that had a lot of good food for a very good price. Eleven was excited about the idea of having breakfast for dinner; it didn't matter how much time had passed, she still was obsessed with Eggo's and other sweet things.

Having dinner all together was as noisy as it seemed. Several conversations took place at the same time, with people screaming from the other side of the table, laughing too hard, and eating with their mouths open. It was heartwarming. Y/N glanced at Eddie, who was explaining something very interesting and very nerdy to Will Byers, who paid him all the attention he was capable of. She could barely remember the time when there was only Eddie and her in their little bubble because people didn't approach them. Having the town wanting Eddie's head seemed so long ago… like a dying echo. Eddie's eyes met hers from across the table and the boy winked at her. Eddie deserved this, he deserved to fit in, to have people who loved him, who would bleed for him, bleed with him. Right there, at that table, there were people who would throw themselves under the bus for one another. They were family. Their family.

Steve complained about his route to drive back his friends, although he always waited until they were safe inside their houses before resuming his driving. Robin, Mike, Dustin, and then they were all alone. Y/N played with the zip of her coat in the passenger seat as the radio played quietly in the background and Steve kept complaining about the last thing Dustin had told to him.

He stopped the car in Y/N's driveway and turned the engine off. She was already staring at him when he turned.

"Do you want to come in?" She asked shyly. "It's still early. It's also the first time Eddie's not around. I mean– I know how it sounds. It's not what I was thinking. I mean– I was thinking about it. A little. Maybe. Not right now, though. Um… I mean–"

"I know what you mean, Y/N. I would love to come in. My parents aren't home again and we can watch a movie or something. It's not like something has to happen."

With that being established, they got into the house. The situation was awkward at first without Eddie to fill in the silence; they found their way in the end. An old movie was running on one of the local TV channels and they watched it for about fifteen minutes before the idea of just making out seemed the perfect thing to do in this situation.

Y/N was the one to lean into Steve's space and started the kiss. Steve asked her before putting his hands on her body. He'd never taken intimacy for granted. With Nancy, for example, he begged for kisses and knew what buttons to press for her to lower her walls and kiss him, but he never pushed her to have sex with him; when she thought she was ready, she was the one who initiated the whole thing. Unfortunately, it was also the night Barbara died so… Anyway, with his latest hook-ups after Nancy, he'd been with girls that already knew what they wanted and how they wanted; most only wanted one thing from him, that's why he ended up being an automaton until Y/N got under his skin.

The kiss became a quick succession of multiple kisses with short breaks for breath in which they stupidly smiled at each other, bumped their noses, and kissed again with red, slippery lips.

Her skin was burning, an uncomfortable tickling kept her looking for something to make it stop not knowing if she was ready for it just yet. Steve's hand, which had been enjoying her thigh over jeans, traced the hem of her jumper, crawling inside although not going up just yet, still considering the jeans a wall. She wasn't aware she had tensed up and stopped breathing until Steve took distance and, very slowly, took his hands away from her. He looked at her eyes intently searching for any sign of how to help.

"I– I'm sorry," she mumbled pitifully, hating the lump that was growing in her throat.

"Hey, don't be sorry. We won't do anything you don't want to do. It's fine."

"It's not fine! I want to, that's the worse part. I really fucking want to but this–" she gestured to herself, "this doesn't help."

"Alright."

He waited as she opened and closed her mouth a couple of times not finding the proper words to express her feelings. "You can say I never liked my body very much," she laughed joylessly. "I tried. I sometimes love my body, you know? Mostly when it's all clothed up. I used to think that my wobbly body with its stretch marks was the worst and nobody would find it attractive. I mean, people had been telling me that all my life, and the media doesn't really help, does it?" Her sad smile was killing Steve, but he stayed put, listening carefully. "Now– Now it's different. I miss those times when my major concern were my stretch marks and not having a flat abdomen. Now I have very disgusting scars that look very rough, Steve. I can barely look at myself in the mirror if I'm naked anymore. So, yeah, I want to be with you but then I think about how disgusting I look and I know you won't find it hot and–"

"Enough. That's enough." Steve brought closer some tissues from the coffee table. "I know all that there is to know about self-esteem issues, Y/N. But, look at this," he pulled up his shirt showing his abdomen; he pointed to a few thin silver lines on his sides. "I have stretch marks too. I used to be very small in middle school, and one summer I grew tall so fast that my skin broke. Not a big deal. Look at these," carefully he pointed to the awfully looking scars on his abdomen, they still looked angry pink. "Those bats got me good. Tell me, do you like me any less now that you've seen my body? It looks bad."

"Of course not. You're still attractive but that–"

"I know. You still like me although I have all these scars. Why do you think I would like you any less because of your scars? And let me remind you that I've seen you shirtless when I healed your wounds in Max's older trailer. Trust me when I tell you that I like your body. I wish you could see you as I see you, as we all see you because you have such a great amount of amazing qualities not based on your looks. You're brave, you're smart, you're funny… but, baby, you're also stunningly gorgeous, so hot and cute and beautiful. So god damn perfect that– You're perfect, Y/N."

"Steve…"

He sighed running a hand through his hair. "I'm the opposite of you," now it was his turn to smile sadly. "While you're so confident in everything but your looks, all I have are mine. Yup. Do you want to know how many friends I had until I helped Dustin Henderson hunt that stupid demodog? None. Not even one. Even since primary school, kids just came close to me because my family got money and if they played with me I bought them stuff.

"Yeah… I'm not smart. Never been. According to my dear father, I'm a waste of time, space, and oxygen. Cool, isn't it? I'm not good to study. I'm not good to work. My social skills are expired and the only thing I was barely decent at was sports, although I never actually win anything. So, worthless. I'm fucking worthless. I– Jesus, Y/N, I try every day to be useful, to be reliable, to be unexpendable because I am. I am expendable. What do I have to offer? Really. Let's be honest here, I don't have anything to offer but my looks, my hair, and my stupidity."

"Steve!"

"It's true!! I'm still waiting for you to come to your senses and see that you can do much better than me because I'm not worthy and–"

Her hand covered his mouth forbidding him to keep talking. "None of that is true, Steve."

Slowly, carefully and with affection, he took her hand away from his mouth and held it between his. He looked at it for a few seconds before smiling sadly again. "It's what I've been hearing my whole life, Y/N. I'll give anything to be able to look at me the same way you all do because you seem to have a very different idea of me that the one I'm familiar with. It's something I can't control, though. Sometimes it overpowers me. Other times I can control it. Those are my self-esteem issues.

"What I'm trying to say is that I understand when that echo hunts you down and you're unable to control it. I just want you to know that I'm not going anywhere. I'm still going to be here if you have me. I don't mind waiting ten days or ten fucking years for you to be comfortable enough to be naked around me, I'll be here. And let me assure you, that the moment you let me I'm going to worship you and your body the way you deserve."

Words had been spoken. Feelings had been shared. They were both exhausted and decided to go to sleep. It didn't take much for Steve to stay the night in one of the guests' rooms, just for her to ask. The perspective of going back to his empty house, alone after opening his heart wasn't very appealing. Also, after a few nights of staying over with Eddie and Robin, Steve owned one of the guests' rooms and had placed a few clothing items there, which made him feel more at home than in his own bedroom.

The echo of the voices from his past didn't allow him to have a proper rest that night. Y/N had been the first person he'd trusted with his real issues, his real feelings, and his mind had decided that was the perfect trigger to just torment him all night long. He got a couple of hours of sleep once he was too exhausted to even think; he still woke up too early and decided to prove himself of use by cooking some breakfast for his girlfriend. He made pancakes, scrambled eggs, french toast, and bacon. Y/N didn't drink coffee, but she had a huge jar of orange juice, so he poured a couple of glasses.

All the cooking had consumed so much time that he thought it was a good idea to go woke Y/N. He took off the apron he'd borrowed and climbed the stairs.

"Good morning, honey. I made us breakf–"

Steve swallowed at the sight before his eyes. Y/N was in her underwear in front of a big mirror in her bedroom, looking intently at herself. She glanced at him to acknowledge his presence but did nothing to cover herself up.

Her night hadn't been nice either. She'd woken up to the muffled noise of Steve cooking in her kitchen. Since she'd been out of the hospital she had covered that mirror in her room, a big body-sized mirror, with a sheet that was now laying on the floor. She had gotten out of her bed with a purpose and she felt more powerful now. How long had she been looking at her naked body in the reflection? Hours. She wasn't sure how many hours, but enough for her to stop seeing its ugliness and start seeing the story behind it. She was a survivor. She was a protector.

Steve's presence made her anxious, nonetheless. Well, maybe not anxious but excited, nervous. She wanted him to do or say something that proved his point from last night. She needed that.

"Can I– Um… May I come in?" He asked shyly from the door.

"Yeah…" Her voice was raspy from sleep and disuse.

The young man took measured steps closing the distance between him and his girlfriend not wanting to break the enchantment she seemed to be under. He could see, on the reflection, that she was bound and determined, fiercely looking at herself as if challenging her reflection to provoke her rage.

He placed himself on her back admiring the way her skin broke into goosebumps when the fabric of his clothes barely touched her naked skin. He found her eyes on the reflection, already looking at him, already expecting him to do or say something. Wetting his lips, Steve placed his hands close to her sides, hovering over the area.

"May I touch you?" His needy whisper made her gasp a yes.

Steve's hands weren't cautious when they touched her, they didn't caress her scars with feathery fingers like they could reopen the wounds. He just touched her, recreating himself in every touch trying to take in as much skin as his hands could handle. Closing the distance between their bodies, he pressed her against his front and she leaned in enjoying the warmth. His right hand abandoned her side to place itself in the middle of her chest, just at the end of her sternum, his thumb slipping under her bra just between her breasts. His left hand also abandoned her side, covering the whole area of her belly until he was touching her other side, holding her in place. Steve nuzzled behind her ear. "May I kiss you?" He asked and she couldn't find the voice to say yes, she just gave him room on her scared neck and he enjoyed every inch of it.

The reflection in her mirror showed her pure lust, desire, and love. She would still have her self-esteem issues hunt her down from time to time, of course, but as Steve had told her, some days were better than others.

Y/N grabbed Steve's hair, pulling it to move him away. He moaned in her ear before locking glances with her; she was staring right into his soul and he was doing the same. Steve gave her enough room for her to turn around, not quite tearing his hands away from her. She slipped her hands under his shirt feeling the rough scars under her fingertips; she grabbed him harder making him groan.

"Steve. Take it off?"

One fluid movement and he was shirtless.

They shared a kiss then. This kiss wasn't like the others, it didn't start slow and build its intensity up, no, it started strong, heated, and hot. His hands touched her back until they reached her butt and squished it. She smiled at the kiss and let him try to pick her up. She was all about trying new things now, why not?

Steve fucking Harrington picked her up like she weighed nothing and walked, with her surrounding his hips, towards the bed. He did as he promised he would. After asking, of course, he worshiped her taking his time with every inch of skin, never rushing, always with his adoration for her in mind. He wanted to show her, to let her know how much he liked her.

How much he truly loved her.

*

On April 15th, 1987, Aunt Catherine showed up in the middle of a date. Y/N and Steve were saying their goodbyes still in his car, in front of her house, with rain pouring outside. She was caressing his face, trailing her fingers through his neck while kissing him. Moaning, Steve leaned into her space, holding his weight with one hand on the back of her seat and the other against the dashboard. The car wasn't very comfortable for a make-out session but, boy, how he was enjoying it.

A rapid succession of knocks in his window scared the shit out of both of them. Aunt Catherine was on the other side, showing her always perfect face without a raindrop in it; she was wearing a yellow raincoat and holding a red umbrella. She made a gesture with her head towards the house and started walking. Steve and Y/N looked at each other dumbfounded before getting out of the car and running towards the house getting soaked in the process.

Before they could even think about asking Aunt Catherine about what she wanted she gave them both a file.

"May I tempt you to accept a job proposal? We've been watching you and the way you dealt with the Underworld, as we call it, was remarkable. We're aware that your feelings for Hawkins and your friends played an important role in your performance. We've been thinking that, with Hawkins being the center of weird activity in the States, having a permanent guardian would be the most appropriate thing to do. We'll teach you the little things you still don't know, both medical and tactics, although we also expect you to instruct our agents; I don't know how, but they're unable to recreate your actions. So?"

"Wait– Wait, who is 'we'?" Y/N had an idea, of course.

"The government?" Steve guessed.

"Oh, no, sweetheart. Not the government. We're an independent agency that tries to prevent useless governments from unleashing forces they would be unable to control."

"I'm sorry, Aunt Catherine, but I have to say you're not doing your job very well," Y/N complained. "Like, the Russians have a whole lab slash prison with demomonsters in it."

"Not anymore, but I get your point. That's why I'm offering you a job. I've already talked to Jim Hopper and his daughter, Jane. They accepted, of course, even if it was only to have access to our files. We're not so sure about Nancy Wheeler, yet. She might leak our existence to the press, you know? Also, Dustin Henderson and Mike Wheeler are still too young to even think about it."

"Why do you want us, exactly?" Steve looked at her warily.

"Your leadership skills, teamwork, planning… there's something in you, in both of you, that we need in our fight. Before you ask, we don't have political tendencies or an evil plan, we don't want to study and use the Underworld. No. We want to keep it separate from us and keep everybody safe."

Did they sign? As might've been expected, they did, in fact, sign after some negotiations of course. Robin was pretty good with foreign languages and she could be an asset in the communication department. Eddie… Eddie could be trained. Aunt Catherine expected that already and just laughed as she lent them a beautiful fountain pen to sign their contracts.

*

On July 11th, 1990, a familiar car parked right in front of Family Video. The moment the two nineteen year-old boys saw it, they ran behind the counter in an effort to busy themselves. They elbowed each other and stepped into each other's feet. The door opened and two regular customers of the video store entered the deserted place.

"Hello, boys. Do you have anything new?" the twenty-three-year-old woman asked them with a toothy grin as her fiancé put on the counter the tapes they were returning.

"You asked the same thing yesterday, Y/N. No, we don't have anything new," Mike stated taking the tapes away from the counter.

"This customer service is awful. I was much better," Steve complained.

"Well, we'll probably be nicer to you if you actually came here for rent stuff and not to bother us," Dustin argued.

Faking a gasp of surprise Steve looked around the store. "Point number one, Henderson, the store is dead. Point number two, you little shits were always in my jobs when I was trying to work."

"How resentful."

"Revenge, baby. So, movies. We need movies," he gave a look to his fiancée, who was playing with the ringer on her finger absently. He still couldn't believe how lucky he was.

"Robin's been down lately, and we want to cheer her up. Some recommendations?" she smiled sweetly at the boys. Mike blushed, as he always did, and disappeared with her between the corridors to find some movies to take with her.

Steve still couldn't believe that those young men with Family Video uniforms were once the little shits he knew. Both of them had been admitted to MIT and only came down to Hawkins for summer work at the store; a very good job they got thanks to him and his influence with Keith, thank you very much. It still was sad that Will Byers was too tied up to San Francisco to come more than twice a year, and Lucas Sinclair was working his ass out in Chicago. Jane went to community college and worked the weekends and holidays at Ronnie's Diner; a year ago she decided that she was tired of the whole Eleven thing because she wasn't a number anymore, she was a human and her name was Jane Hopper. Mike's friendship with Will had gotten better with time, but not as it used to be, and his relationship with Jane finally broke; they were still good friends, though. Max had had some identity crisis and spent her first year since graduation working at Ronnie's Diner until she found what she wanted to do, just like Steve in a way, because she also got to the conclusion that she wanted to be a police officer.

Jonathan and Nancy lived in Indianapolis working for the best newspaper in Indiana. Robin took a job teaching music at Hawkins Middle School as well as the very secret job with The Agency. Eddie was a great car mechanic and his charm provided him with very loyal clients; also The Agency. Both of them lived with Steve and Y/N who were just a couple of straight people taking care of the gay disasters they had as friends. He was a police officer and she was the new librarian; plus the very secret and dangerous job with The Agency, of course.

If Steve looked carefully at Y/N, he could see the greenish shadow on her jaw, a testimony of the last encounter with a demogorgon that had bruised her. He didn't like the idea of the person he loved being in danger so often, but damn she looked so hot with her sword in hand fighting monsters…

"You should come, seriously," Steve turned in his surroundings. Y/N was trying to convince Mike of something. "Eddie's upset. He believes you're mad at him."

Dustin scoffed at her words and Mike busied himself with the new tapes they were renting.

"I'm not mad."

"What happened then?"

"It's just–" for a moment it looked like he was going to lie. "Have you seen his new boyfriend?" Mike exploded. "Eddie can do so much better! Why that loser? He's at least two hundred years old and I'm sure he's a pervert. I don't trust him. I don't like him."

"Jealousy doesn't look good on you, Wheeler."

"Shut up, Steve!"

With all the patience in the world, Y/N took Mike's hand between hers. "Honey, Alan is the sweetest man on earth. He's nerdy and cute. He cares about Eddie and loves him very much. He looks a bit like Rick Moranis and he's not two hundred years old, Michael, he's my age."

"He also bakes."

"Great priorities, Steve," Dustin claimed.

"Hey, man, I'm just saying. Eddie loves sweets and he got himself a man that bakes."

"At least you should meet Alan before complaining about him, don't you think?" She tried to be helpful.

"Like that would work! I already knew Steve before you two started dating, and I told you not to do it. I told you you could do better. Look at you now! You're about to be a Harrington."

"Hey!!"

"Well, you were trying to pair her up with Eddie," Dustin noted.

"Yeah, no shit. If they had told me that he was gay I wouldn't have."

"Mike, dude, don't you have a crush on some very smart boy or girl in your nerdy college?"

"Shut up!"

"That's a yes," Y/N staged whispered to her fiancé.

"I hate you both."

"Every time you say that I believe you less and less, honeybun."

Blushing, stunned due to the pet name, Mike was unable to answer which gave Dustin the perfect opportunity to finally talk to someone about Mike's crushes.

"He has a big fat crush on the very young Assistant Professor Prescott, Richie Prescott."

"Shut up!!"

"There's also this girl in one of our classes… Samantha Goldman, I think. Oh, and that boy from the dorm, Timmy something."

"I fucking hate you. All of you."

"Well, Dustybun, not all of us can find the love of our lives in a science camp, can we?" She changed the subject.

"True. Suzie and I are happier than ever. Her dad's still against the relationship, but I think my mom's convincing him."

"A battle between them must be epic," Steve stated.

A bunch of teenagers entered the store. One of the girls looked at Steve and blushed.

"Now we have work. Get out."

"So bossy, Michael. Remember, tomorrow after your shift. Come home and talk to Eddie."

Leaving the store behind felt wrong somehow for Steve. A part of him missed working behind the counter with Robin, waiting for Y/N to show up every day. He used to think he hated the moment she crushed on him, that time when he didn't quite know her, but now he was mature enough to confess that the moment she entered the store and talked to him, looked at him with sparkling eyes and smiles shyly were his favorites moments of the day. His most beloved regular customer walked to the driver’s door of his car and arched an eyebrow at him when he stared at the store instead of getting inside the passenger seat.

"Are you alright, Steve?"

Turning towards her, he smiled, "I love you."

The end.

This series was a great journey I'm glad I took. I hope you liked it. I might write some more Steve Harrington x Reader fics in the future, maybe even some Eddie Munson x Reader, and Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson x Reader. If you have requests, plots or suggestions don't be shy, I'm open to new ideas. Thank you for your love and support. 

Taglist:  @marvelsmylife @untitledarea @golden-wander @mess-in-side @sandrayaret @the-winter-spider @ladyravenclaw  @thorfemmes @tooearlyforthis @mxdramanana​ @fujiihime​ @blueberry-birdie​ @p-rspective​ @thesnoweclipse​ @simpingfortoomanypeople @bibliophilewednesday @lovesanimals0000 @renaroo123 @thechoiceslookgrimm @xoprincessmel @m-rae23 @qardasngan

[miridiums-writing]

Barbarian Bakugou x Petite!Villager!Reader

Part 2

Summary ; reader lives in village that is ravaged by bararians, bakugou catches them and finds out they are mates

Warnings ; violence, there is implied sexual assault but it never happens kinda like a passing thought. I never actually state gender though reader does wear a dress, so if your someone who doesn’t like wearing dresses then you might have trouble fitting into the narrative. REMEMBER ANYONE CAN WEAR A DRESS, I WILL HYPE YOU UP. they eat in it, also they eat meat so if you’re vegetarian or anything of the sort you probably won’t relate, Bakugou yes he is a warning.

AUTHORS NOTE ; if you want a part 2 let me know, also if you want a part with a plus sized reader instead of a petite reader let me know. Reading @thetrashywritingwitch gave me inspiration so definitely check them out

Word count : 2k

Barbarian!Bakugou x plus-sized!reader part 1

The village was alight, red ran rampant through the streets, the screams of young and old mixing to create a noise that would give anyone a headache. You were running as fast as you could, no shoes on, trying to pick up your skirts as you ran. You had been woken by a scream and hadn’t thought to put on shoes before you ran to escape the sea of arrows shot at your home. People dragged younger ones through the wreckage, others cried, others shouting for loved ones. Nobody seemed to be left unscathed.

Your feet were in tatters at this point, having ran through rocks and glass to get here. Your only motivation that got you this far, even with the pain you were in, was the orphanage at the top on town. On a slight hill further away from the village, secluded in a way. You hoped against hope the children were ok. You dodged through fire, adrenaline coursing through your veins. You had to make it. You had to keep them safe. Though in your blind panic you didn’t notice the figure stealthily following after you.

You were running up the hill now, twigs that littered the woods floor poking into your poor feet, causing you to slow slightly, but your determination kept you from walking. Just as the orphanage came into sight arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you off the ground. You kicked in attempt to get away, hoping against hope you could escape, get to them. Those kids did nothing to deserve the pain. Your attempts did nothing but tire you more, your hope of escape starting to slip from your grasp. “Stay still dammit” a gruff voice stated. He moved you both back, further into the woods, blocking your view of the orphanage and kept you still.

“Oi Kirishima! Keep those idiots away from the orphanage” He called out further into the woods, not second later a muscular man with spiky hair and even spikier teeth seemed to appear in an instant and disappear just as quickly. With the disappearance of the other man he moved you so you could finally see his face, though his grip on you never loosened. If you were honest with yourself, he was rather pretty. Hard red eyes stared into yours and seemed to judge your appearance as you gaped at him. His blond locks spiked out, much more naturally than the other mans, he had a defined jawline, and a look that screamed danger. In your curiosity you failed to notice how odd this whole situation was. Here you were being held down by an intimidation and rather frightening man, but you felt no fear towards him.

“Found you” he said, looking at you with a smirk as his face moved closer to yours. Just as you thought he was going to kiss you his face moved lower to your neck and started to pepper kisses and nips into the sensitive skin. You tensed in his hold, not sure what he was about to do, and scared for the outcome that seemed inevitable. Just then he roughly bit into your neck, causing you to shriek at the vast difference from what he was doing before and the pain that started to thump against your neck like a drum. When he was satisfied, he started to lick at your neck, no doubt cleaning up the blood. “There, now that’s sorted time to clean you up and get moving” Rather than letting you walk with him he picked up and set you on his hip, like a child. “If you move or cause trouble ill carry you in a more uncomfortable fashion got it” At his threat you tensed once more and nod in agreement. You had no idea what he could do to you and honestly, you didn’t want to find out.

He carried you both down the hill and towards the town, he hadn’t told you his name and didn’t seem in the mood for light conversation, so you stayed quiet, not wanting to anger the man further than he already seemed to be. When you both got back to the village it was silent. A stark difference between the village you had left behind, and it set you on edge. He must have noticed how you had started to shake a little, though he didn’t say anything on it. “Hide you face into my shoulder, quickly” he said, his voice slightly softer than earlier, though it didn’t stop the unease. Just as you opened your mouth to question it, he gave you a glare that made you close it instantly. You ducked your head down into his neck and froze against his side, questions swarming your mind. “right let’s move out” he shouted, his voice seeming even more loud now you were against his neck, making you cringe slightly. With one hand now taking your weight he hoisted onto a horse, repositioning you in front of him to lean against his chest. “Get some sleep, its gonna be a long ride princess”

When you woke you were still in his arms, though you were now wrapped up in a fur coat, keeping you warm from the wind. If you didn’t think about the fact he basically kidnapped you it could almost be sweet. He had positioned you in a way that meant the brunt of the wind was hitting against the fur coat, keeping you toasty warm. He was looking ahead, no doubt keeping control of the horse, though you did notice how he would glance down at you. Due to your position you couldn’t really see anything, giving in to the temptation of going back to sleep for now, who knew when you would be able to sleep again, you let your eyes closed and allowed yourself to relax, your head snuggling into his warm chest.

Your eyes fluttered open at a loud shout, startling you from the fragile sleep you had managed to get. “We’re almost there” He claimed, glancing down at your sleepy form curled into him. Cute. The thought was a fleeting one, but it made him freeze up slightly, he hoped you didn’t notice. This mate stuff was making him soft. The horse abruptly came to a stop and the man carefully picked you up into his arms bridal style. You noticed almost immediately this was much gentler than he had been previously, and honestly threw you for a loop. On one hand this was much nicer treatment than previously, even if he hadn’t been particularly bad, on the other hand what does this entail, does he want something in return? The man carried you inside what looked like a large tent and placed you down on a bed covered with fur blankets and looked rather nice and warm to cuddle up in.

“Look here’s the deal,” he said, sitting down on the floor before you, making your face in line with his. “You’re my mate, kinda like a soulmate, I guess. It’s a feeling. My name’s Bakugou Katsuki by the way. Call my Katsuki though, it’ll just piss me off if you call me anything else. Just, listen to what I say. Ill go get you some food, you look like you need it.” As Katsuki walks away you could hear him mutter under his breath “Skinny as anything” When he had officially left, and you decided he was far enough away you started to look around. The tent was rather spacious, but not to the point it was cold. If anything, it was so warm in here. Like an invisible fire was somewhere in the room keeping it warm. The tent itself smelled like wood pine and honeysuckle, and a hint of caramel, it felt more homely than your old village ever did. You knew you had to think through what he had told you, but you didn’t want to even think about it. Taken away from your home after it having been destroyed by them and he tells you you’re his soulmate and you need to listen him.

When Katsuki got back you were cocooned in the blankets, sure the room was warm, but as the night air drew in the rooms temperature seemed to drop drastically, so you had taken it upon yourself to collect all the blankets and pile them onto of yourself. Katsuki stood at the entrance dumbfounded at the sight, as in comparison he stood tall in his trousers and fur coat, with his necklace and earrings to adorn the look. He wasn’t used to feeling cold. He would need to thank his parents later for getting on at him to make sure he had enough blankets for his mate when it got cold. He placed the food down on the table and started picking apart the blankets until he revealed you, cuddling into yourself. “Look, I know its cold but you gotta eat, come on” He allows you to get yourself up, though you take one of the smaller blankets with you to combat the cold.

The meal itself wasn’t anything special. A meat of some kind with potatoes and asparagus. You were so hungry you ate it without question, too hungry to care. He watched you from the other side of the table, it made you slightly self-conscious but brushed it off as his thing, he had a habit of watching you. When you finished you made sure to tidy up your area as best as you could, not wanting to seem impolite. This made Katsuki scoff at you, your insecurity coming back quickly.

“Bed time” was all he said, even though you had been sleeping most of the day, the thought of curling up into the blanket seemed heavenly. As you climbed into the bed, securing yourself under the furs Katsuki came in behind you. He simply brought your body to his, circling his body around yours in a protective manner. With him so close to you, you found it hard to fall asleep. Though Katsuki seemed to find it easy, simply snuggling his face into your neck and falling asleep. You decided to go through your options. Option one, stay still and go to sleep unknowing to what could happen tomorrow, though by his current attitude and behaviour you now highly doubted it being too dangerous, or option two, somehow manage to escape his iron grip and run out of the tent, with no knowledge of where you were, how far from home, or what could be outside the tent. The thought of meeting something worse than Katsuki made you shiver and slightly move closer to him. At least you knew what he was capable of, plus you had the added protection that he claimed you as his mate, those usually ended happily. No one wanted to endanger their mate, it went against Barbarian law. Something you vaguely remembered researching when you were young and curious. With those thoughts in mind you allowed yourself to succumb to the warmth Katsuki provided and fall into a broken sleep.

Please reblog, it helps my tumblr grow and makes me wanna write more

[saleintothe90s]

454. Seventeen, Prom Edition, March, 1995

Okay so this issue is a HUGE one for me. This was the first issue of Seventeen I ever bought when I was 11 years old. This is the actual copy, no rebuying off eBay! Somehow she survived, and I found her in the storage unit a few summers ago.

I remember flipping through this thinking that I too would go to prom one day. I've mentioned before that I did not since I was a fat, ugly, social pariah by 2001.

We're still in that era of "this ran in a TEEN magazine?!" like last time.

Look at that list of all those dead department stores.

Ha, Courtly Love. I just got that.

We all know that only Pam Beesly wore Keds after the 5th grade:

FINALLY, after 27 years and thanks to archive.org, I'm finally able to see this "grabbing boob" shot Julie & Erin noticed from the December, 1994 issue:

Speaking of boobs --- this is one story that is still seared in my memory.

and these waitress dresses are seared in memory! I wanted these so bad, but you know, they wern't selling these in plus size back then.

I nearly had this reaction when I saw the red outfit. I remember it so well! I thought that slip thingy....looked better than that red dress. Those black accessories are fire, but that dress (you can barely make it out, but its white on top) isn't it.

As a kid, I thought that pink dress was redid, but now I LOVE it.

All of the steps we had to do because setting spray and makeup primer didn't exist back then.

Yas, let's all go out like this tomorrow.

This look involved an eyeliner and three, t h r e e lipsticks.

This young lady was predicting the future with this makeup look.

I've mentioned before that I was a pretty dumb kid. 11 year old me legit thought Loralie was suggesting that you wear that bustier and jeans to the prom. 'cuz anything went in fashion back in 1995.

I adore Winnie, she looks like my niece in law. Also, another predictor of the future of fashion. It reminds me of the Gwenyth Paltrow dress at the 1999 Oscars.

Dear lord, I had completely forgotten about Stella's candy wrapper red dress with those amazing shoes with the socks. This was my favorite look from these girls. I wish I was more talented with the sewing machine to recreate that dress. I need it in a size 18.

This dress is cute, but it looks a little too causal for prom.

Oh wait, never mind, this is too casual for prom.

1. she's 14

2. 'Pretty sure I saw that dress at Deb a few years later.

3. that backpack purse looks handmade and tragic.

4. I thought hat MAC sequin lipstikck was still being made, it's not.

Those ribbon flowers are very ... elementary school.

This is another page I remember vividly, even the little "bad guys might watch tv, but they never read seventeen" footnote. Hidden Edge, the cell phone look a like, isn't fooling anybody. More on the product:

Hidden Edge from Defenders Network, Inc. is chock full of interesting features. It is a combination siren and spray device disguised as a radio, camera or cellular phone. The pepper spray has a range of 10 to 12 feet and the siren screams at an ear piercing 130 dB sound level.

One of the most common fears of those who carry any sort of personal defense is that it will be used against them. The makers of Hidden Edge have taken this into account and furnished the unit with a “safety pin” that disarms the spray if the attacker attempts to use the device against its owner. If the attacker grabs the unit away from the owner, the wrist strap is connected to a disarming pin that drops the spray canister into the body of the device, rendering it inoperable. 1

Yes, that drawing does look like Jenna Marbles that time she tried being an e girl. Did Austin start that short lived trend in the late summer of 1996 where Claires and Spencers sold all sorts of Pillsbury Doughboy stuff? I had the keychain, but I wore him like a necklace at the beginning of the 8th grade.

It's a no on that Jacket. It's very Peggy Hill:

That middle dress is sad too. That looks like the dress us plus size girls would have as our only option.

I wanted to be Annie so bad. That STYLE.

Tanya Donelly was fascinated by CD-Rom.

These ideas are cute, but stupid.

Sadly, I tore out this page out of my issue and put it on my wall when I was 12. I believe the model's dress was a copper color.

I love these stories about young girl inventors. I found a couple of Double Decker Cookie Bakers on eBay:

Predicting the future, yet again.

Finally, in closing there are two articles that I have copies of that are way too big to post:

I just had this memory of bringing this issue with me to either a Girl Scout meeting or a Girl Scout field trip, and one of the younger girls laughing at the Midol ad and pointing at the girl's butt.

The rest of the zine making article is above, where the breast removal article ends.

IndexArticles. ‘It’s a Phone, It’s a Pen … No, It’s Pepper Spray’, 1994. https://indexarticles.com/sports/shooting-industry/its-a-phone-its-a-pen-no-its-pepper-spray/.

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[fatgothgf]

tee I’d love your advice, I’m so happy for you that you’ve found your calling in fashion! I’m a fat (and also short) gal and I carry most of my weight in my stomach, aka I have no hips or ass to accentuate. my stomach makes me pretty self-conscious, but I don’t have a problem with my arms/legs/chest etc. what styles of clothes should I try out for my kind of figure? do you have any brands or designers to recommend?

it's something you hear all the time if you're fat but, high waisted stuff really does a lot of work. i have a similar body shape/situation, and i basically always wear stuff that cinches in the natural dip of my waist, which bc im short and fat is like 3 inches under my tits

also, a lot of 'plus sized' clothing patterns, esp fast fashion, are not properly adjusted from straight sizes to plus sizes. there is almost never enough fabric to make dresses and skirts truly fit the way theyre meant to on larger bodies bc they want to cut costs. full circle skirts and other flowy garments that flare out under your waist are great, for obvious reasons

i say all this but. you dont have to hide your stomach. i dont always take that advice to heart either, but as i type all this i feel like im perpetuating the idea that fat people have to hide their bodies in any way for any reason. but at the end of the day you cant solve insecurities in one day, so its better to have ways to combat them in the mean time.

in your journey through fashion, finding out what you like on your body and what works for you, dont be afraid to step out of the 'slimming' comfort zone. try stuff that you dont feel like you're allowed to wear. the more you do it, the more you realize you look just fine, and you can wear anything.

[verymaudlin]

alternative clothing stores that aren’t dollskill or kill star (PLUS SIZE FRIENDLY) {UPDATED}

Trash Queen (great plus size clothes AND cool accessories)

Sourpuss Clothes (great plus size dresses)

Rebels Market (not super plus size friendly, but do have sizes up to 2XL, great accessories and shoes though)

Tragic Beautiful (sizes up to 4XL, beware some Killstar stuff is sold on there)

Unique Vintage (many many plus size options, perfect for 50s inspired goth/punk looks)

Unif Clothing (not super plus size friendly but they do have L and XL, great shoes and accessories though)

BlackMeoww (clothes up to 3XL, great accessories)

Punk Rave (plus size options vary)

Disturbia (British company with sizes going up to American size 16, i think?)

Berserk (Australian company. decent plus size options, as well as accessories and beauty products)

Creepy Co (horror/creepy themed shirts and buttons with a good diversity of sizes)

Gloomth (incredible gothic/lolita/weirdgirl fashion that runs up to 5XL, but I bet you can ask Taeden (owner) to custom make to your sizes. I have 3 gloomth dresses that I wear ALL THE TIME. totally worth their price.)

Kinky Angel (yes this is intended to be ~sexy kinky clothes~ but we all know that aesthetic intersects with alt/goth aesthetic a LOT. sizes go up to 4X)

Devil Inspired  (the clothes aren’t plus size friendly but the accessories and shoes are so delicious it’s worth a look, be warned that it’s a price markup of TaoBao)

Atomic Cherry (good plus size options!)

In Control Clothing (plus size kawaii clothes)

NastyGem (no clothes but reasonably priced alt accessories)

The Dark Attitude has goth pants that go up to 5XL.

Also Threadless and Wicked Clothes have good dark tees!

Also Etsy has amazing alt-clothing vendors that do custom sizes and cater to plus size people!

plus size friendly Etsy shops:

missOctopie (cute spooky kawaii clothes that go up to 3XL ((which means something different in every store so you just have to check)))

Later Operator not clothes but really fun jewelry

Nemons cool dark tees that go up to 2XL in unisex which is 52″ in chest, 46″ in waist.

Gobbolino again not clothes but they’re worth putting on there for their truly outlandish accessories.

KawaiiDressShop which has tons of cute lolita-esque dresses that go up to 5XL

Narcissique Couture does custom sizing on all their clothes

InkedStaind cool goth dresses that go up to 4XL

SophieandHerStore really decadent cool goth accessories like elizabethan standing collars

VrolokClothing a neat goth store that goes up to 3XL in its sizing

AdamandLilith do dark tees up to 3X

MortusViventi has shirts up to 3X

Designerdressstore has pants that go up to 50″ in the waist

Also let me know if you’ve heard bad things about any of these websites, I will reblog with corrections! Feel free to add any you know of as well!

[cumulohimbus]

So I don't actually know all that much about fashion and sewing, and I'm sure I committed plenty of stitching sins along the way, but my goal was to design and fabricate an original dress for myself that incorporated my "divine masculine and feminine energies"™️, and actually made me feel good about my body. I achieved that so I'd call it an overall success.

If you want to know more about my process and inspiration see below.

I don't really know what to call the style of dress, it was inspired by sundresses and bouffant style skirts, and I incorporated a bit of a front button-up like I've seen on some rompers and romp-hims.

The dress is white and patterned with navy blue dachshunds on surfboards interspersed with little gray dots. The dachshunds on red striped surfboards are wearing light blue striped shirts and those on teal striped surfboards are wearing orange striped shirts. It has tank top style straps that widen over the shoulder to help make my shoulders look broader; this coupled with the square neckline implies an inverted triangle shape, at least as far as my upper body goes. It has four, 1 inch diameter, wooden buttons front and center of the bodice.

The skirt is a full circle skirt with a total of five 'pleats' or 'tucks' - again, not super solid on terminology. There is an unpatterned teal band around the top of the skirt which helps conceal the tuck stitches, especially the one in the very front which got a bit messy where I messed up a bit on my calculations. In the back of the skirt there are two additional panels, one in white polyester, the other in the same surfing dachshund pattern used for the rest of the dress. Each panel layer gets longer and narrower, and on top of it all is a large plain teal butterfly bow matching the band at the top of the skirt and concealing the seam of the matching teal band at the back of the dress.

The majority of the dress is made of bedsheets I found at a thrift store (yeah, apparently someone didn't want their surfing dachshund sheet set...), and has an under layer of plain white sheets for added structure, opacity, and the ability to hold up better over time.

Where the skirt begins, and its size and shape were designed to both be a little flirty and to hide the parts of my body that I still tend to feel disgusted by (it's a work in progress).

I've always liked dresses with fitted tops and billowy bottoms because they consistently look decent on my body type. Since I've had top surgery though, naturally it has become tougher for me to find dresses at all that won't look weird given the changes in my upper body shape ^^' (a perfectly fine problem to have, especially now that I feel slightly more confident in my clothes-making abilities). Even before top surgery though, I still had trouble finding dresses that fit me, weren't overly expensive, and that I actually felt good about wearing. Cheaper garments were less likely to fit me even when they were labeled as my size, and/or suffered in their quality, and more expensive stuff was out of my price range. Overall, this project can't have cost me more than $35 (granted I already had a sewing machine, was able to borrow a clothes iron, and snagged some free newsprint paper to draft my pattern on from an art studio space at my university).

I also wanna say: plus size people deserve so much better from the fashion industry! In fact, literally everyone of every shape and size would be far better off without the fast fashion industry for a variety of reasons. Personally speaking, I would so much rather purchase my fabric and materials and make my own clothes or go to a tailor/seamstress/artist/craftsperson, and pay them to make garments specifically for me. It would ensure that the fit of the garments was genuine while also matching my desired aesthetic. So much of the clothing I admire is rarely, if ever, made in my size. On this note, I wanna plug Rebirth garments specifically...

I discovered them while researching LGBT+ clothing resources for a different, unrelated project. They tailor make clothing and accessories, especially for trans, queer, and differently abled people, and they also have a program to offer free/reduced price garments for people in need (I believe their custom orders are unfortunately closed atm as they are in the process of building a new shop). It was a video they shared of them working with a customer that inspired me to even attempt to make a full garment for myself in the first place uvu.

And finally, I just wanna say specifically to masculine identifying people, especially those who may be figuring out and/or experimenting with their gender, and especially especially those who are built bigger and/or hairier: 'fat' is not a four letter word, and you don't owe anybody 'masculinity'. Your identity transcends the clothing accessible to you. It sucks not being able to find or get the clothes that speak to who you are, and I just want you to know that you don't need to learn much more than the basics to be able make stuff for yourself that are both comfortable and make you feel like a heccin' superstar!

[papirouge]

Is Abercrombie better now as a brand? I’ve gone back to see their inventory and I like their stuff now. Let loud and I even found a pack of three t shirts that’s just cotton. I wanna watch that White Hot documentary too

Yeah it's still out there, but they rebranded big time. They changed the creative director (the new one is a woman) and the whole brand aesthetic changed. They hired LGBT+ celebrities as brand ambassador along with plus size models, models of color... Even if you check their website at this very moment, you can be 100% sure there is at least 1 model of color in the landing page - that's by design :) lol

The end of the White Hot documentary elaborates on how they made a total overhaul of the brand to not fall into irrelevance. Their image was too damaged (discrimination lawsuits, aging aesthetic, etc) to keep going unchecked anyway.

Controversial opinion, but I didn't mind the pasty White brand image of the OG Abercrombie. Every brand is entitled to pick whatever demographic they want to target, and if that's hot & skinny White frat boys & girls, so be it idc lol What really bothered me was the discrimination of the Black & Asian sales (wo)men at the shop and sexual misconducts allegations against the creative director and Bruce Weber (who photographed the emblematic campaigns of the brand, and of wgom several male models said was sexually predatory - mind you, some of these models were minor at that time....)

But since I'm a sucker for normcore, I kinda digged OG Abercrombie aesthetic🥴 Brand is still ok, but its aesthetic is less distinctive somehow. Looks like a Urban Outfitters 2.0 now.

Same for American Apparel which is still to this day one of my favorite fashion brand and shares the same history of controversial history of problematic creative director/team lol

The brand got harmed a lot bc of Terry Richardson (who was like the exclusive photographer of the brand campaign) sexual misconducts allegations. He still popularized soft porn and elevated AA campaign as icon status.

My problematic trait is that I actually liked AA campaigns 🥴🥴 Sure some are brazenly porn gaze'd but I just loved their raw and lowkey outrageous energy overall. Scrotes just shouldn't be able to see them lol

I just find them so cool 🥴💗

These women (who for the most part weren't even professional models) barely wore any make up, looked normal & healthy/not photoshopped to death, body hair... It's crazy how people who dunk on zoomers forget how subversive millennial youth culture was🥴

AA is still around there as well but after kicking their creative director & closing down ALL their physical stores in the world they downscaled so much barely anyone knows they're still around lol They withdrew 80% of their original catalog and what's left is just lackluster. And their campaigns aren't nearly as cool anymore :/

RIP American Apparel. Your jersey dresses -that shrank half of their after washing them- were everything<3

[peachyteabuck]

♡ calm after the storm ♡

summary: post-wedding day bliss, a commission for @bravevesperia01​

pairing: natasha romanoff x reader

words: 5,010

trigger warnings: sickening fluff, strap ons, vaginal fingering, light allusions to carolnat, overstimulation

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

The wedding was perfect, everything you had imagined. You had the perfect dress, the perfect flowers, the perfect guests, the perfect catering, the perfect venue, the perfect wife.

But, even as you celebrated and beamed and cried happy tears and held hands and kissed and exchanged vows, the best-day-of-your-life was completely and utterly exhausting – all the dancing and smiling and photos and pure unadulterated happiness left you stumbling to the hotel room Nat and you were going to share for a few days before you left for your honeymoon – scheduled for a rest Mexico where the sun promised to shine and your phones were to be turned off for the longest in either of your careers.

“You okay, babe?” she asks once you’re both in the elevator, watching you closely as you use her for balance while you take off your painful heels.

You groan in pain as your feet – now able to flatten and breathe and finally not stuck in stuffy plastic – hit the cold material of the floor fancy, dark marble flooring. “Define ‘okay,’ would you please?”

Natasha just snorts, holding you close as your eyes droop and your legs threaten to give out. “Oh, darling. We’re almost there, I promise.”

Natasha isn’t lying – you’re only forced to travel about five more floors and a short walk to get to your grand suite before you can collapse into the giant bed, something you had thought about all day with its obnoxiously high thread count sheets and mountain of beautiful, plush pillows.

Each of you had both been in there, in what now sounds like paradise, that morning. You both needed to drop off your luggage and whatever else you’d think you’d need for the Honeymoon (the visits were perfectly timed, though, so that you avoided seeing one another). Despite this, you yourself had no idea how long and treacherous the journey would be.

(In reality, was it fifty feet? Probably. But does that mean you’re not going to complain about it? Absolutely not.)

You nearly scream with relief when you step into the room, allowing yourself to slouch and burp and groan in pain.

Natasha puts the two bottles of champagne she’d taken from the reception on one of the end tables by the door, never letting go of your hand.

When she turns back to you she sees you, struggling uncomfortably in your dress as if you were one of the small children that attended the ceremony – stuffed into fancy clothes for hours as their parents mingled.

Natasha opted to wear a well-tailored suit, something you became incredibly jealous of about ten seconds after you were stuffed into the wedding dress.

“C’mere,” Natasha murmurs into your skin, hands rubbing into your shoulders. “Let me help you out of this thing.”

You don’t deny the help, moving your perfectly done hair to the side so she can access the complicated lace-up back that held your strapless dress to your body.

“You looked so beautiful tonight,” Natasha tells you, assassin hands making quick work of the expensive, intricately woven ribbon. “Like a goddess in a dream.”

If you had more energy you’d blush wildly, stutter through a “thank you” and do your best to compliment her back. Now, though, all you can seem to manage is a small smile and an equally tiny “thanks” as the dress falls to your feet, Natasha helping you step out of it – leaving you in the fancy lingerie that costs spent God knows how from some fancy designer you .

It’s pretty, a deep orange that compliments your skin exceptionally well – a pre-wedding gift from Carol.

“I know she likes,” she says with a wink, handing you the bag as you got your hair done that morning. You know she’s referring the numerous threesomes you and Natasha had had with her and it makes you bark out a laugh.

The hairdresser glares at you for messing up her flow, and you apologize meekly before giggling once more.

“Wow,” Nat mumbles, eyeing you up and down. “That looks fucking amazing on you.”

You smile, weak but genuine as you let out a small yawn. “Thanks, Carol of all people thought you would like it.”

Your wife barks out a loud laugh, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. “Oh, of course she did.”

Natasha gives you another once-over, another lingering glance, before she grabs your hand - leading you to the table where she had your make up mirror set up, along with your large collection of post-make up necessitates. Next to the several large make up bag’s worth of stuff is the fluffiest robe you’ve ever seen, and as you press your hand to it to pinch the cloth between your fingers, you can feel it had been warmed.

God, you love your wife so much – almost as much as you want to wrap yourself in that robe for the next one thousand years and never, ever take it off.  

“Now,” Natasha tells you, coming behind you to leave a kiss at the base of your neck. “Get comfortable while I run us a nice, hot bath so the both of us can properly destress from the day. Got it?”

You nod as you sit down, taking it all in as Natasha eases herself away.

“I love you so much!” you call out to her. “You’re the best wife ever!”

A beat passes before you hear a response. “I know!”

After pulling the robe on and nearly crying at how good it feels, you work on taking your thick make up off while Natasha does her thing in the bathroom – faint music playing from a Bluetooth speaker she had remembered to pack.

Natasha, your wife. The woman you’ve loved for years, the woman you’ve known was the one since you saw her at that fashion show Tony made her go to because Bruce (the one most susceptible to Tony’s extroverted nonsense) bowed at to deal with some “nuclear-fission” related stuff.

You were a model, another person stepping in for a friend when another friend had more important things to do. Natasha was taken with you when you first stepped out of the runway, insisting that she meet you backstage.

Luckily, Tony allowed to use her connection to him to get there, flashing the Stark Industries part of her invite in front of anyone who tried to step in her way. You were there, undoing the tight ponytail at a well-lit mirror while wearing sweatpants and a crop top and flip flops – a fantastical contrast to the deep maroon ballgown you were stuffed inside for the show.

She was awestruck, as were you, and while you both stared at each other, wordless, the designer you were doing a favor for had the good sense to step in and introduce you.

It was horrible awkward for you and Natasha, exchanging numbers and introducing yourself like dumbstruck preschoolers meeting new friends on the first day of school. Eventually you had to leave, torn from her gaze by another model insisting you get drinks.

Natasha was pulled in the other direction by Tony, who wanted to go clubbing like his life depending on it.

Needless to say, you were texting the entire night, next morning, and the day after…plus the week after that…

The rest, of course, is history.

You smile as you rub the last of your professionally applied eyeliner off, taking out your serums and creams to be used next.

You’re on a moisturizing thing for your under-eyes when Natasha calls for you.

“The bath is ready!” she yells, suddenly appearing in the doorway. You smile at her in your mirror before joining her in the-

“Holy shit, this bathroom is fucking huge!”

Natasha laughs, stripping you before she replies. “Well, we sure are paying enough for it.”

You snort. “Actually, Tony’s paying for it.”

Natasha rolls her eyes as she guides you to the tub, pushing your clothes aside with her foot. “Of course, how could I forget?”

Tony – a man who was likely more excited about the wedding than anything else – had insisted from day one that he should be the one to pay for the honeymoon and anything else one would call “expensive.”

Once you mumbled something about the container store being a possibility of where you would register, and after a rough draft list he bought everything you desired.

(How he got that list, you don’t know, since the only people you sent it to was Natasha and Wanda. In all honesty, you try not to think about it, as you had much more pertinent things to worry about when it came to your wedding.)

Natasha steadies you climb into the bath and you sink into the hot water with a deep moan, already beginning to rub into your sore muscles.

“Baby, don’t do that yet,” Natasha tuts, throwing another handful of bath salts into the large tub. Too tired to disagree, you watch her with hooded eyes while she undresses before pushing you forward to make room for her behind you. “Let me help you.”

Your head falls back to lean against her shoulder as she massages you with nimble, callous fingers.

“You’re really good at this,” you whisper, kissing what little skin you can reach.

She starts at your feet, easily working her way up your ankles, calves, knees, thighs.

Your breath hitches when she moves to your hips – but it calms when she brushes over them and moves to your shoulders.

“Better?” she asks as she works out knots the size of Thor from between your shoulder blades.

You nod, leaning back against her. “Yeah, much better.”

You can feel her smile turn a little wicked as she speaks. “Then this should be amazing.”

Before you can question her, both hands move to your chest, massaging your breasts – sore from the corset of the dress and the beautiful (but uncomfortable) lace lingerie.

It feels so good; a breath of fresh hair after being choked (both literally and metaphorically), stepping into the sun after weeks of rain, touching the skin of another after being kept alone for so long.

“God,” you whisper, leaning into her hands. “Fuck this is the best.”

You can feel Natasha smile into the skin of your shoulder. “Yeah? You like that?”

You giggle as you reply. “Very much so.”

Only then does she stop, moving to grab at the basket of nice-smelling objects you can’t identity until Natasha brings it in front of you, holding it above the water and close to your face. You can see bathe bombs and salts, essential oils, bubble bath.

“Pick one,” Natasha tells you, whispering.

You take one shaky hand from the water and dry it as best you can, grabbing a pale pink sphere that smells vaguely of peaches and a summer breeze.

Natasha nudges you and you drop it into the water, watching silently as it fizzled and dissolved into the hot water.

Behind you, you can hear her grabbing something else – popping what you think is a lid open and squirting its contents into her hands.

You suck in a breath, hoping her hands will go back to your chest, but to your dismay she simply goes back to your shoulders.

“You carry a lot of tense energy here,” she teases playfully. You can’t tell if she’s mocking you or the massage you two had gotten a few weeks back when Wanda noticed how much wedding planning had taken a toll on the both of you.

They were good, the massage therapists that she had hired were well trained and knew what they were doing, but one of them had this stereotypical voice and vocabulary and both you and Natasha had turned her into some sort of inside joke.

“Now,” she told Natasha as her elbow was inches-deep in the woman’s spine. “You carry a lot of stress around your spine, so you need to be mindful of that…”

Natasha nodded along, as did you, despite not a single clue what that meant. You both quoted when the other got stressed again, reminding the other person to relax that furrow in your brow just a little.

Regardless of intent, you giggle and let her work out the knots that have made homes along your shoulder blades and spine, your hands resting on her knees that rest near your sides in the hot water.

“What was the favorite part?” you ask, wanting to hear the voice of your wife instead of the sleep-inducing silence. You wanted to be awake, wanted to experience this with her.

You can somehow feel Natasha smiling softly. “Oh god, you were – obviously, but it was just so nice to see everyone there, everyone I love being there and celebrating with us…”

The feeling of her fingers digging into your muscles lulls you into a semi-unconscious state, listening to her stories from the best day of her and your life.

“I think Thor bringing that ale was only a good idea, because seeing Steve and Bucky drunk was…” she laughs, and if you could live in that melodic sound, you would. “It was fucking hilarious. Who knew Bucky was a giggley drunk and Steve was a horny one – I don’t think I’ve ever seen two men grind on each other so hard for so long in one night in my life!”

You let out a soft laugh with her, hoping she continues.

Luckily, she does.

“Your mom was horrified! But everyone else thought it was hysterical. Even your Dad was a little into it…”

You snort a little, as does she.

“It was also so good to see Pepper let go for a minute, too she’s been so busy with Stark Industries shit, and watching her dance with Morgan after that adorable little thing ‘caught’ that stupid thing at the bouquet throwing.

“And I hope you know everyone was crying with us when we finally said, ‘I do.’ Even your Dad, but Thor especially…I had no idea that man could so sob so loud…”

It all lulled together after that, white noise as you found yourself floating on air and caught in an indefinable cloud of contentless.

Natasha brings you back to reality, eventually, easily turning you around and leaving kisses along your eyes, nose, cheeks, then your lips.

“You good?” she asks, watching as your eyes flitter open.

You nod, voice weak. “Yeah, yeah. I’m…good.”

Natasha gets out first, drying off while keeping an eye on you in the tub. With your blurry vision from just waking up and the bright lights that line the large mirror behind her, she looks angelic, like she just fell straight from Heaven into your Honeymoon Suite.

As you watch her, you expect large, heavy wings to sprout from her back – eclipse the LED lights and burn your eyes, blinding you for all eternity.

But, if the last thing you ever saw your beautiful wife naked…you wouldn’t mind, all that much, never being able to see her again. This image, now, would be enough.

Luckily, though, you aren’t going blind, and you’re able to see as she pulls her hair into a loose bun before grabbing two large towels and previously discarded robe.

Natasha helps you out of the tub, making you stand as she dries off you off – paying special attention to your center and chest and ass.

“Stop teasing me,” you mumble as she works your way to your spine.

She just smirks. “My dear, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You just roll your eyes as she wraps up your hair and pulls you into the robe – silent as she carries you bridal style to the large bed where she leaves you, sitting, before going back to the bathroom.

You stay there, positioned with a towel around your body and wrapped in your hair, listening Natasha drain the tub, turn on the faucet, and do other things you don’t have the brain power to listen to.

She returns with your hairbrush and a glass of water, pulling you into her lap facing away from her.

You sip at the cool water as she undoes the towel in your hair, carefully undoing the tangles and leaving occasional light kisses across your exposed shoulders.

“Do you want your hair up or down, babe?” she asks, pulling a hair tie from the end of the brush.

You blush as you respond. “Could you, uh, do those braids I like?”

Natasha just smiles, grabbing a small, opaque, black matte box you hadn’t noticed before.

“Of course,” she says, opening it with a small click and pulling out a few bobby pins. “Of course, I can, my love. I’d do anything you asked of me.”

You sit there, patient as the youngest girl at a sleepover desperate for the acceptance of her older sister’s friends, as she makes two braids and wraps them around your head, letting small tendrils frame your face.

Natasha grabs a small compact from the spot bed where the box was, holding it in front of you to show off her precise work.

You sigh deeply, happily, tucking a bit behind your ear as you admire it. Your wife has beautiful, precise handiwork in all she does, in all she touches – especially when it comes to your hair.

Each morning you’ve had the privilege to wake up next to each other, Natasha had taken the time to do your hair – even if it meant propping you up in your sleep. It was a silent, artful way that she told you that she loved you, an easier way for her to express her feelings without having to voice them directly.

Seeing her to this now, while you’re awake, without the sleep in your eyes or the impending stress of the day…it all nearly brings you to tears.

You turn to face her, pulling her in for a deep kiss. “I love you so much,” you tell her, a few tears falling down your face – the taste of salt spreading on your tongue.

Natasha smiles, waiting to break away until your lungs scream for air and she gives you a moment to grant them the oxygen they desire.

(Sometimes you forget she’s learned how to hold her breath for a simply ridiculous amount of time – great for some things, bad for others).

Once you’re back to breathing like the normal ole civilian you are, Natasha pushes you back into place in her lap, the only thing separating you being the slightly-damp but still-quite-fluffy towel.

With your hair dealt with, though, Natasha makes the decision to pull it off.

You hiss slightly as your skin becomes exposed to the cool air of the spacious suite, pressing yourself further against Natasha’s steadfastly heated skin.

“Oh, baby,” Natasha coos. “Let me warm you up…”

For a minute you think she means she’ll put you in a sweatshirt, but as her hand trails between your breasts and down your stomach you – you understand what she means.

Her fingers spread your folds easily, other hand teasing at your sensitive inner thighs. You moan unabashedly and press your back more firmly against her chest, digging your heels into the bed for purchase as a single finger enters you.

“You’re so pretty when you’re like shit,” Natasha murmurs in your ear, leaving a kiss on the shell of it. You can feel her smile as you tighten momentarily around her fingers. “So beautiful when you let me have all this power over you.”

You swallow the thick lust in your throat, trying to clear path for a coherent answer.

It never comes.

“You looked so beautiful when you walked down the aisle,” Natasha says, pushing another finger inside of you while the hand at your thigh moves to your breasts, just like in the bath. “I didn’t know what to think – whether I should be the sobbing bride to-be or if I should pick you up and find the nearest bathroom and just take you there.”

She crooks her fingers just so, eliciting a deep, guttural moan from you.

“God, and then the reception,” she says into your throat, leaving bruising kisses there. “You looked so happy, and I was so happy, and-“

You grab onto the wrist of the hand that’s driving into you, keeping her close as her free hand palms harder at your tender breasts, groping at them as she continues.

“Then it hit me,” she tells you, bringing you closer and closer to your release as each second passes. “It’s you, you make me happy, my beautiful wife.”

A third is added, coaxing you to release.

“That’s right,” Natasha moans into your ear. “Come for me, my beautiful wife.”

And, God, you do – reaching your peak with a shout, your legs shaking and hands gripping whatever skin you can reach.

Natasha works you through it, fucking her fingers in and out of you in time with the bucking of your hips. Even as your legs shake and you throw yourself against her, she doesn’t let up until you beg for her to cease her actions.

“Are you sure, love?” Natasha coos into your ear. “Are you sure you don’t want me to your peak over and over and over again? You don’t want me to bring you pleasure until you can’t take it anymore?”

You scream something unintelligible – hoping the expensive wallpaper and rich fellow hotel goers can’t hear you as you babble, mind frying as the coil in your abdomen tightens again.

More less more less stop don’t stop please I want you I want everything Natasha I love you I love you Natasha I’ll do anything you want me to Natasha-

Your brain short-circuits as you come once more, vision going to nothing but bright white for what feels like eternity.

Eventually Natasha lets you go, allows you to slump against her as you pant and attempt to regain a foothold in reality.

“Good?” Natasha asks once your eyes have recovered their focus, glaze receding.

You sigh happily. “Very much so.”

“You tired?” she asks.

You shrug, letting out a light yawn. “A little.”

Natasha just laughs. “You too tired for more?”

You shake your head, beaming. “Never.”

She lays you gently onto the bed, and leaves a kiss to the side of your mouth before retrieving her (and your) favorite strap on, putting it on and adjusting it with ease.

It’s average-sized, glossy, and black, showing off Natasha’s expertise. You sigh happily when she comes into view, climbing on top of you with ease.

You’re pliant under her rough hands, allowing her to push your knees to your chest and bend you in half to give her easier access to your pussy, still soaked and desperate from before.

“So wet for me,” Natasha murmurs as she aligns herself with your center. “Always ready for me, aren’t you?”

Your nod is cut short when you slam your head against the pillow, skin on fire as she fucks in and out of you.

Wait, scratch that.

This isn’t fucking, there’s no way something this beautiful can be qualified as something as crude “fucking.” No, no – this is making love; you wife is making love to you.

The realization hits you like a train, wiping your lungs of their capacity and making your blood ring loudly in your ears. It’s enough to make you feel too far from her – from the woman currently on top of you. In a heartbeat it’s like she’s a million miles away and a few lightyears away, and no – that simply will not do.

You tangle your fingers in Natasha’s hair, messy bun long dissolved into a field of her beautiful red hair as you pull at her roots, making her moan as you wrap your legs around her waist to pull her impossibly closer to you. For a second you hope her skin becomes yours and vice versa, soldering you together like two pieces of a sculpture. Maybe then she’ll feel close enough, like she isn’t back in space and saving the world for the thousandth time.

“God, I’m gonna come,” you moan, “Fuck don’t stop! Please, God, don’t fucking stop!”

Natasha smiles as she watches your blissed-out face, reaching between you to rub at the most sensitive part of you, using your slick to rub sharp, tight circles there.

You come with her skin pressed harshly to yours, her murmuring sweet nothings into your hairline as your fingernails nearly draw blood.

Natasha doesn’t stop fucking the strap in and out of you, chasing her own high. She reaches her peak just as the waves of pleasure are subsiding – allowing you clear vision of her cursing out of her breath and screwing her eyes shut and her jaw tensing then going slack.

Just as she never ceases, you continue to fuck yourself on the toy as she grinds her clit into its base, soon making her twitch as it becomes too much for her.

After a minute she stills for just a moment, coming down from the last of her high as you pull her down for a heated, sloppy kiss.

Her lips taste like you and you moan as it hits your tongue, kissing anywhere you can reach as she pulls out of you – leaving you feeling empty.

You’re about to whine but she shushes you with another kiss, silencing you.

“Just a moment, love,” she whispers. “Wait just a moment.”

She hastily lays down next to you, pulling you on top of her effortlessly.

That’s when you begin to understand – being to instinctively grinding down onto her strap as her hands form a death grip on your hips.

“Fuck yeah,” she moans. “Grind down on me just like that.”

You align her with your center once more as you begin to ride her, one hand on the headboard and the other planted in the sheets next to her head.

One hand moves to your ass, digging her nails into the supple flesh while the other goes to your hip – guiding you forward and back.

She watches you closely, watches as your eyes roll back and head falls to the side; watches as your muscles tenses in your stomach and feels it in your back.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” she tells you. “Look so fucking beautiful on top of me, fucking yourself on my cock.”

The hand on your hip moves to brush lightly against your clit, making you nearly scream once more from how oversensitive you are.

“F-fuck, Nat!” You’re almost there, so fucking close, all you need is a little more-

“Stop,” Natasha commands.

Regretfully, caught under the spell that is Natasha fucking Romanoff, you do. You still and you stay there – inert  as you wait for whatever it is she wants you to do that requires you to resist every carnal impulse that’s telling you to keep going don’t stop please don’t stop it feels so good I never want to stop please don’t stop!

Silently, she readjusts, keeping you close to her as she moves, smirking as you gasp when she not-so-subtly “accidentally” bucks her hips.

She pulls you with her as she leans against the lush pillows, folding her hands behind her head as she makes herself comfortable.

You’re confused, almost mad, not understanding what’s going on until Natasha tsks. “Come one, babygirl. Give me a show, won’t you? Don’t you want to give me something good to watch?”

You nod furiously and gulp, suddenly feeling very small and needy as you plant your hands on her sternum, using her for balance once more as you fuck your hips down onto her strap.

You’re still close, so close, and carefully you remove one hand to rub at your clit, desperate to find your high once again as your eyes flit between watching the toy slide in and out of you and watching her intently – determined to commit this moment to memory.

It drives you, nearly makes you choke as your lungs and heart and stomach contract and constrict and your muscles scream for air as they throw you off the proverbial cliff, throwing your head back and clawing at Natasha’s skin once more as you’re lost in an ocean of fire, of electricity that jumps across your skin as you fall to the deep sea below, tumbling and dropping into a vat of the best fucking thing you’ve ever felt into your entire life.

You shake, oh do you shake and bare your teeth and arch your back and think is this what Heaven feels like? Is this what angels all become harpists for? If you fell at the hands of the instrument, could you feel the same way forever?

You scream louder than a banshee as you come, falling on top of Natasha as you do so, panting and sweaty as Natasha leaves kisses wherever she can.

Eventually you roll to the side, allowing her to remove the toy and toss it in the open drawer of the side table to be cleaned and used later as you reach for a $7 bottle of water that had been strategically placed by housekeeping.

You cap it once you’ve downed half of it, placed it back gingerly as Natasha speaks once more.

“Another round, wife?” she asks, smiling ear to ear.

You give her a small laugh before turning over to curl up into her chest, thumbing at your new ring as you speak. You and Natasha had elected not to get engagement rings, and you knew this small act would become a newfound habit of yours.  “Maybe after some rest.”

She smiles, kissing the top of your head as a large menu across the room catches her eye. “And some room service?”

You look up, grinning wickedly. “How about a lot of room service?”

Natasha laughs as she imagines Tony’s face when he gets the bill from the hotel, sighing and rubbing his face and asking one of his robots to make him a drink.

“Oh yeah, a lot of room service.”

[ofieugogyshz]

*chucks a fic at you guys*

have this before I change my mind. based off , yknow, my very good day with shopping and thinking about my husband and his reaction to all of this.

i'll make it look nicer later. you're lucky i even tried to adjust for lack of right text align.

word count 3300

-------------

Laverre City, Kalos

1:46PM, ??/??/2014

>I can't believe they have peasant tops

> [attachments.jpg]

Attached to the text message that was sent were several images of different blouses from a shop. A variety of color and styles, including the coveted peasant-style, with its long, flowing, and loose, off-the-shoulder sleeves. There were pictures of other dresses, tops, and skirts that the sender had gotten excited over, and hastily sent to their husband.

That's great! <

I'm glad you found clothes that you like. <

>It isn't just about finding the stuff I like!

>I could go into any shop and do that, if I wanted to torture myself

> >:T

A huffed sigh escaped their lips as they browsed the store. They were lucky that the kind designer whose clothes stocked the store was incredibly fat-friendly in design, and that they didn't have to look far to find something they enjoyed. Their thumb hovered over their phone's keyboard, wanting to send more, but nothing came to mind. Besides, if they did that, then they wouldn't be able to find anything; as they'd want nothing more than to share this experience with their husband.

They turned the phone's screen off and slid it into their pocket.

While the shop lauded itself as a plus-size friendly store, the young adult was still burnt from many places considering up to a size 1XL the largest they supported, if that. And places that were genuinely for fat people like them, they were hardly price-friendly. Money wasn't an issue for them anymore, like it had been when they were a kid, even as a young trainer-- but a hundred dollars on one piece of clothing wasn't how they got to keep that financial stability. They scanned the store, trying to figure out where to start.

Right, clearance section.

Their eyes quickly roved through the racks, looking for the appropriate sizes and any styles that stood out. On their phone, they had a size conversion chart to help them. There were a few items, and their eyes happened to glance at the original price, out of curiosity.

$30. Crossed out to $15. Not bad for a top, they supposed.

Their eyes glanced at a dress they had passed over, not particularly drawn to its style but used to the disappointing price dresses could run for in plus-sized stores. $40, before its clearance price of $20. They looked at the price tags on other garments at random, noting how much cheaper everything was compared to the fat-friendly stores in Unova. Was this something they had never noticed about Kalosian fashion prices, or was it this store in particular? Well, no matter. They'll just have to allow themselves to broaden their search. Just a bit.

They allowed themselves to search the racks where those darling tops from before were, with their light and flowy sleeves that billowed in the wind. Grabbing a handful in designs or colors that looked even remotely endearing, they headed to the changing room. Their Pikachu followed behind them.

After trying on a few tops, they looked at their reflection in the mirror, turning back and forth as they tried to see how it looked on them.

“Hrrmm.... What do you think, Pika?”

Their Pikachu gave them a thumbs up.

“Pfft, that's what you said about the last few.” There were a few tops that, once they had put them on, either were just shy of fitting properly (which meant that there may exist the next size up, giving them hope for a perfect fit), or their design actually didn't look that great once they looked at what they had grabbed.

Still... it felt nice being able to find tops that fit, for once. Tops that they liked.

They grabbed their phone and snapped a picture, before shedding it in favor of another color of the same cut, with a slightly different pattern. It was essentially the same top, but the difference in color had made them like it better. And knowing that the previous one fit, they eagerly put it on, excited to see how much better this one looked than the other.

They looked at the top in the mirror, not noticing their own smile.

“Oooh, I think I like this one much better, Pika!”

“Pikachu!”

“Well, it'd be nice to have input from some other humans; you're just agreeing with whatever you see!”

Their Pikachu frowned, stamping its foot on the ground and looking away. They giggled.

“You're still a very valuable member of the peanut gallery, Pika.”

Pika's ear twitched, and she kept her head turned from her trainer. Taking another look at the way the top fit, the trainer took a photo, and began to take the top off again. They paused, pondering about something, before sending out a few texts.

One was to a group chat. They showed a picture of the store, the tops they had grabbed, and the one they had put on before the most recent one.

>I'm not really attached to this one.

>[attachment]

>but this one... I like it so much better!! The color's

>much more pink, and the other one was too... mauve?

>for my liking.

They sent out the same group of pictures to a few other friends. Messages included things like the following:

>Look at this store I found!

>We should come here sometime!

>Wish you were here to help me

>You know I'm bad at fashion LOL

They hadn't noticed the curve of their lips, and how their face seemed to liven up after the last set of weeks, depressed and too lethargic to really care about their Pokemon journey. If it weren't for the loads of shops all across Kalos, especially in Gym Cities, they might have languished somewhere, unable to motivate themselves with something to look forward to. And the past week had been particularly exhausting for them. They had no idea why it felt more exhausting than any other week, but it had been, and they almost hadn't gone out to this store. If they hadn't heard some other fat people in the Pokemon Center talk about their clothing they got from here, they might not have left at all.

Their message notification went off, and they looked to see who had responded.

How's the shopping going? <

Their face warmed up. It was a text from their husband. They buried their face in the top, before peeking out an eye at the message.

Of all the things... they thought, before shaking their head and managing to keep half their face uncovered long enough to write a reply.

> Good, I think. I found a top I really like!

>[attachment.jpg]

The top was sleeveless, with straps that started out thick until they reach the shoulder, where they thinned out to spaghetti straps. The overall image was an off-white, tinged pink, with pink and red flowers on it in a very pretty, flattering design for their shape. Occasionally there was a yellow flower or two for a contrast in one bundle of the flowers. The top had a fake decorative necklace hooked to the inside of the front straps, adding additional flair that they wouldn't've been able to come up with on their own. If it were the first thing they had tried on that day, maybe they would have been slouching. But it was the fourth or fifth, and their confidence had miraculously grown despite the previous misfits. There was almost an attempt at confidence in the way they held themselves for their own photo.

It looks cute on you. :) <

When they saw the message back, their face heated up and they buried it into the top, trying not to let out a squeal from flustery embarrassment. Their Pikachu turned back to look at them, tilting her head as she watched. They put their phone down on the little seat in the changing room, trying to will themselves back together long enough to at least send a reply of some sort. But whenever their eyes roved back over his reply to them, they felt their heartbeat quicken, thudding loudly in their chest and they had to look away, burying their face once more.

They let out a groan of defeat.

“Pi?”

Their Pikachu tapped them on the leg. They shook their head, not able to let their face be seen to even this tiny changing room, with only them, their Pikachu, and a mirror inside to witness it.

“I'm fine,” they mumbled.

“Pikachu.”

They pulled the top away from their face quickly. “I mean it!”

“Pika.”

“I don't need your sass, young lady.”

“Pika pika. Pikachu?”

“You know what, I'm not having this conversation with you. You're mean.”

“Pi?”

Letting out a loud sigh, the young adult turned their attention back to their phone. Their cheeks were warming up again, but they allowed themselves that much, taking care not to let their eyes linger too much on their husband's words.

> Th-thanks ><

> I, uh, think it looks good too.

> I might get it.

They quickly clicked their phone screen off and put the top back on the hanger, separating it from the ones they weren't gonna keep. They turned their attention to the next top. It was a much lighter material, and far closer to a peasant top. Although, as they started to put it on, they found themselves confused by its design, as the back was shorter cut than the front by a significant amount. The fabric in the back was also a slit, with the two sides overlapping along the back. It took them a moment to figure out how to put on the unique design, but when they did, they instantly fell in love with the top they saw in the mirror.

It was entirely off the shoulder, with no straps to hold it up. Elastic ran along the top hem, allowing it to rest along their arm and atop their chest. As they started to adjust the top on themselves, they saw how long the sleeves opening was, allowing them to swish the fabric back and forth in the air, like a watery dance. Which, of course, only served to make their smile wider.

They quickly started a new text

> Okay, this one's a bit weird in the back, but omg I love the sleeves!!!

>Look how long they are!!!

It's very pretty. <

Are you going to get it? <

>I think I have to.

>You can't just fall in love with something and then not get it.

> Well. Maybe if the price is too much...

Is it?<

> One sec.

> NOPE!!

> err. A good nope. It's definitely going with me.

They had to hold back another scream, lips tight as they couldn't hide from the compliment he gave them. Their face heated back up, and they tried not to throw their phone at the soft pile of clothes.

I'm glad.<

You look so nice in it that it would be a shame <

if you didn't get it. :) <

“You're not being fair!!!” they said, trying hard not to scream. Any other person in the dressing rooms might have overheard it as a pleading whine. This was only further accentuated by yet another half-hearted whine, unsure of how they even felt about it.

The compliments were nice, and so were the tops. And even without his praise, the tops themselves were doing a wonderful job of making them feel as good as he seemed to think they looked. Which they tried not to linger on too long, afraid to ruin the good feeling, but also feeling too put-off by themselves to accept the compliments or self-confidence.

“Is everything okay in there?” came the voice of a store clerk.

“A-ah, yes, sorry. Just yelling at my phone.”

“Uh...huh... Okay then. Let us know if you need anything.”

“Will do!”

They paused a moment, waiting to hear the clerk pass before burying their face in their hands. This was so, so utterly unfair.

> You can't keep doing that!!!

Doing what? <

They clenched their jaw, trying to think of how to say it in a way that wouldn't be insulting to their husband.

> Compliment me like that!

Am I not allowed to compliment my wife? <

They felt his frown through that message and dug their feet in, preparing for the worst.

>Not like that!

>I mean

>Not quite like that?

>It's not fair 'cuz you're not here!

>...

>wait that made it sound more romantic

>and less whiny than I was intending.

Oh, how they could imagine him shaking his head with a good-hearted chuckle at their attempts to recover from their stumble. Not even they knew exactly how they meant it, but with him not being there in person, it somehow made it unfair. Just, absolutely unfair that he should cause these reactions in them, without being there in person. They were married, too! They had been together for years! Shouldn't these things have stopped by now?!?

You've lost me, dear. <

They let out a defeated sigh.

>It's not fair 'cuz you're not here

That's a very sweet thought of you <

but I'm not sure I understand how that <

means whatever you want it to mean <

>Because!

Because? <

>Because you're...

? <

What about me? <

>You're not here!!

> A-and...

And...? <

> <__<

> I'm not gonna say!

> You're just gonna have to go without knowing!

They were certain he would have laughed at that.

Well then. <

I suppose that I'll have to find out <

when I go out there to visit you next. <

Urk. They forgot about that. Well, whatever. He wasn't going to find out now and see what happens, so that was his loss. Not theirs. ...Though, the thought did make them feel a bit lonely, once they realized it.

> I miss you.

I miss you, too. <

Do you want me to see if I can get <

out there sooner? <

> *shakes head*

> no, I'll be fine.

> 'sides, don't they say that distance

> makes the heart grow fonder?

> or some crap like that.

“Some crap like that?” <

> Y-you know what I mean!

Fine. <

I won't tease you any more. <

> W-well, let's not say ANY more

Their fingers ran along the edges of their phone case as they waited for a response. They let out a sigh. They knew that they hadn't upset him, but it still was nice seeing some kind of confirmation, since they couldn't see him right now.

> I love you.

I love you, too. <

You have no idea how much. <

> !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

> Lance, please.... I am but a humble person...

> You will have your wife dead of heatstroke

> if you keep this up.

Well, we wouldn't want that, now would we? <

> It's not like I'm trying to get out of this

> marriage any sooner.

You were trying to get out? :-( <

>I AM NOW.

>BYE.

Lips pursed as they pouted at his use of the archaic smiley face. With a deep breath, they put the phone down and changed into their next outfit. It was a very long, simple dress, with three colors: white on the top, a peachy-pink solid stripe across their legs, and a sky blue as the ending color. But the dress had a unique weight to it that felt calming for them, making it easier to wind down from the violent reaction any nose emojis incited in them. They adjusted the straps, which were strips of fabric braided like cord. They smoothed the dress down, and in the process felt their fingers slip into something in the skirt of the dress.

A hole? They thought at first. But the fabric was solid all the way through, and they immediately checked the other side for a paralleled match, excitedly shoving both of their hands into each slot.

“Pockets! This dress has pockets, Pika!!”

The Pikachu looked up at her trainer, not understanding the significance, but excited for her all the same. She gave a cheerful response, tail wagging.

They picked up their phone and took another picture, sending it to the same people as before, including the group chat, excitedly exclaiming,

>IT HAS POCKETS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The dress was pricier, about $45, which was a bit of frustration. But they remembered the stores in Unova, and what they would have charged for a dress of similar style. $90. $95. Yeah, no. And it had been so long since they had bought anything full price, but if this boutique was part of a certain chain, they might be able to get a discount with its membership card.

They almost sent a new text to their husband, in their hasty excitement, but decided against it. As much as they were loving his feedback, they could feel their energy draining away from the excitement. If they weren't careful, they would have crashed before they could pick anything to buy...

For the first time in their adult life, they were running into the issue of actually having to choose when it came to clothes. From the bundles they brought into the dressing room, they were actually finding themselves needing to be more selective about clothes, and not needing to settle. So many things felt nice, and looked pretty, and fit. So many things checked all of those boxes at once, instead of having to settle for the more plain and disappointing “it fits” box. And, for the first time they could ever remember, they were feeling good about themselves during a shopping trip. By now, their spirit would have been broken by poor selection alone. Instead, their mood had vastly improved.

I'm glad I came.

The thought hadn't fully formed in their head yet, but it was slowly forming in their subconscious, waiting for the moment that the covers would be pulled back and expose the strange, unusual feeling of good vibes that they hadn't experienced in awhile. But they were cautious about exposing it, of digging too deeply into why that might be. So they kept it to themselves, quietly enjoying the vibe while it would last. Hopefully, with the right clothes, it might last them all the way to the League.

At the thought of that, they remembered their husband once more, and sent him a text as they were being rung up.

> Okay, I think I'm done.

You were shopping that entire time? <

You must have found a lot of things. <

> Yep!!!

> I actually had to CHOOSE this time <3333

> Do you know the last time I had to choose

> between things that all fit?

I do not. <

> I don't either!

> I'm so excited!!!

Are you going to send me more pictures <

of what you bought? <

> Yeah, I will when I'm done.

> I got a lot, so I'll send you a picture

> when I get back to the Center

“Ah--!” They quickly paused, unsure how to ask, but blundered ahead. “Is it possible that I can wear that one out?”

The cashier looked at the clothing they were pointing at.

“This one?” he said, holding up a long, multi-colored dyed dress with yellow and pinks, grey colors interspersed amongst its patterns to make the bright colors pop more. “Sure. Let me take the security tag off, and we can get you in that dress once we're done ringing you up.”

>[attachment.jpg]

> I'm wearing this one out! <33333

They were wearing the yellow dress, which draped across them lightly. The skirt of the dress billowed when a sudden wind came through in the picture. Their long, brown hair had been clipped back, looking like a messy bun from the front. Baby hairs were loose across their forehead, the breeze gently whipping them across their forehead. Their Pikachu was on their shoulder, clinging close to them; the gesture had made them laugh. Their entire expression had such a soft look on it, that it was hard to believe this was the same person who struggled to get up that morning.

It was perhaps the most joyful they had looked in such a long time.

You look beautiful. <

[sewfastdyeyoung]

hi! um so I am currently looking for sewing-related media (websites, patterns, tutorials, etc.) but all the media i see are clothes that look like they belong in urban outfitters (which isn’t my cup of tea) does anyone know where I can find media with styles like alternative??

This is my third time trying to figure out how to best answer this question...Off the top of my head I don’t have any specifics. Many people who tried to start YouTube channels for that sort of stuff seem to have abandoned them years ago, some of the website that I used to know of no longer exist. 

This is actually something that has really been on my mind and is frustrating about the sewing world. Despite the fact that sewing is a skill that anyone can learn and can be used to express any type of style, I feel like the landscape of the sewing media I see is homogeneous. I recently when to the bookstore and wanted to find a couple books to review for my YouTube channel. First the sewing section has become tiny. Second, half of that was either sewing crafts or basics of sewing. Third, it was pretty much all written by middle aged middle class white people for middle aged middle class white people... The most adventurous style of book was one of Gertie's pinup dress books. There is a huge dearth of diversity in sewing books, in BIPOC representation, in age representation, and in style representation... Like I look at half the books and I'm like why would I want to wear any of this boring suburban mom, office work wear... So if anyone know books please reblog this and add to it because I am looking for more options too.

I have tried to make sure that I am reblogging a variety of styles and creators because I really wanted with blog to be inclusive of creators of marginalized groups. Whether it is BIPOC, LGBTQIA+, subcultures, or even just a variety of fiber arts I want to share a bit of everything because its all awesome. I hope to continue to do that and I will be going back through my blog over the next couple of days to re-reblog some creators you might find interesting. 

I have some dreams personally of writing some sewing books. One that is more updated for plus size bodies that isn't all oversized clothing and actually celebrates not only plus sized bodies, but alternative styles of fashion. I also have dreamed of making a beginners guide to making you own gothic wardrobe staples at home. Maybe if I can continue to grow my little community and start working on those I can make something of those ideas happen.

[cecilspeaks]

176 - The Autumn Specter

Lips are the toes of the face. Welcome to Night Vale.

[spooky theme song]

It’s Halloween again, Night Vale, my favorite day of the year. As a kid, my mother used to dress my sister Abby and I in homemade costumes and take us door to door, vaguely threatening our neighbors until they gave us candy. When I was a teenager, I got a little old for trick-or-treating, so I started going to haunted houses with my friends. A lot of those haunted houses were kind of predictable with all their chain saw killers and Victorian ghost children singing nursery rhymes, who would follow you home and sing by your bed for months afterwards, but they always got to me. I loved the emotional rush of being scared. I still do. Of course, I don’t go out much to haunted houses, but I still love good old fashioned scary stories. I thought today would be a great day to share some of my favorites with you. I had my new intern, James, put together a few spooky tales that are perfect for putting you into Halloween mood.

But first, let’s have a look at the Community Calendar. This Saturday night at the New Old Night Vale Opera House, is the annual costume gala. This event is the Opera House’s largest fundraiser and one of the most prestigious costume contests in the region. A panel of judges will be on hand to determine the best costume at the ball. Last year’s winners were Joel Eisenberg and his partner Danny Jimenez, who dressed in a tandem outfit of a stegosaurus. I was there, listeners, and it was impressive! The creature was so realistic-looking. The craftsmanship of the costume was top notch, but listen, I have to confess I’m always more into high concept creativity rather than realistic details when it comes to costumes. Like I remember the 2015 gala, when Amal Shamun came dressed up as the concept of ennui. She made herself 12 feet tall, dressed in a taupe long coat, and created a constant drizzling rain inside the ball room. Anyone who looked at her got super sad and wanted a hug. But Joel and Danny’s stegosaurus was fine.

Sunday afternoon is the fall craft sale in Old Town Night Vale. An inscrutable maze of stalls showcasing the finest products from our town’s artisans. There will be cultural events for children, like finger painting classes, puppet shows, and a visit from the Autumn Specter. The Autumn Specter returns. It comes to collect its crops, with its great and sharp sickle. [creepily] It will harvest every ripe soul in Night Vale, the Autumn Specter is hungryyyy! It is Octoberr and it is timme to feeeeeee-duh.

Hey James, this Community Calendar doesn’t seem right, it’s just a bunch of stuff about the Autumn Specter. Also this font size, what-what is this 32 point? That’s just much too large. And it’s printed in red ink and that is a waste of our color toner, James. Eww, eww! This red ink is still really damp. OK, plus there’s nothing about start and end times of the craft fair, or anything about the food trucks, like if the Autumn Specter is hungry, surely it wants some falafel or Korean barbeque or tacos. James, could you just redo this story? James? James? [clears throat] Well, listeners, I don’t know where James went. Um, I can hear him breathing, but I don’t see him anywhere. Yeah, it’s fine, let’s just get onto our first spooky story.

[static, old-fashioned music] One quiet moonless night, not long ago and not so far away, a teenage girl sat in a house that was not her own. It was the home of Tony and Sheila McDowell. The girl was their babysitter, and she had just put the two young McDowell children down to sleep. The girl watched TV alone in the dark living room, only the bluish flicker of a scary movie illuminating her face. The phone rang abrupt and loud, startling her. She raised the receiver to her ear. “Hello?” she said with a slight quiver. “Have you checked on the children?” came a raspy voice. The babysitter ran quickly upstairs, opening the door of the kids’ bedroom. She flicked on the light, and there they were, fast asleep. She went back to her movie, but the phone rang again. “Haave youuu checked on the childrennn?” came the same voice, only more sinister. The babysitter again hurried upstairs, opened the door, turned on the light, and saw the children still asleep. The caller called again and again and again. “Have you checked on the children?” The babysitter, so scared, barely able to move, hung up the phone before the voice could finish its repeated query. When the phone rang once again, she answered and shouted: “Stop calling me!” But this time, it was a different voice. The person on this occasion said: “Ma’am, this is the police. We’ve traced the call. The call is coming from inside the house. Get out, get out!” The babysitter panicked and started to run, but then she remembered: she never called the police! How would they know to even trace the call? So she crept fearfully upstairs to the children’s room, and the phone was ringing again, the clamoring bell igniting her fright. And she cracked open the door and she saw- She saw the young McDowell boy and his little brother hunched over a phone and giggling! They were pranking her, and she felt relieved but embarrassed. And she told them to stop fooling around and go to sleep. And they all shared a good laugh.

Let’s have a look now at traffic. [papers rustling] Um.. OK, well I don’t seem to have a traffic report from intern James. Also James isn’t here right now, because I sent him out to go pick up lunch a few m- Oh, hey James, James, James, James – wait, why are you standing in the control booth? You were supposed to go get lunch and also I’ve asked you a couple of times not to wear that burlap bag over your head. I mean yes it looks great, with the Jack o’ Lantern face drawn onto it, I mean the mouth is a bit lopsided and the eyes are a tad uneven,  you know kinda flat and emotionless, but all in all it’s a cool look, but it’s decidedly not allowed in Station Management’s dress code. Oh, you’re holing a knife, too! So did you get- did you already get that lunch then? Well if that- if that’s the case, you don’t need to cut my sandwich in half, I’ll-I’ll take it whole. And also I need that traffic report, thanks. James? What are you waiting for, the Autumn Specter to do it for you? [chuckles] Hop to it! James?

[clears throat] Well, while James is working on that, let’s get back to my favorite spooky Halloween stories. This one isn’t a story so much as a fun Halloween game. The legend of Bloody Mary.

According to the lore, if you turn off all the lights, and stare into a mirror, repeating “Bloody Mary” three times in a row, she will appear and tear your face off! I’ve never tried this because I don’t own any mirrors, but my husband Carlos conducted this very experiment in his science lab. He said he darkened the room and repeated the name and nothing happened for a long time. But then a figure of a woman appeared, silvery gray and shimmering, and she approached Carlos slowly, her hollow white eyes never blinking. She brought her face only inches from Carlos and said: “Are you for real?” And Carlos said yes, he was indeed – real. And Bloody Mary said: “OK because this time of year, I just get a bunch of giggling, screaming teenagers, and I’m really tired of ripping off their faces for no pay whatsoever!” And Carlos gave her some resources for starting a union and she thanked him and she offered to tear his face off in exchange for the consulting, but Carlos said no, he liked his face, and wisher her luck. Night Vale, pay your malevolent spirits! They’re overworked especially around Halloween. And a 20 per cent gratuity for poltergeists, phantasms, revenants, and ghosts is standard.

And now for t- what the, oh you- [papers rustling] Wait, OK. You know, I thought intern James had handed the traffic report to me, but this is just a piece of parchment with a 9-pointed star seemingly drawn by a finger dripped in blood. And then there are a series of ancient runes scrawled around the outer edges. Now I took runic in college. I mean, most of my friends took Spanish as their language, but I thought living here in the American Southwest, it would be more useful to study ancient Scandinavian and Germanic alphabets. And from what I can make out, these are a message about the return of the Autumn Specter. Ugh, alright. OK. I love that intern James loooves Halloween and whatever this the Autumn Specter is. In fact, James is still in the break room right now construction a sacred totem out of ash tree branches and twine. He’s been muttering to himself all day in a language that I don’t recognize, and the only words I can understand are “Autumn Specter”. But I still have neither my traffic report nor my lunch! Wait, do you think James is… Naah, put it out or you mind, Cecil.

Let’s tell another spooky Halloween story. There once was a beautiful young woman who wore a green ribbon around her neck. She won the affection of a handsome young man. They fell in love and one day the boy asked the girl why she always wore a green ribbon around her neck. She would not tell him. One day the man and the woman were to become husband and wife. In her white bridal dress, the woman still wore her green ribbon. The man asked her on their wedding night if he could untie the green ribbon, but even on the  most intimate of evenings, she said no, and he respected her answer. But he longed to know what she was hiding behind the ribbon. Through the years, the man asked the wife again about the ribbon, but she never removed it, nor answered his questions about it. She only warned him that he would not like what he saw if she were to remove it. He asked less and less, but his curiosity grew and grew. And they became old, very old, and they knew their time left was short. The man asked one more time: “My dearest wife, love of my life, tell me that I may remove the green ribbon from around your neck.” And the old woman said: “My adoring groom, here in our room after all these many years, yes you may. But I caution you, as I have many times before, that you shall not like what your eyes behold.” The man hesitated, but finally reached his weakened, wrinkled fingers to the green bow along her nape. And he tentatively pulled the ribbon, and suddenly it unfurled, falling from her neck, and the man gasped. Upon her neck was a series of ornate letters spelling out “GOTH LIFE”. The woman said: “I got this tattoo in high school but kind of outgrew it and it’s super embarrassing.” And the man replied: “It is for sure weird, but also pretty cool. I like it.” And she never wore the green ribbon again.

You know, listeners, I’d love to bring you that traffic report, but right now, um, I’m facing something much more urgent and more dire. My studio door has opened on its own, and as I turned around, I could see down the long faintly lit corridor of our offices. And at the end of the hallway stands a figure, and he wears a Jack o’ Lantern mask, his head crooked to one side like a dog asking a question or like a hanged man, or both. And it is intern James, and he holds a long knife and he walks, he walks slowly toward me. And he is speaking at first in a mutter, but now louder, a strange shout in an obscure tongue like a magician casting a wicked spell, and he is moving much faster toward me, like a limping run, and his blade is raised high, and James is not an intern, Night Vale, bu the Autumn Specter itself come to reap my soul!

But before he does that, Let me take you to the weather.

[“Welterweight” by Nels Andrews. https://nelsandrews.bandcamp.com/]

So. During the weather, I went to human resources and requested a file on intern James. Oh I’m fine, by the way, and James is not the Autumn Specter, but I’ll get to that. So I found a copy of James’ résumé and cover letter for the position of radio station intern. His application was originally submitted in 1845. “That’s almost two centuries ago!” I exclaimed, but according to HR, they’re pretty backlogged on the intern apps. “What are you gonna do, we get to them when we get to them,” they said from the bottom of their abandoned well. Paperclipped to James’ application was a wrinkled and yellowed news clipping from the Night Vale °Daily Journal, and the article says that James died on Halloween night in 1849 when he was hit by a train. I then went to the hall of public records and found that our radio station was built in 1950, atop the very train tracks where James met hi send. James’ soul has been wandering the halls and offices of our radio station ever since. For all James ever wanted was to be a radio intern. To serve the listening community, to lift high the voice of journalistic truth. And it was his death that led to the shutdown of those train tracks and the eventual construction of a new station home, and the building we still use now. So I was wrong about James. He was an intern, after all, and not a malevolent Halloween spirit.

But I was right that the Autumn Specter had come for me. For when I turned to see James running down the hill, I did not notice the Autumn Specter behind me, with its bony hands and scarecrow mouth, and I did not notice its soul reaping sickle, which it had raised high above its oversized head and stick thin body. And James had given his life for the building of our radio station, and in death, gave his soul for the very same cause. And James threw himself upon the Autumn Specter, and he tried to stab the Specter’s neck and chest, but it-it- it did nothing. And the Spectre pushed James aside and then turned its black coal eyes upon me. And it raised its curved blade once again and swung! I tried to duck, but was too slow. And just as the sickle’s edge reached my face, James dove in front of it and vanished in a burst of white flame, as he was struck. And the room was empty and the Autumn Specter was gone too.

To the family and friends of intern James, he was… an OK intern. Not always on  top of his writing deadlines, but he literally sacrificed his soul for our radio station. I can’t bring you a traffic report today, but I will live to bring you one tomorrow.  If we find a new intern. And HR tells me that we have hundreds of candidates, although  most of them are not yet aware that they are candidates.

Stay tuned next for our new cooking competition show, “Flay Bobby Flay”.

And as always, Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: The road to hell is paved with cobblestone. It’s super bumpy, not at all comfortable, and really bad for your car’s suspension.

[shark-feeder-archive-dont-follow]

I think the hardest part for me now is trying to adjust to becoming seen and known as a fat guy by more than just my partner. It's one thing to be fat but still able to mostly hide it under clothes, but if I gain as much as I want to I won't be able to do that anymore, and its really stressful and scary trying to make that jump. Pre-T me was always that awkward size where I was too small for plus size fashion but too big for regular stores and I always wished I could shop at the plus size stores bc the dresses were so pretty, but now that I wear men's clothing plus size stores are suuuuper Hetero(tm) and boring and it sucks not being able to find nice clothes easily! It makes it so much harder to feel good about myself now that I can't just throw on a sexy outfit to make myself feel better :( I'm almost too big to shop at places like H&M now and I'm sort of debating if I should just keep shopping there even if things start to be a bit more figure hugging bc I'm so desperate for nice clothes that make me feel good. It's just so hard to unlearn the fear of being seen as fat publicly, let alone to intentionally wear something that doesn't hide my body or who I am (it almost makes me wish i had a humiliation kink just so I'd be more ok with it 😩). Transitioning gender-wise seems way more straightforward than trying to transition from being a little bit above average weight to obese or morbidly obese (I'm technically obese already but I'm just shy of 6ft so I only look kinda overweight 😣) I wish there was like, a list of steps on how to do it and what to expect like there is for starting HRT and all the social transitioning, y'know? -🍓

oh i feel you with men’s clothing being boring af, like tbh even men’s straight size clothing is So Boring and then being like an XL or bigger makes it that much harder to find anything fruity that isn’t hella expensive. im also a trans guy and like i found it easier mentally to be okay with being a chubby guy rather than being a chubby girl bc there is less social pressure there. like obvi its difficult to be fat in society regardless of gender but for me accepting myself as a chubby guy was easier than accepting myself as a chubby girl. i think a big part of accepting yourself as fat is unlearning the social stigmas and understanding that being fat is perfectly okay and that other people’s opinions don’t matter as long as youre happy with yourself. but also that is way easier said than done! 

i found this http://www.thegoodandplenty.com/2017/09/06/how-to-love-yourself-for-real-when-youre-fat/ and it seems like a good place to start with learning to be okay with stuff and idk if its exactly what youre looking for but hope it helps! also feel free to dm me and we can talk more about this stuff bc we have a lot in common lmfao and i respond faster to dms!