#buy winter wear sweatshirt

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

At the start of your friendship, Logan noticed how you prefer bigger, bagger clothes. It started with you wearing oversized shirts, and then the fall came, and you'd be in way too big sweatshirts. When the winter came and you only ever wore oversized sweaters and your winter coat was 4 sizes too big he took note that if he ever had to buy you clothes to just buy the biggest he could find so he started doing that and every time he did you were over the moon. "This is so comfortable!!!" You'd squeal and give him a hug after trying it on.

When the two of you get together, Logan is quick to realize two things. You love his leather jacket, and he loves you in it. It's not uncommon for you to "steal" it from him, and each time he catches you in it, a small smile graces his face.

As your relationship continued, it strengthened as well. Anyone who knew Logan knew he wasn't the marriage type, but that changed with you. Your 3rd anniversary was coming up, and after a drunken conversation with Wade, Logan finally came to the realization that he wanted you forever. It was hard to hide what he was doing from you, but he managed to sneak away to a jewelry store. As he left the house, he threw on his jacket and checked to make sure he had his wallet and keys, then he was out the door.

It took 2 weeks of sneaking out and going to different jewelers but he finally found the ring, he found your ring. He will never admit it but tears did form when he found it sitting in the glass case, he knew he found the one, once again.

He quickly checked out and put the box in his pocket. He didn't want a fancy little bag or a receipt. He knew you'd find those too quickly, and then that would make you start questioning things. Feeling the weight of the box in his pocket, it felt like a fire was burning against his skin. He wanted the proposal to be perfect, but he also wanted you to have the ring already dammit.

He sneaked back into the house and hung his jacket up. You weren't home yet so he just went to start dinner, completely forgetting about the ring after a while.

The next day, you had errands to run, and Logan had to go help Wade. You got up with Logan, and the two of you got ready together. You got dressed, grabbed your keys and your purse, and put on his leather jacket before leaving the house. When you threw the jacket on, it was noticeable that he had something in his pocket, but you didn't think anything of it, so you just went to the coffee table to put whatever it was on there. You stuck your hand in the pocket and grasped the small velvet box. When you pulled the box out, you gasped before you could stop yourself.

Logan was in the bathroom doing his hair when he heard you gasp. It was soft enough that he knew you weren't in danger, but it was clear you were shocked by something. Curiosity got the best of him, and he ended up wandering into the living room. "Baby? Are you okay in here?" He asked teasingly, but the color left his face when he saw what you had in your hands. "Oh shit."

"Lo?" You asked meekly as you turn to look at him better. Tears were already forming in your eyes, and you hadn't even opened the box yet. He was afraid to see your reaction when he did open the box if this is how you are right now. He took your hands into his and held them gently, "Baby..." He took the box from you and opened it in front of you, "whatya say? Will you marry me?"

It took you five seconds to respond but those were the longest five seconds of his life, it felt like his heart was about to be ripped from him and he couldn't breath as he waited to hear your response. You never did verbally say yes. You squealed and kissed him passionately before thrusting your hand close to his face "gimme" you said excitedly. You were practically bouncing as you watched him put the ring on your hand, and with tears finally falling freely, you looked at it closely before kissing him more softly. "I love it, it fits perfectly." This was the first purchase he ever made you that fit you just the way it was supposed to.

Request are open!!!!

Taglist: @mahi-tamashi @100percentlazybonez @lanassmarty

[n0ts0surel0ck]

Some autistic Sherlock headcanons!!

Based on my own autism

Sherlock hates getting his hair cut. He can’t wear ear defenders and he despises the small talk and how loud the clippers and blow dryers are. So, he generally wears his hair long and/or cuts it himself. Mariana eventually starts cutting it for him, since it equally bothers him when his hair touches his ears or neck. She’s just… not very good at it.

John finds a salon for Sherlock that does sensory appointments. It’s a silent appointment, so he doesn’t have to talk, and John gets him some earplugs to help with the noise. They’re not as good as his ear defenders but they do for the short time it takes to get his hair done. He mostly gets a dry scissor cut so he doesn’t have to be wet and so the clippers don’t touch him. He doesn’t like the vibration. He finds that he actually enjoys the sensation of a blow dryer when the sound isn’t overwhelming him. The heat and the air pressure are soothing.

Sherlock is very particular about fabrics. He despises polyester and other scratchy, synthetic fabrics. Everything he wears has to be 100% cotton. If he got his way, he’d wear an old pair of holey, decade old pajama pants and a jumper everywhere, but he doesn’t. He understands that he has to be presentable. He likes linen, the material doesn’t touch him as much, doesn’t stick to sweat, and allows for plenty of airflow. During spring and summer, and often stretching into fall and winter, he wears a pair of grey linen trousers. When it finally gets too cold, he switches to a pair of cotton ones that have an elastic waist band. He hates when there’s a lot of pressure below his diaphragm, so he keeps it loose. Shirts are mostly tees in the summer, a bit too big so they don’t touch him much. In the winter, he wears big sweatshirts, a half-peacoat, and a green scarf.

He’s been buying men’s high-top converse since he was in middle school and refuses to wear any other shoe. They’re comfortable, allow him to move without being heard, and don’t add to his height. He hates breaking in new ones, and so holds on to the ones he’s wearing for dear life. John has seen him wrap duct tape all the way around his shoe to keep the sole from falling out before.

His bedroom is kept perfectly organized by absolutely agonizing effort. He is particular about that space, since it’s where he rests. He doesn’t work in there. His chemistry equipment is in the living room and he never goes into the room on cases unless John forces him to change clothes. His room is a sensory heaven that he works tirelessly to keep so. Cleaning is difficult for him, but he resets the space every time he leaves it, even when he’s in a rush.

The rest of the apartment is a bust. His executive dysfunction takes over as soon as he crosses the threshold into the hallway. He leaves toothpaste uncapped, cups and plates everywhere, clothes wherever they fall. It drives John insane and he tries to clean up after himself, but it feels like an insurmountable task.

His hyper fixations overtake conversation constantly. Sometimes he and John will engage in conversation that is just… incomprehensible to those around them. John’s talking about the weather and Sherlock’s talking about Pendolino trains. Neither is acknowledging the other’s topic of conversation, but they’re responding to each other in turn and seemingly having a lovely time.

He likes to stim “with” John when something exciting happens. He grabs both of John’s hands so they’re facing each other and has John pull him back and forth quickly. He likes it when John and Mariana mimic a stim back to him, especially vocal ones. When the three of them are in the office together, it’s just an echo chamber of mouth pops and buzzes.

Sherlock respects the fuck out of routine. His in unconventional, but he follows it almost religiously. This means he respects other’s routines just as aggressively. He never moves John’s items, and if he borrows anything, he puts it back exactly where it was, position and all. He noticed John folding laundry in a certain way and now, if he steals one of John’s shirts and washes it after, he folds it in that certain way.

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

Things you can write instead of the 'Y/N wears someone's tee shirt and it's sooo big on her' trope aka ways to avoid fatphobia in your fanfics.

So - this is a discussion I have had on my blog many, many times before. (Not just on this blog, but also on my previous blogs.)

But in general the 'Y/N wearing skinny canon character's shirt' trope (especially if that shirt is described as being 'oversized' on the reader character) - it's a big yikes from me. And it can turn off a lot of potential readers. And in general, it's not very friendly to plus-sized people in the fandom. It is fatphobic, because it automatically describes the reader character's body type as being super petite at worst, and at the very best - they are thin, because stereotypically, most of the popular love interests that we write for are also thin.

So how can you avoid this trope?

Well typically, this trope is used to show intimacy in a relationship. Whether it is used to show FWB upgrading to something more, or used to show comfort and intimacy in a long-standing relationship, usually wearing a love interest's clothing means the same things - comfort, familiarity, and relaxation around this person. Being comfortable enough to share things like their clothing, especially without asking.

So, here are some ways to show intimacy in a relationship without using this tired trope:

Have the characters share clothing or accessories that don't have a set size. Something that is truly 'one size fits all'. This same trope can be done in a size inclusive way using something like a scarf, or a hat, or even jewellery like a necklace - this could work especially well if the character has some kind of signature hat or something that they are known for, and they want their lover to wear it. Personally I think wearing someone's scarf to keep you warm during the winter months is a deep form of intimacy.

Reverse the trope. Have the canon character wear something that belongs to the reader character. It is very size inclusive to say that the canon character is wearing the reader's tee shirt or sweatshirt and it is oversized on them - the reader could be thin and simply buy very large shirts for themselves because they like a big fit, or the reader could be plus-sized and their clothing fits baggy on their lover. It works well in my opinion.

Have one of the characters cook for the other. This is a very easy way to show intimacy - if you want to show their relationship upgrading as more serious in your story, especially if you're going for them upgrading from FWB to more serious lovers, then having one of them cook breakfast for the other after sleeping over is a great way to show that they are getting more emotionally serious about the relationship. Also, in a long-standing relationship, cooking someone's favourite meal is a great, quiet way to show that you know them well and that you care.

Have the characters exchange a key to their home or apartment. There are a lot of steps between declaring a relationship official and marriage, and this is a good one to show your characters participating in. Especially if you want to show them slowly upgrading their intimacy. Or show in your story that they already have a key to their love interest's apartment to show that kind of familiarity and ease in the relationship.

Have the characters use the bathroom together. So many people default to shower sex - but that is not at all practical irl and not something a lot of people actually do. If you want to show real intimacy, show your characters showering together in a non-sexual manner, or show one of them brushing their teeth at the sink while the other is in the shower and show them casually having a conversation while they do it - show that casual nudity means nothing to them, and their routine is always shared. This is a great way to show that familiarity and comfort in a relationship.

Have the characters wear each other's perfume/scent. This is like a size inclusive, non-visual version of the tee shirt trope - having the reader character wearing your love interest's cologne or even their signature scent in the form of a body wash (again, the bathroom thing - if they used the same bath products, then they will smell the same) - have the people around them recognise that they are in a serious, comfortable, long term relationship because they now smell the same. Like an unconscious claiming of the person you love, them always being with you, floating in the air around you.

Idk, this is just a few. But I think there's lots of ways to avoid the trope in fics

[ihatepeanutss]

constantly thinking about steve hating the holidays, specially christmas, because of his family issues, mom who only loved being at charity events for holidays and a dad he didn't like, until he meets the love of his life and the light in his eyes ballerina!reader.

he will go to all the performances just to see his favorite dancer be the sugar plum fairy, taking every week and even his days off forcing everyone to attend wearing a suit, dress and etiquette, he will drive to the Indianapolis theater without caring what it is so far or very close.

when he met you he thought you were a ray of light and a spring girl, not until it was the first Christmas season, seeing you get really excited when selecting the Nutcracker characters and what their act would be.

steve loves to take his time putting on a formal suit, hair perfectly tidy, matching the tie with the beautiful dress his star dancer will wear that night, buying flowers and having a homemade dinner for two waiting for you at home. once the show is over, whether he went with the crew or not, he will wait for you with his bouquet in his hands and his arms open to kiss your lips and not stop telling you that you were the best, even if you are only in tights and an old sweatshirt that you had stolen from him.

he loves you so much that the first time he saw you being the sugar plum fairy with the crew, Max and Mike definitely couldn't help but make fun of how Steve took Robin's camera and took photos of the love of his life. After each show he would take off your sneakers and caress your legs to make you feel better and keep telling you that you were the best of the entire show.

he will definitely have a table designated for the nutcrackers, whether it's christmas or not, where there is a photo of the first christmas recital he was and a nutcracker <3

he just loved seeing you happy talking about the happiness the Christmas season gave you just because of “the nutcracker” and seeing your beautiful ballet dancer and happy winter girl.

[andy4yippee]

favorite byler headcanons? and/or favorite byler aus? :)

Youre a livesaver!!!😭

OK! Heres my list 😙

HEADCANONS :

- Will hates the dark after what happened in 1983– the way it lurked, the way items look like monsters without light. He always would leave his light on because of this. He also got horrible sleep, and woke up multiple times because his room was lit. When mike finds out, he makes a mixtape of him humming, which will had always found comforting for when he sleeps. Will never got a bad sleep again, and even brought it with him to California.

- Mike notices the ways people smell, especially ones hes close to. He likes to wears his moms sweatshirts in winter, his sisters coat when it rains, and even teds hat, because he simply finds it comforting. One day, he thinks more about wills smell, and asks what shampoo he uses, so he can buy it just to use it on his hair occasionally to comfort himself. (Bonus : mike took a lot of wills items in his room he gave away at a yard sale before they mived, including shirts, sweatshirts, etc, and wears them regularly.)

- Before will moves, mike and him make posters for his new room/new house so it wouldn’t feel so unfamiliar.

- will is allergic to dust. Gets hives if he’s near it, or breathes it in! He’s even gone to the hospital. Due to this, mike always cleans his basement with a duster just for will, and even cleans wills room for him!

- mike gets silent attacks after everything that happened- eddies death, vecna, even if they didnt seem to directly affect him. He feels selfish about them because dustin, el, will, etc, have it way worse. So, he hides it. One day, will recognizes his nervousness, and has a deep conversation with him, which ends in mike falling asleep in wills arms.

- Mike is allergic to pickles.

- Will is Autistic - (sensitive to sound, texture issues, not as talkative are his main symptoms)

- Mike has ADHD - (TALKED too much, but finds his oldself annoying and bottles it up, gets excited over certain topics, loud noise sensitive)

MY FAVORITE AUS!

- Vampire!Mike and Human OR WereWolf!Will

- Wizard!Will and Muggle!Mike (haha they have the same letters)

- CluelessFlorist!Will x OnlyHasASoftSpotForHimVigilante!Mike (specific but my all-time favorite)

- KindScientist!Will x MeanHybrid!Mike

- ConventientStoreWorker!Mike x FlusteredCustomer!Will

[delopsia]

Chills | Rhett Abbott x Reader

Word Count: 1,300  Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: Brief mention of food, but the biggest thing you have to worry about is getting a cavity 

From across the fairgrounds, Rhett looks tiny.

All six feet of him reduced down to six inches, thick forearms wrapped around his own, lithe little waist. Teeth sunk into his thin bottom lip, boot idly tracing shapes into the dirt, his gaze so heavy that it's become stuck on the floor, only able to glance up at you for a brief second before falling back down. The corner of his lip quirks upward as your eyes meet, lifts his hand just enough to offer you the tiniest wave you've ever seen.

If you'd known he would be here, then you would have agreed to come here with your friends a hell of a lot earlier. You're supposed to be waiting in line to buy a fountain drink, but the longer you watch your sweet cowboy restrain himself from coming over, the more you want to step out of line. 

You can hardly remember leaving the line; all you know is that those eyes of his are disappearing beneath a smile that grows bigger with your every step. 

"Is my big bad boyfriend afraid to approach me while I'm with my friends?" Your playful cooing is only meant to annoy him, but his ears blossom with vibrant cherry red.

His arms open up just in time to catch you in them, carefully squeezing you against his chest as he hums contentedly into your ear, "didn't wanna intrude." 

Rebecca once complained about Perry inserting himself into all of her group outings. Rhett's been perpetually worried ever since. His arms don't loosen to release you as you expect them to; instead, they tremble as he draws you in even closer. 

A smile works its way across your face, "is someone cold?"

"Uhuh."

The poor thing has been dealt the worst of cards. Sensitive to the slightest of temperature changes, shivering the moment the temperature drops below sixty-five but breaking a sweat the second it rises over eighty. It only makes sense that he'd be born into a ranching family that relies on their sons to work out in the elements.

Cecelia says he's been like this since the day he was born; Royal and Perry find it irritating, says it's something he should have gotten over years ago, but you've started to find it a little endearing. He needs at least four blankets to snuggle in if you're not there to keep him warm, always sneaks up behind you to steal a little warmth off of you. 

"I didn't expect to find you here," you can't help but find yourself yawning; hugs like these lead to naps so often that you've come to subconsciously expect them.

The only reason you're released from his grasp is because he wants to run his hands through his hair, strands of unruly hair poking out as he does it, "'m third wheelin' for Perry again."

It only makes sense that you steal him away and integrate him into your little group. He's so quiet and happy to be there that they hardly notice his presence to begin with. A shadow that wants nothing more than to steal bites of your snacks, hold your hand, and occasionally nuzzle up to you from behind.

"Does he always do that?" One of your friends chirps in between bites of her newly acquired donut.

You don't need to look to know what she's talking about. Scruffy chin resting on your shoulder, eyes closed, arms loose around your waist. Sound asleep, like he's in bed.

"He does."

When you're not there to keep him warm during the colder months, Rhett resorts to drastic measures. In the wooden chest next to his bed, he hides a handful of sweatshirts thick enough to drown you. They're ridiculously heavy, but it's necessary in order to keep him from getting hypothermia again.  

The winter hoodies are the only ones you don't steal, and if you do, it's only for a few minutes. He's only got three of them, and they're too hot to wear inside for long. But today, he's just gotten himself a fourth one, and it's just about swallowed you. 

"Y'know," grinning from where he's leaned up against the door frame, "I almost got a second one so we could match."

"I thought you didn't care for matching clothes?" You comment, fiddling with the sleeve. 

His shoulders rise and fall with a shrug, "'ts the closest I can get to wearin' your clothes like you do with mine."

You need help to escape the clenches of the too-hot material, it's so long that you struggle to lift it over your head. Fortunately, you've got a handsome cowboy to save you before you begin to drown. It's such a brief interaction, easily forgettable within a matter of minutes, but it's glued into the back of your mind. 

Rhett's tried squeezing into one of your hoodies in the past, having forgotten to bring a change of clothes the first night he spent with you. With snow on the ground, it's hard to complain about ill-fitting clothes when your only other option is freezing.

And so maybe, just maybe, you start looking online for hoodies that would comfortably fit him. Something you can share without struggle or risk of ripped seams. That singular hoodie he borrowed back then has never quite been the same. There are plenty of options on every site you visit, but all of the men's options are remarkably plain. Nothing stands out. 

But then you find it.

You're idly poking through a rack of hoodies that you like, irked about how they seem to only have it in men's when it hits you. The size they have the most of is one size bigger than the one Rhett wears.

Handed to you on a silver platter.

For the first week, you wear it around the house while Rhett's gone, living in it like you would any other hoodie. It's soft and cozy, but the proportions are ridiculous. The hood feels like a damn tunnel when you pull it up over your head, and the sleeves are so long that you struggle to roll them up. You already knew it would be just as big on Rhett, but you didn't realize how big it would be until now.

Because now he's standing in your living room, nervously chewing on the side of his index finger while you take in the sight that stands before you. It looks even bigger on him. Soft material so loose on his shoulders that it's slouched off to the side, the ends of it reaching down to ghost the backs of his pale thighs. And the sleeves, oh, the sleeves. They engulf him, reaching all the way down past his fingertips and then some.

The hand that he's not biting idly opens and closes, unused to the feeling of being covered by a sleeve like this. His eyes don't know what to do with themselves, bouncing off the walls, unable to stay still for longer than a few seconds. 

"Feel like y'er 'bout to start laugh'n at me," he garbles, still gnawing on his poor finger. 

Giggling, you open your arms wide, inviting him to come and snuggle on the couch, "you look cute."

Even tucking his nose down into the collar cannot hide the red that's settled into his cheeks, so obvious that you can see it even before he settles down. Head resting against your chest, a gentle, comforting weight on top of you. You're afraid to say a whole lot, one too many comments, and you fear he'll combust, but he speaks after a while.

"'s nice." 

It's not a perfect cure for the chills that plague him on a daily basis. He still snuggles up to you whenever the slightly frigid breeze gets under his skin and fills his bones with ice. The need for late-night snuggles and the emergency "my favorite teddy bear isn't here to keep me warm" blankets will forever be on standby.

But every once in a while, you'll be out and about, and you'll catch glimpse of a lone Rhett swaddled in a familiar stolen hoodie, nose shoved into the collar because it smells like you. And when he catches glimpse of you and offers you his tiny little wave, you know that he's not cold, but he still wants you to come warm him up.

[vampire-meta-knight]

Goth DIY: Altered Clothing part 2 (final part)

Part 1

This part will be shorter since we have less to cover. But it's still a long post, so I'm putting it under a cut.

Skirts and dresses! The last two dresses and green skirt took the most sewing, but the first dress was as simple as sewing studs on the neckline. The black velvet skirt was altered a bit more to fit me, as it was originally a skirt that had small pleats at the top that made the skirt cling to my stomach and flare out further down, which wasn't flattering on me, so I cut that part off and added a new waistband to get a circle miniskirt, then added lace trim to the hem for extra cuteness and a fancy touch.

Attaching skirts to a crop top is an easy way to make a dress if you don't want to sew one from scratch, but the waistlines did turn out a little wonky, so I use a belt or cardigan to hide that. I also sew a thin line of elastic onto the skirts to gather them before sewing them to the top to make it a little easier and to maintain stretch, since these dresses just pull on. I also don't hang them by the tops, but by draping them through a hanger to avoid stretching out the tops because the skirts are a little heavy (at least mine are, since I added so much to them).

For the green skirt, I added triangular inserts called "godets" to make the skirt flare out, since it was too tight before and didn't swish. I like a good swish.

The skirt with all the lace and pins and grommets and nonsense was one of my earlier projects, so it has three mistakes which I implore you to avoid. One: I didn't line the fabric loops up with the waistband very well, so they look crudely tacked-on. Two: I didn't add any fray check to the holes I made for the grommets, so they stretched out and the grommets are no longer attached to the fabric, just floating there on the ribbon. Three: I didn't stretch the skirt as I sewed on the lace, so now it doesn't stretch in that area; it still fits my waist, but I have to fight with it to get it over my hips. The design is still cute, but I would definitely do it better if I were to make it nowadays.

The half-and-half skirt only has a small alteration, which was actually to make it fit rather than to change how it looked. You see, sometimes you order something online in the same size you always wear from that brand, and sometimes that thing ends up running small and has no stretch. When that happens, when the skirt almost fits you and is just so close to buttoning all the way, get yourself a waistband extender. I made one, but you can also buy them. It's just a piece of elastic with a button on one side and a button hole on the other. Put that on, and BAM! The skirt (or pants) fit you. They won't quite zip up all the way, and it is a noticeable change, so I made a cute lace-covered patch to cover up that alteration so you can't tell I changed anything about it at all.

Now onto the sweaters. I love wearing sweaters in winter, but there seems to be a shortage of goth ones. Nothing a few safety pins and lace trim can't handle! The first three only have safety pins added to them. The coffin ones were done the same way I did my sweatshirts, but this was before I knew about fusible interfacing for appliques, so they got a little wrinkled and don't look as nice. I have a better method now, as detailed in the post I linked. The fabrics were all Halloween fat quarters from Walmart, and I found a picture of a coffin on Google Images as a base to cut out the right shape.

All of these sweaters were thrifted except the two solid black ones with pins--the first one came from Walmart, and the second one was given to me by my mom. Sweaters are plentiful at thrift stores, and they don't even have to be black to be turned into something goth.

That's all of my altered clothing so far, unless there's anything I'm forgetting! Which there easily could be, because I shared about forty garments O-O

I'll share the jewelry I've made next, and then the clothes I've sewn from scratch! This will come sometime in the future, though, because it took awhile to find everything, take pictures of it, and then write about it. And between you and me, I've made a LOOOOOT of jewelry and clothing, so give me some time. As I said in the last post, feel free to message me if you want more detailed instructions or ideas. I'm always happy to help!

Stay crafty!

[ashleywool]

"I LOVED THAT SHOW"

I wore my How to Dance in Ohio hoodie to church today. It's Palm Sunday and we did our customary palm procession from Duffy Square into the building, which is nice and all except winter decided to come back and bite my skin off again...so that sweatshirt seemed like the best choice as warm enough for the weather + can fit under my choir robe + won't get swelteringly uncomfortable once we're inside at the service. It did the job. Truly the ultimate transition piece. Get yours today while supplies last.

At fellowship afterwards, someone from the congregation that I didn't know--she's only in NYC part of the year--pointed out my sweatshirt and said "I LOVED THAT SHOW!"

It took her a moment to recognize me (she initially confused me for Madison, which, yeah that happens, I'll never be mad about it), and we had a lovely chat about the show. And what I noticed after walking away was...the subject of autism, or me being autistic, didn't come up at all.

I love and cherish the advocacy aspect of my work on HTDIO. I love and cherish the opportunity it gave me to be the autistic representation I wished I'd had growing up. But I have to say, it was SO nice to have someone, a total stranger, talking about the show and loving the show independent of The Autism Part.

It was wonderful being part of discussions about diverse representation, and I will never turn down opportunities to eagerly participate in those conversations. But I really wanted us to stick around long enough that the "novelty" aspect of "autistic characters played by autistic actors" (or even "canonically nonbinary/genderqueer characters") would wear off sufficiently for more people, so they could focus on the story and the characters and the music and all the other things that make our show great irrespective of the Representation aspect.

I've had a ROUGH few weeks, y'all. Truthfully, I've been going through one of the worst depressive episodes of my life. Aside from the obvious grief factor and logistical stressors, it turns out that post-operative depression is absolutely a thing. While I'd like to think I'm cognitively and emotionally mature enough to handle this level of change, especially considering how lucky I am to have robust support systems in family, friends, and healthcare practitioners, my very autistic nervous system has had a difficult time letting the sympathetic part cooperate with the parasympathetic part. So I've been a ball of tension, exhaustion, and worst of all, that soul-sucking apathy where nothing seems enjoyable or interesting, but maybe it would be if I had the energy to be interested.

It's helped to find a great physical therapy clinic that is giving me comprehensive, multi-pronged care and NOT charging me copays (because apparently my insurance pays them excellently--thank you, Equity-League and Cigna). It's helped that I got back in touch with a therapist I had seen years ago on BetterHelp (she's since left the platform and honestly, GOOD FOR HER). It's helped that I have parents with the means to help me out financially--and, crucially, the means to keep me accountable without resorting to pressure and guilt-tripping. It's helped to still live in a city where financial assistance isn't excruciatingly hard to come by if all else fails (at least compared to other states). It's helped to have agents submitting me for tons of exciting projects, and having several cabarets and readings to look forward to in this time of transition. It's helped to have a really chill, supportive church community keeping me spiritually grounded without buying into the yt American evangelical toxicity. It's helped to have my cats.

But sometimes, what makes me the happiest of all, is hearing "I LOVED THAT SHOW!"

I'll never not be proud to be known for How to Dance in Ohio and everything we stood for. I'm proud that the love was real, and the quality of the material reflected and reverberated that love. I'm proud of the representation aspect, and I'm proud that it wasn't just about that. And people who saw it, saw all of that.

It's so comforting to know that we shared this show with enough people that it's going to continue to matter.

People aren't going to forget.

I love that for us.

By the way, it was too cold to really show it off, but this is the shirt I wore underneath the sweatshirt. :)

[feyhunter78]

obsessed with the idea of y/n getting cheesy spiderman merch and miguel js losing his mind when he sees her wearing it😭😭

AHHHH NO BUT HE WOULD LIKE OK QUICK VIBES

Soft:

Let’s say like you and Gabi have matching Spiderman sweatshirts that you wear during winter.

He just loves to see the two of you playing in the snow with them on, or like if y’all have little hats???

He just feels so happy because y’all’s are his girls, wearing his colors, his symbol, and it just 🥺🥺 he feels so content and he wants to buy y’all everything Spiderman themed🥺

Hard:

Say they made like a crop top with his symbol or sweatpants that say “property of Spiderman” on the ass BELIEVE ME he’s going FERAL

If it’s the crop top he’s fucking you in it, playfully teasing you for being a groupie, telling you how pretty you look in his colors while he fucks you missionary style, all heart eyes for you

But the sweatpants??? The SWEATPANTS???

He’s got you bent over the nearest surface, POUNDING INTO YOU and when you whine and tell him it’s too much he just chuckles.

“Property of Spiderman cariño, you said it yourself.”

You’re wrecked bro, boneless, fucked dumb, babbling his name and his ego is through the ROOF

[rottin6]

fashion style pleaseee layla, i have a gut feeling that you dress cool

apologies for the late reply but fashion is something i’m so. insane about that i wanted to make sure i give you a proper answer xo

i love love love to shop and i’m always buying clothes n stuff (just bought the most gorgeous bag ever) but my outfits are sorta consistent. like i feel like i’ve managed to finally cultivate my own style after years of going through (horrible) phases

(all my pictures)

i mainly wear dark tones, i have a lot of black in my wardrobe especially when it comes to accessories. the above pics are me when i’m going out but i’m obviously not going out all the time which is when i’ll either stay in my pyjamas or just stick to the whole cargos n sweatshirt combo. i am only 5’ however so sometimes i have to switch out the sweatshirt for a small top otherwise i will look like im drowning in my clothes which i do not want!

(not my pictures)

when it comes to shoes, i will wear the fuck outta heels cause i’m not growing taller anymore. kitten heels are my best friend but stilettos are a first love, can’t go wrong with either of them. heels n jeans are always a good combo for me but i am a london gal true and through so trainers/sneakers are a must. atm i fw adidas campus (not the sambas! hate them with a passion!). waiting for the new balance 530 trend to be over cause the 550s are just so much cuter

(not my pictures)

bags…might as well call them fucking cocaine. i love any kind of bags except for backpacks. i was well and truly that girl in high school who would carry all her shit in a bucket handbag cause why the hell would i want to rock up looking like rowley jefferson?? coach bags are my fave rn i just think they’re so pretty. i tried to like the lil mini bags but they’re so. inconvenient like bitch?? hello i can’t fit my phone in here!?

honorable fashion mentions:

love a little black dress, i will take every opportunity to wear one. love those big woolly scarves that you can wear around ur head in winter, best thing ever made. those lace tops that just look good with everything. leather jackets especially over a dress and it’s oversized and done right.

and i always always have my nails done n change my phone case depending on the outfit, i think they’re two things that really put a look together (moreso the phone case).

and that’s really it tbh, love u if u read all the way and cared about this as much as i do pls 😭

[hargrove-mayfields]

It’s fibromyalgia awareness day! 🦋

Fibromyalgia is a disability characterized by lifelong, unexplained body pain and numbness, memory problems, attitude changes, depression and anxiety, stomach issues, migraines, and sensory sensitivity.

Here’s a fic about Billy Hargrove (and Steve Harrington) having that disability!

content warnings for: discussion of child abuse and abandonment, ableism and ableist slurs, vomiting, detailed and stressful descriptions of chronic pain, illness, self-deprecation, and suicidal ideation.

~~~~~

Something is off with Billy.

Atop the lifeguard tower, wearing a long sleeved sweatshirt, sunglasses, and a hat. From the outside, it looks like he’s hiding from something. Trying to blend in.

Max had accused him of as much this morning. Pointed her finger right at him and started snapping her teeth about pretending everything was normal. The kid was almost in tears while she confronted him about telling the truth. But Billy had no idea what she was talking about.

His back fucking hurts and he wanted to wear a comfortable shirt, so fucking what? He doesn’t have to justify that to her.

Now he can feel all her creepy stalker friends staring at the back of his head at work. Even sees the glint of the magnifying something or another they’re using to watch him.

He can’t give a shit about whatever those tiny assholes have gotten in their heads about him. They’re probably doing a round of their stupid role play game shit again.

Whatever. Because sitting in this hard ass chair isn’t helping his pain any. The sun is fucking hot, but he’s got chills from how bad his body hurts, a deep ache all over in all of his limbs. The migraine certainly doesn’t help, but even his glasses and his hat aren’t enough to block out the harsh light.

The summer isn’t easy on his body. Neither is winter, or any other time. He never gets a break. But the heat is especially bad on his body, and specifically, the pain in his legs and shoulders. He’s got the body and immune system of a guy in his 60s instead of one who just turned eighteen a few months ago.

Some lifelong nerve disorder he’s had since he was a kid and would spend hours curled up in momma's arms screaming for relief. Good luck with that kid. He lost the only person that ever tried to help; he should’ve been grateful he used to even be able to ask for it.

Now, the best he gets is an apathetic glance. He buys drugs off of some sketchy kid in a creeper van to manage it himself. The doctors and Neil cut him off of his prescriptions a long time ago, accusing him of just trying to get free drugs. Even still Max gives him shit for taking random pills, and he knows she’s right, but he’s just trying to comfort himself when the going gets rough.

He’ll live. Get over it, kid. Man up.

Right now he can barely breathe.

Someone could be drowning three feet in front of him and he wouldn’t even notice. All because Heather had some emergency and needed to take off and leave Hawkins for a few weeks, and he had been the one stupid enough to volunteer to pick up all her shifts until she gets back in late July.

If he lasts that long.

Right now his stomach is twisting from how bad it all hurts. It’s indescribable. If he had to try, he’d say it’s like threading fishing wire through his muscles and tying his whole body in knots, tearing through tissue in the process. Like hammering nails into his joints to keep the mangled mess all together.

He's going to be sick.

It’s not time yet but he blows the whistle anyways, because he needs a fucking breather. There’s no one else on duty with him because today is slow after yesterday's rain. Who’s gonna know?

Those scurrying little shit head stalkers will probably notice. Still not his damn problem.

Billy manages somehow to drag himself to the back room to collapse onto a bench. He tries to tell himself he won’t cry, but it’s far too late for that. This is the worst he can ever remember it being on its own. At least since the beating he took right before the move. That was probably the actual hardest time of his life.

Doesn’t change a damn thing about how bad he feels now though. As he’s just laying there, pathetically wasting his shift away, there’s a painful feeling traveling up his spine and into his ribs, stealing his breath away. He feels so damn worthless. Nobody would probably even notice if he died right now. Suffocated from the inside by his own body.

But that’s not the way this works. The pain cracks open suddenly at the highest point of his spine like a fault line, leaving behind a deep set, intense flash of pain in his back and his ribs.

That’s his last straw. His lowest point. He drags himself off of the bench and literally crawls to the showers. Hot water might help, he needs it to, because this is unbearable.

The shame of pulling himself on his hands and knees across the pool’s filthy floors is almost too much. He wants to scream for help. But nobody’s going to come for him.

Nobody will find Billy collapsed in the shower stall, wheezing like he ran a marathon just from the extraordinary effort it took him to crawl ten feet. It feels like he’s dying. The ground is cold but he’s hot, his skin flushed and sticky with sweat. If he had the energy, he’d take off his shirt, but he’s stuck. Arms tucked underneath of him, one cheek pressing into the floor and just staring at the wall because it hurts too bad to even hold his head up. He’s stuck.

It feels like some other thing is piloting his body. Right now, the pain is. It took the reins and told him to sit. Like a damn dog, trained by his own weakness. A shock collar tightened around his neck from the day he was left alone with this hurt, choking and gagging him.

It feels like he’s already dead.

An hour or so passes. He can tell because he hears a distant blow of a whistle. They probably assumed he ditched work and stuck a manager onto guard duty. He’ll get pointed for this. He could lose his job just because he’s lying miserable in a pool of his own sweat and tears and vomit. Just because he can’t take a little pain.

Try as he might, nobody ever believes him that it’s not just a little. More like a full body sensation of being torn apart from the inside. Is this what a heart attack feels like? Jesus, maybe he is dying.

That thought sends a rush of adrenaline through him. It would anybody, no matter how many times he might have prayed for exactly that to happen when he was lying in bed just the same way as he is here on the cold, wet floor.

Billy forces himself to sit up. His arms wobble like they’re too weak to hold up his weight, but he pushes up until his back is propped against the wall, and he’s not really holding himself up at all. His head fell back and knocked against the wall too, pretty hard.

The pain shoots through his neck, precise lines of fire burning in his veins, from the back of his skull down into the base of his neck. His fingers go numb. He leans over and tries to throw up again. There’s nothing left in his body. He’s dehydrated. Starved. Sick of this.

He’s still going to ride the adrenaline shot for what it’s worth. It’s the only chance he has of not spending the night on the ground in this locker room. God he wishes he had somebody to help him.

It’s past the point of denying it; Billy needs help. If only he’d realized that before right this moment.

The next step is standing. There’s not enough power in his entire body to get his knees to straighten. He’ll have to pull himself up to at least a kneeling position.

His eyes are still blurry from hitting his head though. Protected by a shower curtain in the already dimly lit locker room, there’s barely enough lighting for him to see anything at all in this tiny stall. So he’ll reach blindly for the shower seat and try to pull himself back up.

Billy grabs the spicket instead. All he feels is metal and he assumes that’s good enough. He barely knows where he is right now.

Besides, whatever it is will act as a base to help him slide his back up the wall. His legs wobble all the way up and his knees stay bent, but slowly, slowly, he’s getting himself to his feet.

And then the spicket twists. Billy loses his grip and slips back down to the ground, harder and faster this time, and hits his elbow. There’s no suppressing the shout of pain that bubbles up from his throat when there’s what feels like electricity charging through every nerve in his arm from the one contact point. He had hit his left hip off the floor too, and his leg on that side went completely dead.

When he’d twisted that handle, it turned the water on too. Freezing cold. Hitting his body like shards of glass against his already aching and sore.. everything. Even with the weak water pressure, every drop feels like an electric shock, pressing down and down until he feels like he can’t even move from how deeply the pain goes.

Billy’s sure he’s actually going to die this time. It’s time to swallow his pride.

He calls for help, “Hey! Need a hand back here!”

Nothing. Just the sound of water rushing, soaking him and making him freeze. This isn’t going to end well.

Straining his voice to be heard, so weakened by his condition as to still sound meek even at his loudest, he tries again, “Adam! Come on, I know you’re working today!”

Billy doesn’t know how long he’s spent on the ground now. Hours could have passed. The goddamned pool might have closed and he could be all alone here. He grows desperate, “Somebody, please!”

Something snaps in the primal part of Billy’s mind. He physically can’t sit up. Can’t turn the water off. Can’t survive on his own.

He needs…

“Momma! Momma come back!”

Nothing

After some time the curtain opens, but Billy is barely conscious anymore. He doesn’t look up or move or anything. Just sees a shadowy pair of shoes in front of his face. There are tears on his face already. Anguish. Pain. Disappointment in himself.

Let it be the goddamned figure of Satan, as long as this suffering might end, and for the moment, it does. Everything, the stall, the figure, the whole world turns black as he loses consciousness.

———

Suddenly blinding white light hits Billy’s eyes when he opens them again. He’s in some room with a window, and the curtains aren’t closed. That’s how he knows it isn’t home, his own bedroom window long ago sealed over with a thick blanket for keeping the light out when he’s having a migraine.

The wall paper in this place is almost as headache inducing as the entire fucking sunshine positioning itself right in his face after god knows how long he was unconscious. Blue and red plaid that is as dizzying as it is tacky.

Nothing else in the room identifies who it belongs to, the only hint of personality being a sticker covered cane in the far corner.

Did he get fucking kidnapped by an old person? Maybe, but what kind of an old person uses Garfield puffy stickers on their mobility aids?

That question is answered when, after some trudging through the fog in his brain for any hint of who’s house he could be in, Steve Harrington opens the door to the room he’s in.

Like it’s totally casual to just bring somebody home from their work, no matter how fucked up they were, Steve just walks in and talks to him like it’s nothing, “Hey. I heard you up. You doing good in here?”

Billy stares in disbelief for a moment, squinting against the overbearing sunlight to see Steve, the action making his skepticism doubly apparent, to make up for the work his tired and crackly voice isn’t doing, “So you’re the one. Mother fucking knight in shining armor..”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I went to give Dustin a ride and he told me there was something off with you. I went to check and found you on the ground.” Steve explains it all, pacing around slowly. At least he shuts the curtains on the way before sitting on the other side of the bed Billy’s laying in. A fucking queen size, since he’s some rich messiah apparently. “Matter of fact, you still look pretty rough..”

Billy doesn’t like feeling his sympathy, something like humiliation burning in his face, second to the pain, “Just get back to your bullshit little family, Harrington.”

Steve protests the idea, arguing automatically, “It’s not complete without you.”

A beat passes. For a moment, Billy doesn’t know what to say. He knows what Steve means, because he’s Max’s brother and whatnot, but that sentence has him feeling some kind of sentimental.

His instinct is to become defensive, so he tries it, since every other aspect of this situation is completely out of his comfort zone, “Well, get used to it. Probably won’t be around much longer.”

He’s referring to the fact that he feels like death constantly, a looming feeling of failure in his body. Any moment he could lose his battle against this invisible thing he doesn’t understand.

Poor Steve doesn’t get it. “Oh. Are you moving away already?”

How optimistic, to think only a month of work after graduation would be enough for Billy to make it on his own. He’d think it was because Steve was sheltered, if he didn’t know the guy was working his ass off at the ice cream parlor almost every day of the week.

It almost makes him feel guilty, that he can’t be as hopeful as Steve is, “I’m giving up.”

“Billy..” The concern is so raw in Steve’s voice, it breaks something inside of Billy. His intense resilience could carry him through when he was by himself, but he isn’t this time. He wants to be, so he tells him that, “No. I said, go away, Steve..”

It’s at that moment that he breaks down crying. Not even lying on the hard cement floor at the pool did he feel this pathetic and broken. Painful sobs in his throat and his chest ripple through him in larger waves of stinging jabs. Like the very act of crying is a punishment.

“Billy. Hey. I’m not going anywhere.” Steve soothes, moving closer but keeping his hands off of Billy. Afraid to touch what is broken, Billy deduces. Though Steve at least seems genuinely interested and not just being creepily invasive, since he gently requests, “Tell me what’s up..”

In frustration, Billy exclaims simply, “It hurts!”

“What hurts? Do you need a doctor?” Steve looks him over now quickly, frantically, like a worried parent. That just makes Billy’s feelings hurt worse.

The question also makes him irrationally nervous, spiraling once he realizes that a trip to the doctors would mean Neil would find out this happened. That meant more pain, and right now, Billy can’t handle that. He rushes to insist, “No! They won’t do anything..”

Steve looks so sympathetic, asking all the right questions to make Billy feel heard, “How long’s it been hurting?”

“My whole fucking life. If you can even call it a life. It’s not worth living.” Billy sobs apathetically, earning a sad, slightly panicked even, look from Steve.

His caring nature prompts him to plead, “Don’t say that.”

Billy is so unused to having anybody that cares, he feels like he has to defend his self-deprecating remarks, “But I feel dead. I can’t sleep, but I can’t stay awake. I can’t keep down what I eat, and half the time it makes me fucking sick. I just hurt all over, and it makes it worse when-“

He stops himself abruptly. Harrington is sweet and all for doing this, but Billy barely knows him. Not as much as he wants to. There are some secrets that don’t just get blabbed to close strangers. Even ones he has a crush on.

Steve isn’t content with that, never is without the full picture. Or maybe Billy doesn’t mind sharing as much as he pretends to. Maybe it’s nice to feel listened to for the first time in forever.

“When what, Billy?”

“When my dad hits me.”

Short and to the point. Having a fucked up body means it’s agony going through what he knows no kid should have to. He’s never told anybody that before, especially not so bluntly.

Once or twice Billy has tried to imply he needed a hand back when he still believed other humans had the capacity to give a shit. Steve Harrington and his kind and wise brown eyes is the first goddamn sign he’s had since then that there’s a chance someone might still care.

So when Steve tries to apologize, saying, “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have-“ Billy is quick to interrupt.

He tries to sound more gentle than his previous, snappier responses had come out, “It’s fine.”

Stubborn apathy crashes into the force of determined empathy. A battle Billy doesn’t mind losing.

Not when Steve so passionately argues, “No it’s not! You need help, you can’t do this all on your own!”

And finally, going against what last bit of his aching soul wants him to believe in, Billy lets him in.

Instead of arguing, or asking in bad faith, he genuinely wants to know, “How do you know what this is like?”

“Have you ever heard of fibromyalgia?” Steve prompts, his eyes lighting up as bright as the morning sun when he recognizes that Billy isn’t pushing him away anymore, but inviting him in on his own terms.

It doesn’t help that he literally hasn’t heard of that though, shrugging to show his ignorance. The action of raising his shoulders up hurts though, and it dies out halfway, along with a pained grunt. To make sure Steve got his message, Billy answers verbally instead, since his skeleton is fighting so hard against his broody body-language thing, “Fuck no.”

“I could tell you about it, but just by hearing what you went through, I think I know what you’re going through. I got diagnosed just a few years ago.” Steve explains carefully, watching Billy like he’s about to say the wrong thing at any second.

Billy just stays quiet while he processes everything Steve is saying, but he realizes what exactly Steve was worried about saying once he continues, “Yeah, sometimes I have flare-ups and I can be right where you are. But, you know, I don’t have anyone at home actively trying to make it worse.”

That’s hard to hear. He’s right, and Billy doesn’t want him to be. Without the energy to get mad or lash out about it, Billy asks more questions.

“Flare-ups of what?”

“Fibromyalgia. Like I said. It’s a pain disorder. Makes you feel gross and sleepy and in pain all the time.” Steve puts it into words exactly like Billy has tried to for years, only they know the context between one another.

The sleepless nights writhing in agony, the loss of self, the torture from the inside out, it all goes without saying between the two of them. In Steve’s presence, Billy has a place where he’s understood instead of examined under microscopes and treated like a monster.

This drab bedroom suddenly feels like the only place he wants to be, saying with an almost awe-stricken quality to his voice, “So you really do get it, huh.”

“Mhm. Except I have it easier. I’ve got a Jewish Ima who loves me and lets me take breaks when I’m hurting instead of.. well.. the stuff your dad does.” So Steve isn’t letting that go.

Shockingly to even himself, Billy isn’t all that mad about it. Telling someone his deepest, darkest secret and having them actually listen, for the sake of helping rather than keeping dirt on him, that’s something Billy has never had before.

Now he just wants to know, “How do you fix it?”

Steve breaks the news softly, but in a huge way, “You don’t, B. It’s a disability.”

“I’m not-“ Billy tries to argue with that right away, associating that word with all the horrible things his dad had called him over the years. Fuck up. Cripple. Waste of space.

Something compels him about Steve’s brutally honest interruption of an explanation though, “I didn’t think I was disabled either until I slipped on my ass down the stairs and couldn’t walk for a month, long after the bruises, because I was in so much pain. That’s not normal for just any abled nineteen year old, and neither is what you went through last night.”

Even still, Billy’s impulse to argue is triggered, “So I just have to accept that I’m fucked up for life. But I don’t understand what I fucking did wrong?”

Steve doesn’t even hesitate for a moment before he’s assuring him, “Nothing. You didn’t do anything. It’s just a part of who you are.”

A failure. A fuck-up. All those rotten things come back in his head again, and Billy worries, for a moment, that Steve is turning on him. Mocking him.

“Yeah, damaged goods?” Billy scoffs, bitter and hurt, emotionally instead of physically for once.

Steve proves him wrong, for the thousandth time, and heals his heart just a little bit more, “Would you say that about me?”

“The opposite really.”

“But what does that mean?”

Well, Billy meant it in two ways. For one thing, Steve isn’t like him. Steve is kind, and loved, and all around doing better in life than him, relationships wise and career wise. It doesn’t feel right to compare all of his wrongs to all of Steve’s rights.

Though, because of how vulnerable he’s been already, it’s easier for Billy to say, “It means everything about you is fucking perfect. You got a good mom, a huge mansion, and probably the best fucking doctors out there.. Sure, maybe I gotta accept that I’m busted, but why can’t I be busted like you?”

“Why do you want to be?” Steve sounds like a therapist, and a damn good one too. He stays all soft and sweet and god it makes Billy frustrated.

He bursts out, talking with his hands without realizing that he’s been distracted long enough to recover enough energy to do so, “Because it’s easier for you!”

The final nail in the coffin. There’s nothing left Billy can say to pretend this isn’t what it is.

He’s jealous of Steve, he idolizes him, fucking loves everything about the guy. No matter what he argues he can’t hide how stupidly fond of the other boy he is, and has been. Even if the thoughts aren’t the sweetest, he’s got Steve on his mind, all the time and especially now that he’s being interrogated in his bed.

Crucify him, but Billy fucking Hargrove has a crush on Steve fucking Harrington’s

Steve isn’t afraid of that for even a second. “So let me help you, B. I don’t want to compete. I want to take care of you.”

While Steve isn’t afraid, Billy is. He’s terrified. Nobody has ever treated him like Steve, and his heart is getting too attached.

Hoping to get an answer that will either make the heart break easier or avoid it entirely, Billy asks him, “You’re not sweet-talking me, are you?”

Steve shakes his head patiently, “Nope, but I don’t know how to prove it to you. Can you tell me what you want me to say?”

“Fuckin’- Maybe.. some tips?” Billy tries. This isn’t natural or easy for him, asking for help. It took him this goddamn long to even accept that Steve was genuine, despite waking up in his bed more than an hour ago now. His trust has been established, but now he’s unsure what to do with it. So he keeps asking the questions nobody else has ever been able to answer for him, half to test Steve, and half just because he truly trusts Steve to answer, “How do I make it hurt less?”

“Self care. But-“ Steve starts, about to hand Billy the hard truth.

To avoid blaming Steve for it, Billy just decides to admit that reality out loud, “I know, I know. Going back home where my dad beats me doesn’t count as self-care. I know.”

Thankfully Steve moves on to giving more advice that doesn’t involve the tragic circumstances of Billy’s life, “Heating pads help.”

It sounds nice, but Billy has to admit, “I don’t have a-“

“I do.” Steve interrupts before Billy can finish, with all the eagerness and expectation of a new puppy waiting for a treat.

It’s charming and sweet, how much Steve wants to take care of him. Billy doesn’t want to outright accept or deny anything yet, the decision feeling too large when his head is still hurting and his thoughts are all jumbley and messy.

He’ll settle for giving Steve a fond smile, to make his words match the positive feelings in his heart, “You really want me to accept your help, don't you?”

“Uh, fucking yes.” Steve laughs, like it’s really nothing stressful for him. Like he’s happy that Billy might stay.

It’s not as easy for Billy to get to that stage of comfort, so he wonders, “And if I do say yes?”

“I’ll drive you home today to help Max pack you a bag, and you’ll move in with me. Hopper will deal with your dad while my Ima and I help you manage your pain and get you a new doctor. And make you good food.”

That sounds like a fucking dream. The fact that Steve came up with it so quickly somehow even dreamier, “You’ve thought about that before, haven’t you?”

“I like you a lot, Billy.” Steve confesses.

It’s almost too good to be true. As a matter of fact..

“In what way?” Billy asks skeptically, after everything, the fight, the showing his true colors, he can’t believe that Steve would have those kinds of feelings for him.

But, for the thousandth time, Steve proves Billy’s unintentionally cynical assumptions wrong, when he details, “In the way that I like you. I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like, butterflies in my chest and I can’t stop thinking about you, and when I see you hurting I just want to hold you and make it all better.”

Billy can tell he’s blushing and his eyes are wide, “Really?”

Steve sounds breathless, like he can’t believe he just confessed all of that. Still, he doesn’t deny it, though he clearly begins to worry how Billy feels, “Yeah. I’m sorry if that’s-“

“You’re the first.” Billy says abruptly, before Steve can take back his love. Though the sudden declaration seems to confuse Steve, according to the furrow of his brow, so Billy explains his thought process, “You’re the first person to care about me like that.. But you deserve better than a broken-“

“Hush. You’re not broken. You need a little TLC is all.” Steve says it all so confidently, and since he’s been right about everything else, Billy finally feels ready to believe him.

He just has one more question, “And you’re seriously saying you’re gonna be the one who does it?”

“Yes! Please, Billy. Let me.” Steve begs for the right to love Billy. And that, that dedication and longing- that convinces Billy.

The time for words is past, instead letting their body language do the talking. At first, Steve is just holding Billy’s hand, but Billy gets closer and closer, until they’re arms are pressed right against one another.

Billy is pretty sure he across Steve first, connecting his lips with his, kissing him softly, but with all the passion he’d saved up for the months he’d loved Steve in secret.

Yesterday is still affecting Billy, stealing his breath away and making it so he needs a break. He taps Steve’s cheek and they part, but only enough to get their bearings back. Steve patiently waits until Billy is ready again, smiling as Billy leans in and they kiss once more.

It’s nothing too intense. After all the emotions of today, they aren’t ready for that. Right now is for gentle affection, and love, and all the tender moments that Billy’s suffering had robbed them of.

Steve adds at some point, after they’ve been cozying up for a while, “By the way, the kids are going to apologize to you.”

“Nah, they didn’t do anything wrong.” Billy shrugs, not really bothered by their stalking, even if it was a little weird.

Steve makes a guilty face and Billy can tell he doesn’t have the full story before Steve even explains it, “They almost did. Their solution before they called me was going to be to put you in the sauna. Burn the sick out.”

Oh. Now he’s a little more than fucking bothered. Those little assholes are gonna get somebody killed someday.

“Holy shit, never my fucking mind. I expect a damn cake and a handwritten, formal apology.”

“Right?” Steve rolls his eyes at the thought of them, and Billy does too. Already on the same page, Steve thinking exactly what Billy is, he says it, punctuated by a kiss on the cheek, “Later, you’ll have it. Right now you need some sleep more than any of that.”

“I’m not gonna say no, but…” Billy shuffled into a comfortable lying position, and pats the pillow next to his head, wiggling around to make room for Steve to lay by his side, “Care to join me?”

Steve laughs, a bright bubbly sound, and copies him by laying down and getting comfortable, “For sleep, yes. I need a goddamn nap.”

Billy ends that morning with an arm around his middle, a puff of hair in his face, and a full feeling in his heart. Billy is finally safe. Finally at ease. He mumbles, barely awake as that comfortable feeling sets it, “Thanks, Stevie. Love you.”

“Don’t worry about it. And I love you too.” Is Steve’s easy response, without needing to prepare it or anything.

Everything is just fine with Billy.

[uriekukistan]

Happy weekend! Hope you’re doing well x

Got any dance au outfit hcs? Ik we already established Yuuji and his Jordans collection :D maybe for Megumi specifically what he wears for ballet vs hip hop class?

hiii liz thank u for the ask !! hope you’re also well :)

my lovely friend @melloneah drew a very cool megumi in his street clothes here !! which is very close to how i picture him dressing for hip hop class most often.

something like these two also. basically: biggest t shirt he can find, and track pants or sweatpants. i typically picture him wearing converse or vans for shoes (usually converse). just his everyday sneakers. maybe in the future he’ll buy a pair of shoes just for hip hop, but not right now

gojo’s pretty relaxed about what students can wear to class, but megumi’s a creature of habit and always shows up in the same uniform he had in ballet school. every day. without fail. he does have a matching warmup set with pants & a jacket that he wears over top to warm up on his own, plus booties ofc (all in black), but the second it’s time for actual class, he’s just in the classic combo, as pictured.

outside of dance, he wears things like this

yuuji wears the same types of clothes all the time for hip hop class, ballet class, non dance classes…big baggy shorts and interesting graphic shirts + the jordans collection. he’s wearing those shorts in winter too. but if he wants to look a bit nicer (for megumi :3) he wears baggy jeans, and then in the winter he might go for a thicker sweatshirt rather than a tee. no matter what, it’s all baggy, all the time for him

for some other characters: yuuta gets cold easily so he’s always bundled up with layers of warmups. maki has a pretty large leotard collection, with a preference for 3/4 sleeves and open backs. warm up pants for barre and wrap skirt for center. inumaki has been wearing the same shoes for dance since high school and dreads the day he has to replace them (the soles are hanging on for dear life). and then i found this outfit while browsing pinterest and i think it’s something nobara would wear for class

thank you again for the ask :D

[casualdadnomad]

more silly college gaang headcanons! i made a post like this for the high school au a while back so i’m gonna revamp that with 🍂 college gaang in the autumn 🍁

masterpost 🐿️

fall weather enthusiasts: sokka, katara, mai, suki, zuko

absolute cold weather HATERS: azula, toph, ty lee, aang

aang tries not to be a hater in any aspect of his life but at the end of the day he is not built to be chilly !!!!!

toph just doesn’t like that shoes season is approaching for her

zuko despite being more tolerant of heat than most just likes to wear warm fall clothes

azula is a bitter hater as soon as the temperature drops under 60 degrees (me too)

aang is absolutely an iced pumpkin cold foam chai addict

the whole gaang spends a saturday going pumpkin and apple picking

they come back and carve pumpkins outside sokka and aang’s dorm building because sokka drove them to the pumpkin patch

toph commissions sokka to make the scariest face possible on her pumpkin. he makes it extremely cute.

as the resident artist on the team he does a lot of helping the rest of the gaang with their pumpkins

katara is way too much of a perfectionist with hers but it does pay off, she makes a perfect pumpkin

azula smashes hers because her carving was off center

she’s so me

aang tries to carve appa into his but it looks more like a huge blob and he is proud of it regardless

toph's hatred towards the cold translates to her not buying her own fall or winter clothes

"since when were you on a high school swim team" "this sweatshirt is katara's dont tell her"

she especially loves to steal merch for stuff she obviously didn't do / go to

south pole music festival 2023? sokka's. eras tour? ty lee's. ba sing se university one acts festival? zuko's.

cheerleader ty lee, color guard suki, and women's rugby toph all have sports in season and zuko and ty lee are working on the fall musical

everyone gets bundled up to go to the football games to see ty lee and suki every home game

every away game mai and sokka drive there to support their gfs as long as it's an hour or less away

everyone goes to see the fall musical too

even if ty lee isn't the lead and tbh there is something so special to me about ty lee in ensemble (me core)

they all see it at least once, sokka goes to every show to take pictures

none of them celebrate thanksgiving obviously but they do still get that break mid semester

maybe they're all from around the same place? maybe not? maybe the set up is exactly like it is in the atla universe and theyre from seperate corners of the world? but as of right now i don't think it matters

everyone visits iroh at zuko and azula's home for that mid semester break :)

they also visit hakoda and bato!

not toph's family though she actually doesn't tell them she even has a break

the gaang does a pie making contest in the communal dorm kitchen

they make a mess. they spend the same amount of if not more time cleaning this mess as they did actually baking.

the teams were pulled from a hat so we got sokka and toph, katara and zuko, aang and azula, and one group of three with mai, ty lee and suki

sokka and toph's pie was perfect because toph did not help

katara and zuko's was so incredibly disgusting

aang and azula's was not even recognizable as a pie and also on fire

the group of three also made a perfect pie

sokka and toph won because sokka made a lattice crust and no one else knew how to do that

okay this post is getting long so im gonna stop here ily have a great day !! thanks for reading :)

[jenroses]

Sensory friendly affordable plus sized clothing 2024

Current wardrobe:

Tops:

Long and short sleeve t-shirts from Target's Ava and Viv continue to be a staple, specifically the ones in modal/spandex. These fit well both when I was a 5x and had a huge chest and post top surgery depending on neckline, even though the top size is 4x.

Woman within tab front rayon tunic: https://www.womanwithin.com/products/three-quarter-sleeve-tab-front-tunic/300220588.html

I bought a size up because not stretchy but this top is my go to if I want something that looks nicer. I hand stitched the placket most of the way closed as it is too deep post top surgery.

Hoodies: https://www.womanwithin.com/products/cloud-bliss-pleat-back-swing-sweatshirt/301812000.html

The Cloud Bliss sweatshirt is baby French terry according to the listing but it's very smooth and works exceedingly well in layers. Smooth enough to wear without an underlayer, extremely soft, no pilling through many washes, warm in winter indoors and cool enough for late spring and early fall, this really helps with temperature regulation for me.

Bottoms:

I get most of my long pants from target: Goodfellow makes pajama pants in the men's section that come in a wide range of sizes. They also do pajama shorts.

Also from Target,

These used to be called something else but they are the softest, stretchiest pants.

Socks:

Search yomandamor diabetic socks on Amazon. They're bamboo, super stretchy and work for my weird, sensitive feet with low level peripheral neuropathy.

I need clothing to be smooth, non-binding, and good at temperature regulation. I have all sorts of sensory weirdness and nerve issues and the general combination of pajama pants, thin long sleeved modal t and swing hoodie has been absolutely ideal 10 months out of the year.

In the summer it's shorts or maxi dress, but I don't know what's currently available there as I've been wearing the same ones for years.