#this was like 100lbs ago too

[lilcowzia]

thinking once again abt the time a person who got weight loss surgery tried to give me all her 'fat clothes' and i was too fat for all of them 😵‍💫

[kenisle]

are there any fics about the existential/body horror and everyday idiosyncrasies of being wolverine — indestructible heavy metal skeleton, knife hands, healing factor, amnesia, and eternally chained to this mortal plane cursed to watch everyone around you age and die except this one really weird guy you can’t fucking stand who also happens to be from canada — with maybe a dash of homoeroticism? or at least just minimal heterosexuality? is that too tall an order?

[sailorsleepymoon]

. cw for health and weight talk

[listentoace]

My feeder bucket list (mild version):

Quadruple a feedee's weight, ~150lbs → ~600lbs

Force feeding over 20,000 calories before untying restraints

Funnel feed a gallon of heavy cream within a day

3 months of rapid and extreme weight gain; at least 100lbs gain

Jerking off on her face as she sits immobile on the floor and can't do anything about it

Getting actually ripped because of how much I need to hit the gym to be able to lift her belly

Spending an entire day with her at the Heart Attack Grill, hitting at least 35,000 calories

Public stuffing in clothes that barely fit her 50lbs ago

Not letting her cum until she gains 10lbs

Make her too fat for mobility scooters

No water, heavy cream only for a week

Getting her too fat for cars

Making her so fat that her weight can only be estimated as there is no way to actually move her onto a scale

Fucking a skinny girl in front of her while she is fully immobilized

Get her so fat she can't reach her belly button

Get her so fat she can't reach her nipples

Get her so fat her feet can't touch the floor anymore

Treat and fatten her like literal lifestock

Fully dehumanize & objectify her

Only letting her eat triple fried foods

Yes, that was the mild stuff ~

[beatrixstonehill2]

"Is my punishment almost over?" Emily asked her boyfriend, Joey.

"No, not yet, baby girl..... I think you need to learn your lesson a bit longer."

"But....! The tournament is in a month. How can I perform like this?"

"Not my problem.... You should've thought of that before being such a naughty girl, Emily."

Joey wasn't wrong, in a way..... Almost a year ago he started dating an Olympic silver medalist gymnast, who was known the whole world over for her skill and dexterity. Shortly after dating her, though, he was sent something damning by a random person online.... At the time, Emily was basically flat chested, yet had a cute butt and tended to give the cameras sensual, flirty looks, often blowing kisses and winking at the camera, sometimes bending over unnecessarily to give the people filming her something to zoom in on.....

Turns out when pervy guys reblogged these clips and admitted to masturbating to her performance, she would reply, happily encouraging them. On her official account, zero shame, her with the silver medal as her avatar. She'd tell these random men to 'milk their cocks good' and 'cum real hard for her tight little ass', like some porn star. Joey saw this and was very amused..... So, he decided Emily had to be punished--badly. He told her she had to obey him and take breast growth pills, to give the next national gymnastics tournament before the Summer Olympics a good show.

"I'm sorry, Joey..... you know I can't help myself. I love to flirt."

"Which just tells me how badly you need to be punished. Look at this one I found! Some random married guy posted that he wants to throw you in his van, hogtie you, and put 'a pile of kids in your pretty gut'. Did you block him....?"

She shook her head. "No....."

"Oh wait, you went on an extended RP session in the public comments about how he was going to abduct and rape you. Damn, you're one messed up girl."

"Messed up as a guy that makes his girlfriend grow a pair of boobs that weigh 50lbs each? Knowing she's a gymnast!"

"Nah, not as bad. But hey, think of all the hot interactions you'll have on Instagram now! You're gonna step out, not in your leotard, but a bikini, these gigantic udders spilling out. And you'll do your routine.... as well as you can. Think of how many guys are gonna jerk off to that."

"Fuck.... that's so hot." Emily bit her lip, fondling her pussy and breasts. "They're so heavy.... I look like an idiot with these things....."

"Well, you are an idiot. A horny, drooling idiot, too obsessed with fondling that swollen pussy of yours to care whether or not millions see you flirt with married men and RP getting knocked up by them."

"I'm.... it's just a little addiction, is all. I could try therapy...."

"Nah, I think you deserve to be nothing but walking jerk-off fodder. You're done being a real athlete. They'll just have you on because your oversized, goofy looking udders will make so many desperate, horny men tune in. And a whole bunch of normies to make fun of you."

"Fuck you.... you find these tits sexy..... You just came so hard inside me!"

"Well, I find them less sexy than I do the fact that I made you grow them. Understand?"

She nodded obediently. "Yes, master."

"Good girl, now, isn't it going to be fun watching you balance those giant tits and a belly full of my kids at the next tournament? Damn, by the time the Olympics roll around, those tits will weigh 100lbs each. Won't that be so fitting? I can't wait to see you even try to perform..... Then your career will be sitting on OnlyFans, immobilized by those cartoonish udders, masturbating all day like the drooling, horny idiot you really are deep down. You'll be flirting with your desperate, gross fans, all of your regular fans won't want anything to do with you as you sit there ten hours a days fondling yourself, surrounded by a pair of tits too big for you to carry on your own....."

"Fuck you...."

"Don't act like you don't agree. You aren't an athlete Emily, you aspire to be nothing but walking jerk-off material. So you might as well go for gold, isn't that right?"

Emily bit her lip, rubbing her heavy breasts. "Then I better go for 200lbs each...... be totally trapped by these things...."

"Now that's the perverted little idiot I love."

"I aim to please, Master. ❤️"

[bigoverstuffedteddybear]

Grandma’s House

Feedee POV / Force & Hand Feeding / Clothes Bursting

Staying at Grandma’s was always a risk, her portions always seemed way too much for the two or three people she usually cooked for. “It gives me practice for the holidays!” She would always exclaim when you told her she’d given you too much, even though you knew she never cooked at the family holidays. Either way, you didn’t have a choice now in what you ate, it was either stay at Grandma’s for free or face the climbing rents of the college accommodation. So Grandma’s it was, you just had to be careful of what you ate in case you ended up like your uncle who was the last of her kids to move out, he’d ended up as 450lbs and still managed to find a wife who’d helped him lose the weight.

You’ve been here for a month, college was going well and you’d made some friends too but you weren’t close enough yet to stay over to try and avoid your Grandma’s cooking. Not that it was bad but you always ended up eating everything on your plates and hers, much to your resistance and a lot to her insistence. Since your grandfather had passed, she seemed more insistent on making sure you were well fed, even if it meant going over your capacity. So far, it hadn’t had a major impact on your waistline, I mean, some of your clothes were starting to feel a bit tighter and started to ride a little bit up and down your body when you moved but it was manageable damage. You were going to start at the gym soon, trying to work off all the calories that had been packed into your meals.

***

A few months go by and things are still going well, you’d started at the gym which seemed to be going well, you weren’t losing any weight though. In fact, it was only increasing your appetite and quite substantially too, and Grandma loved seeing you actually begin to gorge yourself during dinner (eating your own massive portion and the three quarters of her dinner she never touches). Working out was beginning to get harder, despite all your best efforts to lose weight, it was still snaking its way onto your plumper figure. Your growing belly had started to make things harder when doing cardio, feeling your large body bounce and sag with every step, you were getting tired more quickly. You’d noticed not too long ago as you were trying to force yourself into a pair of jeans that had once been too baggy (you were supposed to exchange them for your actual size but couldn’t be bothered too), that these were the last pair of jeans you owned that could even accommodate your increasing size.

When you told your Grandma, she smiled and said you both could go to the store and get you some new clothes, you agreed tentatively and tried to ask her about trying to shrink your meal sizes because of how big its impact was on your body but she brushed you off with a pinch of your arm fat.

Getting dressed before your big shopping trip, you find yourself in front of your mirror surveying the damage of the months living with Grandma. It was no mistake that your thighs had gotten bigger, there had never been a gap between them but now that you were standing there, you saw that they now seemed to push themselves away from each other. Your belly too had grown tremendously, a big orb of fat clinging to your torso, its building quite the hang too with budding love handles that fold thickly on your sides. Unfortunately for you, the weight gain had found your face and gave you a cherub’s features, chubby chipmunk cheeks and a thick double chin had started forming around your once angular face. What would your parents think? They also knew the risks of staying with grandma but they thought you were grown enough to not cause too much damage to your once trim body. But they were wrong, now standing in front of the mirror, you’re clearly at least 100lbs heavier than when you came here.

***

You jump, you heave, you suck in. Nothing you do can get the jeans over the ass and belly of yours, they’re just to fat now and this was the last pair of jeans they had in stock. You feel your eyes stinging with tears, tentatively placing a hand on your flabby gut and give it a jiggle. Violently, you begin to shake every fat part of you body watching yourself jiggle in crescendo as you begin to sob.

Hearing the slapping of flat, your Grandma walks in and places her hands on yours. Her sweet eyes look at you with innocence, she chuckles slightly.

“Even when your uncle still lived at home, he didn’t give in that easily!! I never would’ve guessed you would be the grandchild who’d fatten up this much!!”

She laughs and gives your belly a gentle rub, something switches in your brain. How soft and gentle her hands are on your fat body, how soothing her words are— you feel yourself push your body more towards her, desperate for her silent approval of the changes in your body.

“Now now, those jeans aren’t going to be any good for someone who’s still growing!! You need something comfier— I know just what you need!!”

She smiles at you mischievously and hands you a set of sweatpants and a sweater with a tshirt too, matching of course. So that’s what you buy, only ten sets of sweats and a matching tshirt, uncertain why you’d need a matching top and bottoms. But they fit and they were flexible so they stretched nicely over your growing body and when you grew out of them, they still gave you a chance to get a new set before the seams ripped in the sweatpants.

Your weight continues to climb, your body becoming flabbier and more rounded but you don’t mind now. You and Grandma have an understanding with each other now, you take your classes online so you don’t have to waddle far and she gets to feed you incessantly and give you belly rubs to for when you get too full.

Your family was shocked to say the least when you ambled up the driveway a mere six months after you moved in with Grandma for college. They begged and pleaded you to go on a diet or back to the gym but with Grandma’s hand buried in your love handles, you knew with her support and insistence— you’d never be skinny again.

[thelesbianpoirot]

i don't really care about taylor swift one way or the other, but i love the fact the biggest celeb on earth rn is a woman who overwhelmingly dresses "comfortably" (outside of her dancing leotards you rarely if ever see her in something skin-tight or lowcut/etc, if you get me) and wears only "normal" makeup as opposed to drag queen makeup, etc. she's just a celeb to us, but to little girls growing up and seeing her that's GOT to have a mental impact. when i was growing up it was heroin chic kate moss super skinny, and it's never left me, the idea that i need to be under 100lb to have worth. i really hope all those millions of 8yo's looking at taylor singing her lil songs looking human have that imprinted on their psyche forever too.

I agree. I couldn't even pretend to give a fuck about Taylor, but the way people are obsessed with painting her like she's the devil, or that she is uniquely untalented has a lot to do with her image. For all the shaming they try to do with her dating life, she is pretty clean cut. They complain she is for basic white b*tches or say they hate her because of her carbon foot print, ignoring beyonce has sweatshops making her clothing for her fashion line or the impact of fenti. She is no different than any other wealthy celebrity. She's still very feminine, but in a closer to natural than the beauty standards of today. She's like 90s celebrity feminine, and she still has to diet, exercise, wear makeup, go to stylists, have micro procedures etc. I think it's one of the reasons people hate her. In a few ways she won't changed for them. She looks older, but generally the same as the day she entered the industry. This is quite the feat. I notice she is one of the few big named female popstars that gay men don't worship. Too many men say how much they hate her and how mediocre she is. And this is coming from men who worship Charlie XCX. And a large amount of libfem women hate her with a childish unfounded passion, while licking the boot of any untalented man or popstar sing explicitly about dick loving. Little girls and young women being obsessed with Taylor Swift isn't a problem, it's an improvement, just a few years ago they would be obsessed with a boyband, Justin Bieber or one direction. Swiftees aren't more unhinged or annoying than biebers, directioners or the beehive were/are.

However, I have to say, She isn't gay, people who think she is a closet lesbian are delusion on the level of flat earthers. That is my only beef with swifties.

It is hard to recover from the desire to be sickly skinny because it never really goes out of style. People are enamored with women looking like we're on the verge of dying, the only difference today is they want you to get a butt implant attached to your withering frame. People are going to the surgeon for hollowed out cheeks. Dickensian Orphan aesthetics pop back up every few years.

[meanpregcomm]

Too Much Baby

Combining IYP request 424-2. Imagine you go to a private high school (18 obv) and are struggling to fit into the uniform as your breasts and belly grow bigger and bigger and 432-13. fic request: a very petite young woman (under 5' tall, less than 100lbs) gets pregnant with her 7' tall, almost 500 lb, boyfriends child. He doesn't want kids so he dumps her. She ends up having to give birth in her mobile home. During the long, difficult, excruciating labor and birth, she finds out that not only is she having twins, but that they definitely inherited their fathers size. With the smaller twin being almost 15lbs and almost 2 ft long.

"Uh oh," Kady thought to herself. "This is not good."

It was two weeks into her junior year of high school, and the adorable white denim shorts she'd gotten for her eighteenth birthday two months ago were already digging into her stomach at the waist. She sighed, pinching her chub, and vowed to switch to the nasty egg-white Dunkin sandwiches until the winter formal.

She bounced down the hallway, glossy ponytail swinging, and shouted goodbye to her mom's closed bedroom door. Her boyfriend Leo's Audi had just pulled up in front of her mobile home and she knew he'd be annoyed if she didn't get outside before he started honking.

"Do I look fat?" she pouted appealingly at Leo once she'd hopped in. "You look great," he answered without looking at her, and rested a hand on her breast as he drove towards the school. "You gotta talk to the super about that driveway," he said, for about the millionth time.

"I know, honey, the gravel isn't good for the car," she cooed. "It's just that no one in my part of town has such a nice car, handsome."

He accepted the flattery and reached over to give her a peck. "You're gonna live somewhere so much better someday," he told her. "You may be a scholarship kid but you are smart and you have good taste. And, of course, you're dating me." The towering mound of sandy blonde hair and corn-fed muscles smiled charmingly at her. How had she gotten so lucky? She was one of the few kids on financial aid at Carbot High, but she had somehow snagged a varsity running back as a boyfriend.

Leo dropped her off and she ran in with the rest of the junior girls, trying to avoid the prying eyes of the middle aged teachers' aides as they changed out of their street clothes and into the polo shirt and kilt that made up their uniform. Her uniform was a little tight in the waist too. She thought about skipping lunch, but she had also been so ravenously hungry lately. Well, she could always alter her winter formal dress. The benefit of being poor and having to sew your own formal wear was that she could make it fit her like a glove.

A month later, fitting into a formal dress was the least of Kady's worries. She may still be able to fit into her yoga pants and band t-shirts at home, but her school uniform couldn't be let out anymore, there was just no fabric left. It was impossible for her to button it around her stubbornly growing belly. The school bell rang and Kady panicked. She needed to figure something out fast. She grabbed a safety pin from her emergency sewing kit and pinned the skirt as best she could before running to her first class.

After school she cleaned the worst of the beer cans out of her kitchen and popped a microwave pizza in the fridge. Her mom was at work for the evening and Kady had been so incredibly needy lately, she jumped at the chance to have her big hunk come over and fuck her. Leo, though he hated coming to the trailer park, wasn't going to turn down a chance to stick his dick in her, so he showed up practically on time. Looking down from his six foot frame to her tiny, 5'1" body, now sporting a noticeable bump in the stomach area, he gestured to the pizza cooling on the counter and made a comment about how that might not be the best option for her. Stung, but horny, she nodded agreeably and pulled him into her bedroom and into her pussy, squeezing him so hard with each thrust that he cried out in surprise. He came quickly and she put her mouth on him until he was hard again, and rode him greedily, drinking up every little drop of his cum.

When he left, she felt a little dead inside, but she calmed the voices that said something didn't feel right with her microwave pizza.

---

The safety pin worked for two weeks, until it really, really didn't. She was in English class when it gave out, popping its overloaded spring and ricocheting off her desk with a tiny metallic ping. Mortified, she raised her hand to go to the bathroom, pinching the two halves of her skirt together with one hand while smoothing it nervously with the other. Her teacher granted her request, but she could feel all eyes on her as she walked out of the room. Before she even had a moment to collect herself, a classmate popped her head in and told her to go right to the school nurse.

"Honey, you're pregnant." Kady felt ice cold fear drip down the back of her neck. the nurse's voice was kind, but firm. She had peed on a stick twenty minutes ago, but the look on the nurse's face when after seeing her belly clued her in far before the two pink lines.

"Do you know how far along you might be? Does the father know?"

The questions washed over Kady. She just wanted to go home. Pregnant? She couldn't have a baby. She didn't want to end up like her mom, trapped by a child she had no desire to care for. She nodded dumbly and took the pamphlets the nurse thrust in her hand. "Five months pregnant....prenatal care....WIC voucher....baby shower" it all felt far away, like it was happening to a different person. She called a taxi, took it home, and stared at the pamphlets in her hands until she was too tired to do anything but sleep.

In a badly needed stroke of luck, it was three days before winter break, and Kady's mom would hardly notice if her usually dedicated student daughter took a few days off "sick." So, Kady wandered through the next few weeks in a haze, trying to make sense of what was happening. She made up her mind that she wanted an abortion, and got up the courage to ask Leo for the money.

Getting him to come over wasn't hard, but his eyes narrowed angrily when they saw her. Now that she wasn't trying to hide how fat she was getting, her pregnant belly was enormously obvious on her tiny frame. He was immediately angry, and although in the end he agreed to give her the money, it was over between them. She had been stupid, he'd said. And his football career was just beginning--didn't she see how selfish it was of her to get his baby in her? She was devastated, but on some level she wasn't surprised. At least she had the money she needed.

Unfortunately, showing up at the abortion clinic with a belly the size of a basketball meant that Kady was rejected at the front desk before even seeing a provider. Despite her protests that she had been a virgin five months ago, she had to admit that the sheer size of her pregnant middle made her look like a liar. She tried again at the other clinic, over two hours away, pushing the limits of her mom's unreliable Chevy, but she got the same response.

"You're having that baby, little girl," this receptionist had sneered at her. "Maybe next time you should give your boyfriend a blow job."

Tears stung Kady's face, and she cried the entire two hour drive home. School started again in two days. She had been so confident that she would have a skinny belly again by the end of this weekend. What was she going to do?

The answer, it seemed, was go to school and endure the shocked stares of her classmates, the pitying looks of the teachers who had hoped the girl from the trailer park would make it out, and the disgusted silence from the father of her baby, who made sure she knew that she owed him the abortion money back, and that if she tried to claim him as the father he would deny her.

She knew those were the greater ills, but for some reason the thing that seemed the most unfair was how completely awful her school uniform fit her very pregnant body. Even through her bra, the scratchy polo material irritated her sensitive nipples, and she now had to secure her kilt over her belly, making the skirt lift up awkwardly in front. She didn't dare ask for a new uniform--she was afraid every day that they would finally kick her out and she would have to stay home and explain to her mother that she and Leo had snuck around, been stupid, and made a very, very big baby.

Unfortunately for Kady, trying not to make waves didn't work very well. By six months pregnant she couldn't see her feet, constantly knocked supplies off her desk with her ungainly belly, and couldn't sit without spreading her legs. But it was exactly six months and ten days after the first time she had ever had sex with Leo that she got stuck in her desk chair and was just too pregnant to get out on her own.

Once the janitors had unscrewed the bolts holding it together and she had stood up, rubbing the painful grooves the furniture had made in her fertile mound, the guidance counselor pulled her into his office and told her that her scholarship had been withdrawn.

"You can try again next year Kady," he said, smiling condescendingly, "after you've had your baby. Or maybe a less challenging school might be a better fit for someone in your..." his eyes rested obviously on her swollen middle "...condition?"

----

She couldn't be sure, having been too ashamed to get any prenatal care, but the intermittent pangs she'd been having for two days were starting to get closer together. Plus, she was absolutely enormous. It was hard to imagine getting any bigger. She had had to move temporarily into her mother's bedroom. Her pregnant stomach dwarfed her body so completely that she had difficulty walking, and spent most of her days watching tv, crying, and moaning. It was nearly a full time job, lately, trying to soothe the angry, itchy, stretched and bloated orb of the belly she had created when she had bounced up and down on her giant ex-boyfriend's cock. Her breasts, swollen and painful to the touch, rested on top of her gravid mountain of a stomach, and she was too pregnant to sit up straight.

"I absolutely have to be close to giving birth now," she thought, "and as terrified as I am of birth, there is nothing I wouldn't do to get this fucking baby out of me."

As if on cue, her labor pains started in earnest. These were so much more intense than the lead-up cramps, but they still weren't coming very often. She called 911, and yelled to her mother that she needed ice chips. When her mother didn't answer after twenty minutes, she painstakingly waddled into the living room to see why. The empty bottle of vodka and her mother's groggy form in the recliner answered that question. Tears welled up in her as a contraction doubled her over.

Monstrously pregnant, mother passed out, baby's father gone forever, she didn't know how she could do this. When the EMTs arrived, even they couldn't hide their shock at her size. At first they tried to move her, but she was too big to fit on the stretcher. While they were trying, she felt a sudden intense urge to push and felt the baby descend into her birth canal. The EMTs quickly realized it was too late to move her, and one got a portable sonogram machine while the other ran to the ambulance for more supplies.

"Okay, let's have a look at the baby," a calm female EMT told Katy as she moved over Katy's contracting belly. "Oh," she said suddenly in a quick inhale of breath, "there's two in there. Congrats little mama, you're having twins!"

[scoops-aboy86]

♠️♥️Famous Rockstar Eddie leaving the spotlight mysteriously and going off the radar for the next 10 years. Unbeknownst to the world, it was because he broke up with his then secret boyfriend Steve Harrington. Steve wanted to settle down, Eddie wanted to play for the world. The love never left but they both had dreams they wanted to pursue. Then very randomly he's spotted by paparazzi with a cute hubby, a wedding band on his finger, and 100lbs more than he had 10 years ago, enjoying brunch like he wasn't quote unquote "missing" to the public. 😂

Aww. I’m picturing a mostly amiable breakup… They’re both bummed to do it, but Eddie wants to leave and Steve wants to stay. It’s the 80’s, so no cell phones, no email… Much harder to keep up a long distance relationship. Both of them feel like they’re setting the other free. 

~

Cut to ten years later. Corroded Coffin made it big, and they’re coming up on the end of a tour that they’ve already said will be their last public appearance in a while. Gareth has a fiancé he wants to settle down with, Jeff is already married with a kid on the way, and Freak is thinking about going back to school for… something, he hasn’t decided what yet. 

Eddie is toying with the idea of doing a solo album or something, nothing big, but music is his life. It’s basically what he replaced Steve with after the breakup. He’s maybe leaned into food a little, especially during tours, but mostly burns it off with his on-stage antics. Over the years, he’s stuck pretty exclusively to hookups and situationships, nothing serious. As long as he has his music, everything’s fine. 

Which is why he’s dreading the end of the tour. After the second to last concert, right after they get to the next city, he does something he doesn’t usually do: he goes out and gets fucked up. (He saw what drugs and alcohol did to his parents when he was little and things were starting to fall apart, and No Thank You, but. It’s not bad if he only does it once, right? It’s fine.) 

The city happens to be Chicago. Eddie goes out, accepting just about anything anyone hands him like a moron… and wakes up having blacked out on everything except the vague impression of pop music blasted too loud for even his concert-hardened ears. The bed he’s in is comfortable in a very not-hotel-room sort of way and smells like the essence of a warm hug. He burrows into the blankets and pillows on the principle that maybe if he snuggles in deep enough he can hide from the raging hangover. 

It doesn’t work, of course, and a few minutes later he drags himself across the room on all fours to hurl his guts out into a waste basket. Which turns out not to have a liner. Oops. 

That’s when the door opens, and a mildly exasperated voice says, “Eds, seriously? I left you a bucket on your side of the bed.”

Blearily, Eddie turns and sees, of all people, Steve Harrington. Standing there in a yellow sweater and both hands on his hips like a blast from the goddamn past. He’s still handsome, still has the amazing hair, and the glasses he’s wearing lend a new kind of adult-ness to his face that hadn’t been there when he was twenty. He looks good. 

Eddie, meanwhile, feels like a stepped-on cockroach. It’s not fair. 

“Woke up facing this way,” Eddie rasps, but his heart leaps at the way Steve says your side. Like it’s still his. And it’s true, he does still prefer the left side of the bed, despite usually sleeping alone. “How are you… here? Where am I?”

Steve brings him a glass of water. “This is my apartment, I’ve been here for about three years now. I brought you here last night after you propositioned me because, and I quote, ‘You look just like the love of my fucking life that I walked away from like the dumbest idiot alive, wanna fuck and maybe marry me if my dick’s good enough? I’m kind of rich and famous, I could write so many songs about your eyes.’”

“Jesus H. Christ.” Eddie takes a sip of water, feeling like he might throw up again from embarrassment. “Did we…?”

“Nah, you passed out practically before finishing that second sentence. I carried you here to sleep it off, and answered your cell when Jeff called to check on you.” Steve, helping Eddie stand up at this point and guiding him back to the bed, raises an eyebrow. “He was extremely thorough in explaining that you don’t usually do things like this.”

Eddie groans. “Fuck… Is he sending a car or something? We’ve got a concert in… in… soon.”

“Two days,” Steve fills in easily. “Don’t worry, you have time to recover. I’ve made breakfast, if you think you can stomach it.”

Groaning again, Eddie face-plants into the pillows and realizes that wonderful scent is Steve and that’s why it was so nice when he first woke up. That smell still means home to him, even after a decade apart. “No, can’t do cereal and pop tarts right now.”

Steve snorts. “Excuse you, but one of us has learned to cook over the years and Jeff assured me it wasn’t you. There’s bacon, eggs, pancakes, and fresh strawberries. Vanilla ice cream in the freezer, too, if that still helps settle your stomach.”

“…It might,” Eddie mutters into the pillow. 

“Okay. Well, whenever you’re ready, there’s clothes at the end of the bed, and Advil and more water on the desk. I’m just going to, uh, take this basket out to the dumpster.”

Sorry, Eddie bites on his tongue to avoid saying. He’s just now realizing that he’s stripped down to his boxers and undershirt, which, like. Doesn’t even show off the coolest of his new tattoos. Not that that’s important, fuck, but it’s the first thing his hungover brain spits out about the whole situation other than, you know. 

The fact that he randomly ran into The Ex of All Time while so loaded he doesn’t even remember it happening. And Steve is acting like this is just normal even though they haven’t even been in contact for years. 

Eddie falls asleep while freaking out about this, and feels marginally more human by the time he wakes up. The clothes Steve left him are… Christ, it’s one of his old Metallica shirts, and the sweatpants that were technically Steve’s that Eddie had always stolen to sleep in, back when they were together. He doesn’t know how to feel about it. Stumbles his way out of the room to a bathroom, noticing along the way that the couch has a pile of folded blankets at one end. Because Steve probably slept there instead of his own bed. 

“Coffee?” Steve asks when Eddie finally puts in an appearance in the kitchen, passing him a mug that’s already doctored exactly the way he likes it. Eddie takes it and sips cautiously, but his stomach seems to have settled now and nothing bad happens, so he takes a longer, grateful gulp. 

The food is still waiting for him, kept warm in the oven with tin foil over the plates and heat set to low. Eddie sits down and feels something well up in his chest, in his eyes, at the first bite of scrambled eggs; it’s like eating clouds, they’re so damn fluffy. 

“‘S good,” he mumbles through a full mouth, then swallows and turns his tired eyes towards Steve. “I… I didn’t even know you’d moved to Chicago.”

Steve gives him an amused smile. “It wasn’t exactly news worthy of Rolling Stone, dude. Don’t worry about it.”

“Kinda have to,” Eddie mumbles, and jams bacon in his mouth. “I mean, I—Holy fuck, Steve, this is good. Are you a chef or something?”

The smile turns sheepish. “Sort of. It’s a long story, but I kinda teach cooking classes now? It’s a program for teens and preteens who’ve had trouble at home or with the law and need, like, better outlets that are also practical life skills. Robin’s girlfriend hooked me up, she teaches yoga and self-defense stuff at the same place.”

“Wow.” Eddie stares blankly at him for a second, before physically shaking off the surprise and looking back down at his plate. Steve had spent the past decade learning new skills and helping kids, whereas Eddie has written songs about sex, drugs, rock and roll, and… Steve’s eyes. “That’s great, Steve. You sound really happy.”

Because he does. And Eddie feels really, really bad about barreling accidentally back into Steve’s life, probably throwing a huge monkey wrench into it since there’s no way a guy this handsome and this good and this fantastic in the kitchen isn’t seeing anyone. He’d be snatched up in a second by any discerning man or woman with, like, eyes and a heart and taste buds. Which is what Steve deserves, really. He deserves someone who won’t run off at the first whiff of potential fame and fortune somewhere he can’t follow. 

“I do alright,” Steve replies modestly. 

“I’ll replace your waste basket,” Eddie blurts out. Because Steve deserves someone who doesn’t ever get fucked up enough to puke in and ruin his stuff, even if it’s not something he does regularly. “And, this is great, really, thank you for breakfast, but I should get out of your hair. I’m… sorry for ambushing you last night, or whatever it was I did, I can’t even remember—”

His hand is clenched around his fork so tight that his knuckles have gone pale, and he almost jolts out of his chair when Steve puts a hand over it, massaging his grip into loosening slightly. “First of all, I got that thing at Costco,” Steve informs him. “It’s not a big deal. Second, you didn’t ambush me. I mean, I was surprised, for sure, but… it was nice to hear that I’m still the love of your life.” Steve gives his hand a gentle squeeze. “Really nice, Eds. And third, you didn’t exactly walk away. You asked me to come with you, I was the one who wasn’t ready to leave Hawkins then. We agreed, remember?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. He feels like careening back into Steve’s orbit now must count as some sort of violation of that agreement, or something… and yet Steve is still holding his hand. 

“I actually…” Steve hesitates, looking unexpectedly shy for someone who Eddie must be bothering. Then, instead of finishing the sentence, he lets go of Eddie’s hand to pull something from his back pocket and lay it on the table.

It’s a ticket. A VIP meet and greet pass for the Corroded Coffin concert in two days. 

“Everybody pitched in and got this for my birthday,” he says sheepishly. “They went on presale on the exact day, Dustin kept saying it was a sign.”

Eddie, who’s never paid much attention to ticket sales in general, much less the dates they become available, can only stare at it. His throat feels tight knowing that he would’ve seen Steve anyway, that it could’ve happened while he was riding the adrenaline high of performing instead of feeling like roadkill freshly scraped off the asphalt. 

“Which, if it was a sign, I’m guessing it wasn’t on purpose, since you didn’t even know I live out here now,” Steve continues. “But, well, they got it, and… I told Robin I wasn’t sure if I’d go, but I knew from the second I opened the envelope it was a done deal.”

“What about… A-aren’t you seeing anyone?” Eddie asks. He remembers, in wistful, rosy detail, Steve being in his element as a boyfriend. Knows that he loves having someone to share everything with, to learn through and through, to kiss and murmur I missed you even if it’s only been an hour, even when it wasn’t safe for two guys to do that openly in small town Indiana and he’d had to limit himself to a fleeting touch and saying it with his eyes. 

“No.” Steve shrugs. “I tried putting myself out there on and off, but there was never enough of a spark to make it past three or four dates. I always knew you were it for me, Eddie, even if we never got another chance. And this…” He taps the concert ticket. “I was going to ask if you wanted one, because god knows I’d give it to you. You don’t have to answer now, because going by how you look you must feel like crap—”

“Oh fuck you, dude.” Never one to sit stoically through Steve’s teasing, Eddie groans and hides a grudging you’ve got me there smile behind a handful of his own hair. 

Steve grins. “Sorry,” he says, not sounding or looking sorry at all. 

Which is where they leave it, for now. Eddie finishes his breakfast, clearing his plate and dishing up seconds because once he starts eating in earnest his stomach settles and he’s starving, and it’s all so good. And it’s not like they’re magically back together—Steve had slept on the couch instead of in the bed with him, they haven’t been close enough to share so much as a meal and conversation like this for ten years, but it’s a start. A chance to get to know each other again, see if they still fit. 

~

Fast forward another ten years. Eddie’s solo career is doing well but he doesn’t do public appearances, got all of his recording done at home in his private studio. He’s pretty much a homebody, which surprised some of the people who know him but not the ones that know him well. 

Steve still has the same job, not because he needs to work but because he loves it. He’s also Eddie’s de facto private chef, and he loves that too. 

But he’s not cooking today, because it’s their anniversary and Eddie is dead set on painting the town red. “Of course I still want to,” Eddie assures him again, nuzzling sleepily up against his unofficial husband (they’re holding out until it becomes legal in either Illinois or Indiana, whichever comes first) when Steve wakes him and asks if he’s still sure about their brunch reservations. “I want to take you out and show you off. Remember how I promised you how rich and famous I am and how cool that would be?”

Steve huffs in amusement, leaning into the nuzzling. “First of all, it was more of a statement than a promise. The actual promise was to write so many songs about my eyes. Second of all, you don’t remember that.”

“Kept the promise either way, didn’t I?” Eddie nips at his collarbone, bare because Steve never was one for sleeping with a shirt on, even when the weather turns cold. “I’ve written songs about your eyes, your smile, this ass…” He grabs at it with a little growl, leaning more of his weight onto Steve to reach and enjoying the way his sweetheart happily squirms. 

“Mmm, yeah,” Steve sighs. “But we could still stay in… have breakfast in bed…” His own hands find Eddie’s love handles and settle there. “Not have to get dressed.”

“Nope.” Eddie props himself up on one thick arm and kisses him on the nose. Then yawns hugely. “It’s about time I get some fresh air, and I’m taking you out, baby.”

So Steve crawls out of bed, fetching Eddie the clothes he asks for and gamely taking suggestions for his own outfit—though he anticipates every article with a smirk, starting to grab each hanger before the words are fully past Eddie’s lips. Jeans that are just a little on the tight side and highlight the ass that Eddie so loves to grab (and sing about grabbing, the horny lovesick goblin man), a t-shirt that shows off his muscles and broad shoulders (because he may be turning forty next month but he takes damn fine care of his body), and the leather jacket from Eddie’s Corroded Coffin days that no longer fit their original owner. 

Because Eddie, who loves Steve’s food, has put on at least a hundred pounds in the past decade,maybe more. Most of it has gone to his belly, but he’s pretty round and soft all over—except his ass, for some reason, which is his excuse for how much attention he regularly bestows on Steve’s. 

That’s not why he’s stayed out of the public eye for so long though. It’s more because he got his fill of being a rock star, being recognized everywhere he goes, being photographed all the time and known for his wild antics. He’d wanted that when he was younger, so badly, needed the accolades and acknowledgement as someone who hadn’t gotten a lot of that as a child. But that rock star life took him away from Steve for so long, which he both regrets and doesn’t because it all worked out in the end. He’d been in it just as much for being able to make and share his music, too, which he can still do, so he’s happy. Happy and so, so in love. 

Their day is back to back reservations at various restaurants, all selected by Eddie because of dishes he knows that Steve will want to try and recreate at home. “Inspiration for your craft,” Eddie tells him with a wink, his own cheeks pink and grin lazy with the pleasure of overindulgence. 

Pictures are taken, more by cell phones than paparazzi because it’s the 2000’s now (not long before the Supreme Court of California issues a finding that allows that state to start issuing same-sex marriage licenses out on the West Coast, and Steve and Eddie fly out for Robin’s backyard wedding). They circulate the internet, with thousands of people weighing in on whether that really is Eddie Munson, the “missing” front man from Corroded Coffin. There are comparisons between old photos and these new ones, in depth analyses that range from “he wouldn’t get that fat” to “wow he really let himself go” to “looks like he’s living his best life.”

Eddie and his sweetheart—who is a total unknown except to some of the kids at the program who see the pictures and flip out because since when is Mr. Harrington so close with a famous metal guitarist omg, he’s so lame with all his sweater vests and dad jokes—remain unaware and unbothered as Steve helps Eddie tuck his already full belly back into his pants, get him all zipped up again, and leave brunch for their next stop. 

And they have a very lovely day.

Permanent tag list (ask to be added): @hotluncheddie @tangerinesteve @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax

[thegloomybat]

TW 3D INTRO TO MYSELF HEYY

Hey guys :3 this app is my library lol but i wanna start posting too bc i could really use some tips & advice for d13t1ng and wl. To give some background info, i’ve had b0dy dysmorphia for like, 7 years at this point. I never really did anything about it except h4te myself. Until about 2 years ago, i bought wl p1lls online, i took them for aboht a month along with heavy exercise. I lost a lot of w31ght in that time, but unfortunately i was dumb and told my mom about it bc i lowkey felt like i was dying😭. And from there on i was always being monitored. Mostly. I had really bad 6u1imia, like i would 🤮 3+ times a day, everyday, the entirity of last year. I had a lot of w31ght fluctuations tho, but for the most part i was sk1nny, my lowest was 100lb. I was doing so good until i switched doctors and as soon as he weighed me he put me on wg medications and i didnt know :( so all my progress was just gone. I gained an embarrassing amount of weight… i was in the 130’s almost 140’s lb. EW it nakes me feel GROSS just thjnking about it. My height is 5’6. But earlier this year i started 🤮 again, got down to 115, but then i stopped and started going up again :( i went up again to around 130, disgusting. Now for the past few months i’ve been STUCK in the 123-126 range. Idk why i let myself be so gross and ugly i let myself go sometimes and ate too much, like 1k cals. I usually try to stay equal to or less than 800, but it’s not even doing anything anymore. I haven’t been l0s1ng. I’m just SO tired of hating myself and being so ugly and f4t and stupid, i want to be 100 again or lower :( but i’m really happy bc i’ve lost 4 lb recently, i w31gh3d myself this morning i was 119! FINALLY going down. I’ve been 34ting 700ish cals, i’ll have a bigger meal in the morning (around 11am-12pm) and i won’t have anything until around 8-9pm. I’m gonna make a seperate post because i really need advice or tips on a specific situation. But yeah, i’m happy i’ve gone down to 119, i’m finally making progress🥹but i need to keep going, pls help me out with anything!! But i’ll update :3 sorry for typing so much i talk way too muchhh😭

[katvalentinesblog]

Ok so tomorrow I’m starting intermittent fasting again. I did it a couple weeks ago for a full week and I lost 6 lbs and I was stuffing my hog face full every eating window. This time I’m going to do one meal. A healthy choice meal from Savemart that has 280 calories. Maybe I’ll add a salad too or something easy to track to get my calories up to 500. I have literally 100 lbs to lose so I’m not gonna starve or anything. Actually I need to starve. The stress being overweight puts on the heart is horrifying to me since heart disease runs in my family and also I’m old and disgusting lol. It’s ok because I plan on getting facial feminization surgery so that will take care of any sagging or wrinkles (which I actually don’t have I’m so surprised. Probably the fat stretching it all out). I also got 2 2liters of Diet Pepsi on sale so I can sip on that and water during the day. My goal weight is 170 (I’m 6’5”) but I would like to take it down to 150lbs but like I kinda want to keep what little boob growth I do have. Last time I lost 100lbs I was eating 3 small meals a day no snacks no eating after 7pm and I lost a steady 5lbs a week. I was also 20 years old then. The main thing that worked though was that I wanted to be skinny more than anything!!!! The number on the scale was so exciting because it went down every week I weighed in. It was better than any drug. When I got the weight off I remember wearing clothes was a complete pleasure. I could wear anything and it would look good. Not only that but it was so comfortable. I’m so determined this time. I have to do this. One more chance to be hot before I become an elderly woman. Not that being elderly is bad because they have tons of fun too!! But I want to taste the last chance at hotness and fun just one more time.

[paddlescuddlesbubblesgurgles]

I seem to remember you mentioning that you had a max weight where you wanted your gain to plateau, around 650 afaik? Now that you're "too fat" but clearly too addicted to stuffing yourself to stop, have you reassessed that goal or are you still aiming for that size? Because either way I don't think you're *capable* of stopping yourself anymore.

I would say it is reliant on circumstances. In that post I also mentioned it comes down to my life partner (whoever that ends up being at the time). I could imagine getting much fatter than this with the right star to brighten my midnight sky. For now my current weight is pretty close to my limits. I will admit my original limit was fitting into 3XLs which was like…100lbs ago lol. Then my limit was 450lbs, but I’m here and eating more calories than I thought possible. I would say with the right person, I’d gain to the edge of mobility perhaps, whatever that weight is. I still need to be able to follow her around, even if I’m barely, slowly, wobbly waddling behind her.

[m1stym0on]

doing all the days at once, below the cut *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

1. 5’7 , cw 111 , lw 94 , hw 180

2. sometimes i wish i was shorter but i do kinda like my height a lot too

3. i’ll make a separate post w my fav th1nsp0 atm

4. i’m not sure i have any ‘greatest fears’ about weightloss, i do get kind of scared that i’ll have to be hospitalised one day though just because of what my family would think

5. i want to lose weight because i always feel like i have to, i feel better about myself when i’m losing. it’s not about looks.

6. i do binge A LOT, my binges used to be between 4-8k cals but i’ve managed to bring them down to always under 4k. i binge when i feel ‘out of control’ wether that’s through emotions or because i overate my c@ls slightly. i hate it smmmmm

7. my parents can tell when i’m not eating, but i live alone so all they can do is buy me food.

8. i don’t ever workout really, i never have any energy. BUT i do try to get in 5k steps and 100 sit ups everyday :)

9. i was pretty chunky growing up so i did used to get a few comments, none were meant as insults though. since being skinny i just get positive comments about my weight and body

10. the hardest thing to give up is takeaways and going out drinking, the c@ls are just way too uncountable for me and i could work around it but it makes me SO ANXIOUS

11. n/a

12. i really love oatmeal, and yoghurt w granola and berries. i typically eat breakfast or protein bars or chocolate as well

13. i’m on 3dblr what do you think

14. my ugw is either 95/100lbs or whenever i decide i’m sick enough to recover (never)

15. i’m not either but i do sometimes like vegan/vegetarian alternatives to dairy or meat and i would definitely consider going vegetarian or vegan for a short amount of time - like maybe a few months?

16. i first decided to lose weight in december 2020, i was around 180lbs and immediately started a 1200cal diet that never ended

17. i’m not sure if i have an ed, if i do it’s probably ednos because i kind of have symptoms of a few different diagnoses

18. biscuits and cookies always get me man nothing else makes me lose control like that. gimme a pack of marylands and it’s over.

19. i ate fast food a few weeks ago, i don’t cut out ‘bad foods’ i just incorporate them into my c@ls

20. i don’t have any fav diet but i do love @honeysugarfree and all their posts <3

21. i’m a uk 6 or xs in tops and a uk 8 / s in bottoms :)

22. my lowest weight was i think 94, not sure because i stopped caring about the sc@le. i only gained because my auntie saw me at christmas for the first time in a while and then contacted my family about my ‘worrying appearance’. my dad ended up taking me to the doctors and i was put on a m3al plan, so forced r3c0very

23. no it’s not about the media, l0sing weight for me is all about how it feels on my body and comparing myself to people in real life, or that’s how it started anyways

24. i know the original terms meant community and pro acceptance but since now they have such stigma i’m not sure how i feel about them

25. i do struggle with p.rg1ng a few times a week but i’m trying to stop. i don’t actually remember the first real time but i do remember my ex bf teaching me how to thr0w up when i felt sick from drinking ??

26. i just want to feel valid in my eating problems, so i guess that’s what i want out of my ugw this time. but i’m also of course excited to feel fragile, delicate emo girl fr

27. i usually just have to distract myself if i’m around food like with gum or remind myself about my goals over and over in my head, i do find it pretty hard to be honest

28. i do really really want that th1gh g4p but i am kinda nervy about my short shorts and mini skirt not looking slut / tight anymore when i go out (dumb maybe)

29. honestly my definition of beauty is femininity

30. 10 facts! i do fine art at uni, i’m 19, i live alone, i have 2 little kitty cats, my fav colour is bluey purple. my fav flowers are chrysanthemums, peonies, hydrangeas. fav foods are fish and chips, pasta, COOKIES and biscuits, ramen (all so h1gh c4l i could die). alr that’s enough facts i can’t think of anymore my brain’s fried to pieces

okayy i just wanted to answer all these at once because i was bored, ily if u read it all ♥

[tulsas-tears]

About me

My name is Tulsa, I use she/her pronouns and I'm 19. I'm also an INFJ and a lesbian, and I'm taken by a very pretty, very skinny girl.

A bit of background:

My eating issues started a couple years ago (I think it had to do with the antidepressants I was on), and when I stopped my meds I gained weight and all of a sudden hated myself. It took me almost a year to start actually losing the weight back, which only worked since I started a med that made me lose my appetite for long enough to not eat, realize I looked and felt so much better, and keep going. I'm an open book, so feel free to ask anything about this you'd like.

Stats:

Hw: 124lbs

Lw: 101lbs

Sw: 112lbs

Cw: 113bs

Gw: 100lbs

Ugw: 95lbs

The blog:

I'm gonna use this blog as a food diary so I can hold myself accountable with what I'm eating, since a lot of my problem is eating too much in secret. (I figure if I at least post this stuff on a public account, it might make me think twice.) I'll post pics of meals on occasion probably, calorie counts, maybe rants. My goal is to be skinny but healthy at the same time, so I try to stay under 1000 cals daily, but push it up to 1200 if I have to.

I'm an animal lover, so generally speaking I try to eat vegan/vegetarian when I get to choose my own food. I'm not attached to either label though so I kinda do whatever is most practical in the moment.

Tagging system:

All of the posts I create will probably be tagged as one of four things: #food diary, #food for thought, #rant, and #random (as well as all four being tagged as #mine). They're for me tracking my food; notes I have about how to eat and what to do better; rants about whatever related to eating and body image and stuff; and then random thoughts I have that don't really fit into either of three main categories.

My September plan is tagged under #September plan and details my "rules" to keep things under control.

That's all for now <3

[258punkweight]

hey if you’re only 100lbs and your legs are hurting you might need to eat more (fats, carbs, but especially protein) and take walks if you can. i got patellofemoral syndrome a few years ago cuz i was underweight and too sedentary, and the only cure was to build up some muscle so i could walk again. i’m fully recovered now but it took years and was pretty tough. please disregard this unsolicited advice if it doesn’t apply to your situation, it’s just something that made my life a lot harder so i don’t want it to happen to anyone else cuz it’s so preventable. take care of yourself.

technically i'm a bit above that cause i don't really pay attention to what i eat lol. i'd say i'm more like 105 or so. who knows

eating more isn't really an option for me. we got frozen microwave crap and some snacks and that's pretty much it. i'll get fast food a couple times a week when my grandma comes. not much i can do about this

i did take a walk around my block once... but i gotta ask my mom for permission. i worry she'll be mad at me if i left the house without asking while home alone. even then, it's fucking hot in socal, my lungs are trash, etc

i'm just in pain a lot, it's been happening for a long ass time, even before i lost weight. we'll get it checked out eventually okay

[welcometowritersblock]

Reluctant Morals

This is a story about a DnD character from one of my friend’s games! Lyra is my PC! I adore Lyra, and I hope you also enjoy my little ball of anxiety and trauma.

Lyra stood stock still for a moment. No one had seen her yet, no one saw her turn the corner and watch as they yelled at Ilyam. Something about debt, something about payment, something about Lucia. Lyra began to slide back, turning to go around the corner, when one of the thugs grabbed Ilyam by the collar and began to hoist him to the air.

Lucia had told Lyra that she had a ‘special’ and ‘complicated’ relationship with her twin brother. Lyra could only imagine what that might have meant.

What kind of sibling relationship involved knowingly letting your brother be attacked? What kind of relationship allowed you to let your brother be hurt because of you? To use it to your advantage?

Maybe Lyra shouldn’t get involved, a voice in the back of her head said. Her anxiety felt physical, grabbing at her wrist, trying to drag her back away, as if she had never seen this.

Sometimes Lyra hated her sense of justice, her desire to protect, all the things that always pulled her in to this kind of situation. The loud kind, the difficult kind, the violent kind.

But that sense of justice pressed her forward harder than her anxiety pulled her back.

She quickly ran forward, stepping between Ilyam and the thug before he really got a hold of Ilyam. Everyone involved seemed surprised by this extra presence.

“Hey. Quit it. Leave him alone.” The words were soft and nervous, just like the majority of her was.

“Lyra-“ Ilyam began to say. She didn’t know if he was going to tell her to mind her own business or that this didn’t involve her or what, but the thug beat him to it.

“Get out of here, kid. This doesn’t involve you.”

“No. I’m not leaving. And I’m not a child.” Her voice was slightly louder but she could hear a couple of the thugs snicker at the shaking that she couldn’t force out of her voice, or the way she still avoided eye contact.

“You really don’t want to get involved in this. It doesn’t concern you. It’s not like we’re going to hurt him.” Lyra scowled at that one. She’d seen the bruise on Ilyam’s face not too long ago. “He just owes us something-“

“I said I wasn’t leaving, so you better involve me with this. Why are you bothering him, anyways? Isn’t his sister the one who owes you money?”

“Lyra-“ Ilyam tried to speak again, but the thug was too focused on this small girl trying to pick a fight with him.

“Lucia’s got to pay, one way or another.”

“He’s not Lucia! He’s her twin but he’s not her and you’re not accomplishing anything!”

“Lyra-“ Ilyam tried once again, grabbing her shoulders, trying to move her out from between him and the other thug, but Lyra only dug her heels in.

“The girl wants to be involved so badly? Fine. We can involve her.”

Before either Lyra or Ilyam could say anything else, Lyra wasn’t surprised but also wasn’t entirely prepared to be essentially slapped. She stumbled back, Ilyam managing to grab her and keep her from falling. It stung and might leave a bruise, but Lyra grit her teeth. She was still trembling, but she righted herself, exhaling heavily.

“We are not playing around, kid, get lost-“

“Last chance to back off,” Lyra interrupted. The threat threw everyone off guard. This girl was 5’1”, 100lbs when wet, she was still shaking and her voice did not sound intimidating at all.

“…I feel like I’m being intimidated by a cupcake. Don’t you know what’s good for you? Get lost, I will hit you again, I don’t care if you’re a girl or a child-“

The thing that was more surprising than the insult was the follow through.

A red energy formed in her palm - some kind of spell caster? But in an instant, it formed into a perfect shortsword in her hand. The speed and precision at which she swung it was unexpected. It was a glancing blow, but Ilyam, standing right behind her, could see that that was on purpose. It cut the man’s shirt, breaking skin and making him bleed but not much else.

But the surprise of a young girl summoning a blood red energy sword from seemingly nowhere was what she was looking for, not to actually cause damage.

The thug was reeling and Lyra grabbed Ilyam’s hand, dragging him behind her as she fled the alleyway. The few seconds head start was all they needed to find a different alleyway to duck into, some boxes to hide behind. Lyra held her breath and stayed silent, finally sighing when the footsteps were completely gone.

She finally turned to Ilyam who was absolutely staring at her, causing pink to color her cheeks.

“Lyra, what on earth was that?”

“I… w-which part?”

“All of it.”

“Well, I… they were going to hurt you. I couldn’t just let them hurt you. I thought about getting Cipher or something but I couldn’t just. Leave.”

“What about the sword?”

“Energy sword.”

“You didn’t even have to use any components or anything to summon it, what was-“

“Let’s not talk about the sword.”

“But-“ Ilyam began to argue, his curiosity piqued.

“Please?”

He sighed but relented immediately.

It was about this moment they both realized they were still holding hands. Her pink cheeks turned redder and he began to blush himself as they pulled away.

“W-well, I probably could’ve handled it myself but… thank you for helping me Lyra.”

“…of course. I’m glad I was able to. Should we go, um, report this to someone?”

“P-probably, yeah.”

“Please don’t mention the sword when we do.”

“I won’t mention it, but you know the thugs will when they’re talked to.”

“I know…” she said with a small pout as they began heading towards the governmental offices. “…I’ll figure it out.”