she/her, queer, 37. welcome to my weight gain and belly kink blog. send me steddie asks, i'll write things! (eventually, i'm not always the fastest so i've got a backlog)
This is basically a fandom wg kink blog. Posts along those lines will be tagged #wg steddie (or "wg [pairing]" in general) so that, in the spirit of "don't like don't read," it's just as easy to block as it is to follow.
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I do have a permanent tag list for when I post fic. If you would like to be added to that (or a tag list for a specific ongoing story), let me know in a comment, hashtag, or message.
Make Me Write:
I take prompts! My ask box is open in general, though I... am not necessarily a fast writer and also work 40 hours a week, so it may take me anywhere from five business days to six months to answer.
I also sometimes do #wip weekend or #wip game or #make me write and will most likely answer asks from that with greater speed.
Other tags:
#chubby eddie munson and #chubby steve harrington - because I swing both ways đ and these are kind of catch-alls regardless of weight (i.e. chubby vs fat), since they seem to be the most popular tags
#scoops words - all of my writing
#ask - replies to asks, I'm always open to rambling about my brainrot!
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the best fanfiction you've ever read was written by a woman in her 40s before she made dinner for her kids. it was written by a teenager after school when they should've been studying for a history test. and a barista came up with the idea while they cleaned the espresso machine and busser fact-checked it on their break and the post-doc edited between writing grant proposals and the nurse apologized for typos in the notes after a long shift and behind every drabble and one-shot and multi-chapter fic there is a person with a wonderful and interesting and chaotic life and it is such a privilege that we get to be apart of it because they decided to do this thing we all share, for fun.
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For I wish you would write a fic where gameâSteve has a little bit of a flashback to something while theyâre in bed but is trying so hard to not let Eddie know and not ruin their night
In retrospect I'm not toooootally this fits what you asked for, but I tried. So did Steve but tbh I think Eddie did a better job than both of us.
1,578 words. (also on ao3)
(i wish you would write a fic where)
Itâs the night after the Fourth of July, and Steve figures he should be safe. Itâs a fucking Tuesday, who fires off leftover fireworks on a Tuesday? People have work and shit. And theyâre at Steveâs house because Forrest Hills is a lot more prone to kids running around with firecrackers at the best of times. What are the fucking chances?
He hasnât mentioned anything about the fireworks to Eddie because, like, itâs stupid. If Eddie sees a bat swooping around dusk he freaks out, but that makes sense because he was literally almost killed by bats. Steve, on the other hand, got the shit beaten out of him and drugged out of his skull by evil Russians⌠and freaks out about stuff that didnât happen until hours after that, and he didnât even get hurt during that part.
But not long after Eddie sinks into him for the very first time, Steve hears that telltale whistle followed by a high boom, and suddenly every muscle in his body is winched tight. Suddenly everything is so loud, from Eddieâs moan in his ear to every pop, whistle, and crack of artificial thunder that some jackass nearby is shooting off into the night sky.
âOh g-god Steve,â Eddie gasps, his hips jerking faster andâ
Steve is just cold, frozen goddamn through. He isnât sure how much time has passed, only that his chest feels tight and each breath comes so fast itâs accompanied by a twinge in his side. His ribs hurt, his head hurts, he works forâ
âSteve? Did you notâŚ? Hey, are you okay? ⌠Steve, can you hear me?!â
Someone is gripping his shoulders hard and Steve has his eyes screwed shut as he rasps, âS-scoops, I work for⌠Scoops AhoyâŚâ
He hears cursing, but in American not Russian. The pressure on his chest lets up and hands cradle his face, calloused but⌠he knows those hands, can feel skin-temperature metal against his jaw. When he opens his eyes, tears of relief start to leak out.
âThere you are,â Eddie breathes, his hair wild and damp and his face still flushed. âFuck, baby, are you okay? Did I hurt you?â
Steve shakes his head. It wasnât Eddie who had hurt him, the evil Russians had done that. Doctor was going to pry his fingernails offâhe curls his fingers protectively into his palms.
Thereâs a pop-fizzle of the sparkly kind of fireworks outside and he flinches again. Eddie sees it this time, face falling in grim understanding. Realizing that the whole Forth of July thing is rearing itâs ugly head, even though itâs 1988 and Steve should be over this by now, what the fuck is wrong with himâ
Eddie is cradling him in both arms, Steve resting on his chest where a moment ago they⌠theyâd been in the opposite position, more or less, hadnât they? Hand with the fewest rings smoothing over Steveâs hair, repetitive and soothing. Murmuring reassurances that donât make any sense to Steveâs scrambled brain. Because heâs concussed again, isnât he? No. No, that was three years ago. He wasnât naked and sticky after being tortured.
Blood didnât get sticky, it gets tacky. Important distinction. Important⌠ish.
Eddie is humming something in Steveâs ear, possibly Master of Puppets. It helps drown out the deafening static of waiting for more fireworks.
âEds,â Steve sobs, forcing his hands to uncurl so he can grab on and, and warn him. âWe have toâgo, not safe, th-the vents, Dustin andâTheyâre just kids, itâs, this is all m-my faultââ
âTheyâre safe, theyâre safe,â Eddie assures him quickly, cupping his cheek and tilting up until their eyes meet. Steve can see him through both eyes; this is important. âRobin too. Everyoneâs okay, itâs all okay, itâs over.â
Steve tries to nod, but his eyes well up again and his throat feels too tight. âIt keeps coming back.â
âI know baby, but not anymore. We ended it. Vecna is dead. The Mindflayer is dead. The Upside Down was destroyed for good.â
With a shuddering breath, Steve tries to internalize all that. Vecna is dead. The Mindflayer is dead. The Upside Down is dead. Dustin is safe. Erica is safe. Robin is safe. Itâs 1988. Vecna is deadâŚ
Thereâs another bang outside and Eddie starts humming again, loud, while petting Steveâs hair. Just holding and rocking him.
Vecna is dead. The Mindflayer is dead. The Upside Down is dead. Dustin is safe. Erica is safe. Robin is safe. Itâs 1988, not â85 or â86. Eddie is alive.
Vecna is dead. The Mindflayer is dead. The Upside Down is dead. Eddie is alive. Itâs 1988. Steve is naked. Eddie is naked. They wereâ
âOh my god,â Steve whines, clutching at him tighter, mortification threading through the dread in his veins. âOh my god I r-ruined it. Eddie Iâmââ
âNothing ruined,â Eddie interrupts gently. âIâm sorry I didnât realize what was happening sooner, sweetheart. Iâll, uh⌠Iâll get you cleaned up in a second here, you just focus on breathing. Okay? In and out, with me. Feel that? In⌠and outâŚâ
Steve just tries to breathe. His ribs hurt. They donât. His head hurts. It doesnât. Eddie is holding him and rocking him and showing him how to breathe like a person instead of pure panic with arms and legs.
Heâs tired. Itâs all so much.
The Upside Down is dead. Itâs 1988 Everyone is safe, and alive. Eddie is here. Eddie is holding him. In and out. The Upside Down is dead. The Russians are long gone. Steve is naked and safe. Eddie is safe. Vecna is dead. The Mindflayer is dead. The fireworks will end. This isnât Starcourt. In. Out. In. Itâs 1988âŚ
Heâs so fucking tired.
By the time Steve feels steady again heâs cold, and Eddie is already pulling the blankets up in answer to his shivering. He grumbles wordlessly into Eddieâs chestâthe mess thatâs dripped out from his hole has long cooled and is probably getting on things that might not have needed to go in the laundry otherwise.
âBaby,â Eddie responds with a ghost of a chuckle, âdonât worry about it, Iâm gonna strip the whole bed in a minute anyway. As soon as I get you in a warm bath, mâkay?â
âBut we were⌠We were going toâŚâ He holds back a sniffle. âFor the first time.â
âWeâre gonna have a new first time later,â Eddie tells him with a kiss to his forehead. âOne without projectile explosives whistling through the air. I promise.â
Steve pulls back a little to squint at him. âI feel like you should be more mad at me.â
âOkay? WellâŚâ Eddie gives a halfhearted little shrug from where heâs half propped up on the headboard, arms slung low and loose around Steveâs waist, holding him without any impression of restraint because he knows about the Russian torture stuff. The broad strokes, anyway. âIâm not.â
âYouâre all red,â Steve presses, a different sort of distress making his pulse pick up again. Because Eddie is blushingâand itâs not the cute bashful kind, itâs the avoiding eye contact and chewing on the inside of his cheek kind. Frowning, Steve musters his little remaining energy and starts to pick himself up, rising onto his knees. âIf youâre mad at me I wish youâd justââ
Eddie groans and spares a hand to press over his burning face, andâAre those tears in his eyes? âOh my god, Steve, Iâm not mad. You got all tense and I⌠thought⌠you were, yâknow, finishing, and I came. I came in my boyfriend while he was having a panic attack, like an asshole. I feel like you should be mad at me.â
It takes a moment for that to sink in, and Steve is tired. What were the chances there would be fireworks, all the way out here, tonight? Or the chances of Eddie surviving the demobats attack. Or the chances of Eddie kissing him for the first time. Or the chances of it working out, of them making it all the way to this, of Steve clinging on instead of lashing out, of⌠anything. What were the chances of being born?
Christ, his thoughts get weird when heâs this tired.
He sinks from his knees back down onto his side, leaned against Eddie again, and sighs, âWouldnât I be the asshole, and youâd be the dick?â
âIâŚâ Eddie blinks too-rapidly down at him as Steve rubs a cheek sleepily against the remaining tattoo fragments across his scarred chest. âI guess?â
âOkay,â Steve says, as if that settles that. It does, for now. The pounding in his head and chest have stopped and thatâalong with just wanting to be held stillâis about all he has the energy to care about. âWeâre both getting in the warm bath. Do the bed when we get out. Please?â
He lifts his head, angling for a kiss, for comfort, and Eddie immediately gives it to him. Soft and searching, like theyâre both simultaneously checking that the other is okay and they havenât messed anything up.
Eddie is safe, and heâs Steveâs safe place, and no one is hurt or dead (except for the monsters, who should be). Maybe Steve will be more upset about spacing out through the technical loss of his guy virginity, or whatever, but for now this is enough.
Theyâll try again later.
When the leftover fireworks have all been used up.
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Steve gives me the vibe of someone who would let all his friends make jokes about him because âtheyâre just teasingâ. But one day Eddie does the same thing and he breaks down
Steve does the âtake three steps and burst into tearsâ thing his mom always does that he swore heâd never do. (He just never really anticipated it might be a sudden violent upwelling of emotional response rather than a manipulation tactic.)
important reminder that most people you follow online are significantly lamer than you think they are including me. and if you feel insecure comparing yourself to someone online: DON'T. theyre probably also lame and weird. most people on the internet are
Reducing the calories does not inherently increase the healthiness of your food.
Reducing the fat content does not inherently increase the healthiness of your food.
Reducing the sugars does not inherently increase the healthiness of your food.
The only way to increase the healthiness of your food is by adding additional nutrients to it.
I saw a video of someone complaining that fucking chicken tikka masala "wasn't healthy" so they made a "healthier version" that was, in fact, LESS HEALTHY. Because they made it with only fat free dairy products, rendering many of the vitamins they would have otherwise gotten from that meal utterly useless, because the body needs fats in order to absorb them properly.
Two tbsp of brown sugar does not render a meal "unhealthy." Full fat dairy products do not render a meal "unhealthy." Calorically dense foods do not render a meal "unhealthy."
If you're really concerned about your health, add more nutrients. Eat extra veggies or extra protein. But you're not actually worried about your health. You're worried about your weight.
You're worried that in the process of eating a homemade meal with lean protein and veggies and a rich, delicious sauce you will consume more energy than you can use today.
You're worried that energy might be stored so that your body can use it when it needs to later.
You're worried that your relationship with gravity might change. You've been taught to worry about that. You've been taught to misconstrue manufacturered body issues as being "health conscious." But you're not doing things to promote health. You're just trying to reduce your energy consumption no matter what.
And I am begging you to consider, that this is not actually a "health conscious" mindset at all.
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I technically donât have time for this. BUT guess what, I did it anyway.
I also added a few tattoos to Eddie because I imagined this was at the start of the 90s ;) it was fun trying to think of something he would get in this context. So there is a devil holding The nail bat and on his calf the text from the ring in lotr. And also a small sword that was supposed to be Narsil (also lotr), but I got lazy.
Corroded Coffinâs lead singer Eddie Munson gives MTV a tour of his âluxury mansion.â Everyone expects groupies, jacuzzis, the usual rockstar life. Instead itâs a medieval castle full of nerd stuff.
There is one guy who could be a groupie, but heâs dressed so⌠preppy. Heâs sprawled on one of the many comfy couches and working on a Rubix cube, tongue poking out a little in concentration. Munson doesnât introduce him, just calls out, âHowâs it coming, sweetheart?â The guy doesnât even look up, just flips him off; Eddie laughs and moves the tour along to the next room, which contains a full Olympic sized pool with a Star Wars themed mosaic floor.
What draws all the attention though is a coffee kiosk set up inside Munsonâs home thatâs a clear spoof on Starbucks. Itâs a fully branded and decked out coffee âcompanyâ named Penta-Dollar, with a logo that has a white pentagram etched on a red sand dollar by a black tentacle holding a tattoo gun, curling around from behind the sand dollar. Once the footage airs Starbucks sues, and Munson has good enough lawyers that it basically just becomes a matter of cease and desist.
A few months later Munson launches his own coffee company called Malicious Compliance Coffee Co., with a logo featuring a hand thatâs obviously modeled after Munsonâs giving a thumbs up sign. Of the rings on the hand, two are some of his signature decor: a skull and a cross surrounded by skulls. But the middle ring, instead of his signature pig ring, is an octopus. The branded hot beverage cups feature photocopies of the legal decision from the case with âStarbucksâ and âPenta-Dollarâ blacked out.
Itâs such a big stir that it takes a long time for anyone to comment on the fact that, uh, wasnât that Olympic gold metal swimmer Steve fucking Harrington chilling on Munsonâs couch like he lived there?
And doesnât Harrington have a small sand dollar tramp stamp tattoo??
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The pool was a recent addition, a welcome gift for Steve moving in. The mosaic includes some Ewoks. (Yes, they have already christened the pool by time of filming.)
The Starbucks lawsuit is literally the only reason Eddie starts his own coffee company. He wanted the hand gesture on the logo to be a middle finger instead of a thumb but was talked down. (By Steve. In bed.)
Eddie DID bag the hottest Olympic medal winner, youâre so right. (Steve thinks a few are hotter but heâs not going to say it out loud for fear that Eddie would end up banging down their doors to duel over his affections. He is correct to fear this.)
Five minutes after posting that photo Steve realizes itâs a trick cube that opens once solved. It contains an engagement band. Eddie is already down on one knee.
Steve has been trying to solve that cube for over a year, Robin is going to tease him so much about this.
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