#Max Gains
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pucksandpower · 8 months ago
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Max Verstappen could stop his car on the side of the track, climb over the fence, rescue a litter of puppies from a burning building, help an old lady cross the street, come back, win the race, and still not get voted Driver of the Day 😭
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skeletoninthemelonland · 1 year ago
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Gabriel, Jeremy, Susie and... Vanessa? Vanny???
oh, and Glitchtrap too (he's in the computer Vanessa is holding)
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admirerofmeat2398 · 1 year ago
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YOUR BODY IS ALLOWED TO CHANGE!
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33-16 · 2 months ago
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this whole brazil vs. abu dhabi discourse is so stupid because both achievements were absolutely incredible in their own very distinct, yet equally incredible ways. max pulling that drive, knowing his title was at stake and making all those overtakes with no fear of the rain was incredible. keeping it on track in those conditions is already a huge accomplishment. charles having that magnificent opening lap, making all those strategic moves with all the expectations for the constructors was equally incredible. just because he didn't win, doesn't diminish the comeback. these two are always so supportive and proud of each other's success and for everyone to use the other as a point of bringing one down is just ridiculous.
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buckybbdark · 1 year ago
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Curious ask prompt sketch
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coutureboard · 3 months ago
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everyones-bean19 · 6 months ago
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I finished the newtons and a bag of popcorn hehe. Another night of breathing heavy with an over stuffed gut.
Should I post some of the videos of me from last night?
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silentreigns · 2 months ago
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You're laughing. Max was just seen laughing and chatting with George earlier, but now he's calling George a snake to the media and you're laughing
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itsmoving · 21 days ago
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i like him a lot.
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billysboner · 11 months ago
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i’m sorry as a woman im imagining what it was like for miranda to be completely shunted to the side by flint the moment they arrived in nassau, to go from being her husband and friend’s equal partner in their pursuits to some “fancy bit of puritan tail”. and of course flint says he doesn’t see her that way and of course she knows she’s not a fighter and can’t join him on the walrus but god, to be stuck in that goddamn house away from literally all the action. playing nurse to her new psuedo-husband when he comes home to her on death’s door. and for all flint’s insistence that “these men are dangerous, these men will kill you, you’re safer here while i go out and do all the dirty work”, well
 in walks eleanor.
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eobsinj · 4 months ago
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some drawings from twitter
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gainercontent · 14 hours ago
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Max's Body Transformation Part 1
Once upon a time, there was a guy named Max. He’d always been the type to go with the flow, never really concerned with how his body looked. But over the years, something shifted. The more he focused on his personal life, the more he found himself exploring the world of gaining—intentionally increasing his body size. It was a journey that started out as a casual fascination, something new to experiment with, but it quickly turned into an obsession.
Max loved the feeling of indulging in all his favorite foods without a second thought. Every burger, every pizza, every extra dessert made him feel both comforted and proud. He wasn’t just growing in size, but in confidence. As his weight crept up from 160 pounds to 220, he began to embrace his body’s new curves, finding a sense of belonging within a community that understood him. He reveled in the admiration of others who appreciated his transformation.
But, deep down, Max began to notice something was changing. His energy levels started to drop. Simple tasks became harder, and he found himself out of breath after even short walks. What had once felt empowering now felt like a weight, literally and figuratively.
One evening, as he sat in his favorite diner, shoveling down another plate of food, Max had a realization. He wasn’t feeling happy anymore. He wasn't feeling his best, and his body, which he had so proudly built up, now felt like a prison. He longed to feel more agile, more active—like he once had when he was lighter.
Max decided it was time to make a change. It wasn’t about fitting into anyone else's standards, but about reclaiming his health and well-being. He began by cutting back on the late-night snacks and focused on healthier choices. He didn’t want to throw away the progress he had made, but he knew it was time to find balance.
Slowly, the weight began to come off. Not in dramatic, punishing ways, but through small, consistent steps. Max started working out, not to drastically shrink himself, but to feel stronger, to rebuild his stamina, to reclaim the energy that had once come so easily. He dropped down to 185 pounds, a healthy place where he felt comfortable in his own skin.
Through this journey, Max discovered that body transformation isn’t just about appearance—it’s about how you feel inside, too. He realized he could be happy at any size, as long as he was looking after himself and living authentically. He still embraced who he was, but he now felt empowered by his new balance, ready to face life with a new perspective.
Max learned that sometimes, change is necessary—not to fit into someone else’s mold, but to create the best version of yourself, no matter what size you are.
*****
As Max settled into his new routine, feeling stronger and healthier than he had in months, he thought he had it all figured out. But one evening, as he relaxed on the couch after a workout, something strange happened. The voice came at first as a whisper, almost like a distant memory—a longing for something familiar.
"One more cheat day won’t hurt," it said softly, as though tempting him with the comfort of old habits.
Max shook his head, trying to ignore it. He had come so far, felt so good. He couldn’t let a fleeting thought pull him back to the place he had worked so hard to escape. But the voice didn’t go away. Instead, it lingered, waiting for the right moment to resurface.
Days passed, and the voice grew more persistent. It wasn’t just a whisper anymore; it was like an echo, looping in his mind during quiet moments. He found himself daydreaming about the meals he used to indulge in—rich burgers, decadent milkshakes, and gooey pizzas. The memory of those comforts pulled him in like a magnetic force.
Max tried to push through, focusing on his progress and the healthy choices he had committed to. But then, one day, as he found himself walking past a fast-food joint, the voice came again, louder now, almost a demand.
"You deserve it," it urged. "You’ve worked hard. Just one meal, one night, one bite."
At first, he resisted. He reminded himself of how much better he felt now—his energy levels, the way his clothes fit, the way he could move with ease. He couldn’t let that slip away for a momentary indulgence.
But then, later that week, when his friends invited him out to dinner, Max found himself sitting at the table, staring at the menu, struggling to fight the cravings. His mind kept drifting back to the voice, almost as if it was an old friend that he was missing. It was like his own desires were betraying him, whispering about the satisfaction he used to feel when he let go, when he didn’t worry about the consequences.
"Just one meal," the voice insisted again. "You know it’ll taste amazing. Just a little freedom."
Max hesitated. His discipline was starting to waver. He had been so strong, but the voice was slowly chipping away at his resolve. He could feel himself weakening, giving in to the tempting thoughts.
He ordered the burger. And then, another. The instant gratification of sinking his teeth into something familiar felt like a comfort he hadn’t realized he craved. It wasn’t just the food—it was the feeling of indulgence, of throwing caution to the wind and embracing the carefree life he used to know.
As he finished his meal, a part of him felt relieved, but another part—deeper down—knew that the voice had won this round. It wasn’t just a single cheat day anymore; it was a shift, a crack in the wall he’d built around himself.
The voice became a constant companion, whispering to him when he was alone, when he was stressed, when he felt vulnerable. "You’re not truly happy without this," it taunted, "You can’t deny yourself forever."
Max felt like he was caught in a tug-of-war between his discipline and the comfort of old habits. Every time he tried to regain control, the voice would lure him back, a tempting siren call that drowned out the sound of reason.
Each day was a battle—a struggle between who he had been and who he was trying to become. And the worst part was that he couldn’t tell if the voice was coming from inside himself or if it was just the whispers of old patterns that had crept back into his life.
Max realized that the hardest part wasn’t the physical transformation—it was the mental game. The voice might have been growing louder, but he wasn’t ready to give up on the progress he had made. Not yet. He couldn’t let the past define him again.
But in the back of his mind, he couldn’t shake the question: How long could he keep fighting this war within himself?
*****
Max lay awake that night, staring at the ceiling, his mind racing. The voice was there again, louder than ever before. It wasn’t just a whisper now—it was like a thunderstorm, crashing against his thoughts, every word sharp and insistent.
“You’re fooling yourself, Max,” it said. “You can’t keep denying who you are. You’ll never feel truly satisfied until you’re back to your old ways.”
He turned over, pressing his hands to his ears, trying to block out the intrusive thoughts. I’m stronger than this, he thought. I’ve come so far. I’m healthier. I’m happier. But the voice didn’t care about any of that. It had no interest in facts or reason.
“Look at you,” it mocked. “You’re hungry all the time. The food, the comfort—it’s always going to call to you. You think you can just ignore it? You think you can change who you are, how you feel?”
Max’s heart pounded in his chest. His palms were slick with sweat. The voice was relentless, attacking his mind from all angles. It was like a battle in his head—every time he tried to fight back, it was as if the voice grew stronger, feeding off his doubts.
“You’ll never be able to resist it,” it taunted. “One meal won’t hurt. You’ve earned it. You’ve worked hard for this moment of freedom. Let yourself go. You deserve it.”
Max stood up and walked to the window, gazing out into the night, his mind spinning. I do deserve it, he thought, even though a part of him knew that wasn’t true. The voice was like a siren song, soothing him with its promises of pleasure and satisfaction. Why fight it? Why deny yourself what feels so good?
The internal war raged on.
His stomach growled, and he could feel the pull—an almost magnetic force, tugging him toward the easy comfort of his old habits. The memories of indulgence—the joy of overeating, the satisfaction of feeling full—flooded his mind. He thought of the pizza he used to devour with friends, the sugary treats he used to savor alone at night. The voice painted them in vibrant colors, turning each craving into a vivid picture of bliss.
Max closed his eyes, but the images didn’t go away. They only grew stronger. He saw himself, bigger, stronger, more confident in his own body. He felt the weight of it all, the satisfaction of indulging without guilt, without restriction.
“You’re weak, Max,” the voice whispered. “This isn’t about self-control. It’s about embracing who you really are. You’ll never be happy if you keep pretending to be someone you’re not.”
Max shook his head, gritting his teeth. No, he thought. I’m not weak. I can do this. I’m in control. I’ve made changes because I want to feel better, be better.
But the voice didn’t relent.
“You want to feel better? You want to be better?” it scoffed. “Then why are you still so empty? Why do you still feel unsatisfied? You can keep lying to yourself, but deep down, you know you want to go back. You can’t resist forever.”
Max clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms. No, he repeated to himself, but the voice was louder, pushing against the walls of his mind. He felt weak, like he was losing ground, like he was being pulled into a vortex of his own desires.
“Give in,” the voice coaxed. “Just one more time. One more moment of pure pleasure. You deserve it. You’ve earned it.”
The temptation was unbearable now. Max felt like he was teetering on the edge of a cliff, the voice the wind pushing him forward. He imagined the taste of the food, the comfort it would bring, how easy it would be to slip back into those old habits. The mental exhaustion was wearing him down, the mental battle sapping him of the strength he’d fought so hard to build.
And just like that, the wall cracked.
He grabbed his jacket and headed out, the voice in his head cheering him on, as if it had won. The streets seemed to stretch before him, beckoning him to places he used to go, familiar and comforting. He made his way to a late-night diner, almost on autopilot.
Inside, the neon lights flickered above him, and the smell of greasy food hit him like a wave. His stomach churned in anticipation. As he slid into the booth, the voice in his mind whispered sweetly, It’s just one meal, Max. One meal won’t change anything.
He looked at the menu, and before he could stop himself, he ordered the biggest burger on the list, along with fries, a milkshake—everything he used to crave. The voice was there, like a shadow, urging him to keep going, to embrace the pleasure of the moment. Max didn’t even feel guilty anymore. The battle was over. He had given in.
The food came, and Max dug in, savoring every bite. It was everything the voice had promised—familiar, satisfying, a moment of pure indulgence. But as he ate, a part of him knew that this wasn’t the victory he had hoped for. He had let the voice win, and now, as the food filled his stomach, a dull ache of emptiness settled in.
The moment of satisfaction was fleeting. As he finished the last of his meal, the voice didn’t fade. It stayed there, louder than ever, whispering words of comfort and victory. You see? That wasn’t so hard. You can have it all—just give in when it feels right.
Max left the diner, feeling heavier, both physically and mentally. The voice had won this round. He knew it, but somehow, it didn’t feel like relief. It felt like defeat.
The battle wasn’t over, though. He wasn’t sure how to fight it anymore, but one thing was clear: the voice was relentless, and so was he.
*****
The next morning, Max stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at his reflection. He hadn’t weighed himself in weeks, choosing instead to focus on how he felt—how his clothes fit, how he moved. But now, after the slip-up, the urge to know was overwhelming. He stepped onto the scale, holding his breath, hoping for the best but fearing the worst.
The numbers flickered for a moment before finally settling.
190.
Max’s heart skipped. A part of him felt a sharp pang of disappointment, his mind instantly spiraling into self-criticism. I’ve undone everything, he thought. I was so close. I was doing so well. I had control.
But then, almost immediately, the voice was there. Soft at first, but insistent. 190 isn’t so bad, it purred. It’s not 220. You’re still lighter. But you know
 it’s so close to 200. What’s a few more pounds?
Max felt his stomach twist. His mind was a battlefield, the pull of the old habits stronger than it had been in weeks. 200
 he thought, Just five more pounds. It won’t be that much.
The thrill of the idea started to creep in, and before he could stop himself, the rush of excitement flooded his veins. The voice sounded almost joyful now, like an old friend encouraging him to take the next step.
“You’re not going to stop here, are you?” it urged. “You’ve been craving this. One more push. Just go for 200. You’ll feel so much more satisfied. You’ll be proud of what you’ve done.”
Max’s gaze flickered back to the scale. He could almost taste it—the satisfaction, the pleasure of pushing his body further, of embracing his old identity. The voice painted vivid pictures in his mind, of feeling big, of feeling strong. A bigger body is a better body, it said. That’s what you want, right?
He closed his eyes, torn between the voice's sweet promises and the nagging sense of guilt that lingered just beneath the surface. He knew that this wasn’t just about weight—it was about feeling alive, about indulging in the one thing that had always brought him comfort. Food. Pleasure. Power.
Max stepped off the scale, feeling a wave of adrenaline surge through him. His resolve shattered like glass. I’ll just eat a little more, he thought. Just to get to 200. I’ll stop there. Just one more milestone.
The voice celebrated as Max grabbed his jacket and headed out the door. It whispered, You’ve got this. Just let go. You deserve this. 200’s just around the corner.
The feeling of freedom, of control slipping away, was intoxicating. He started seeing the world in a different light, the same way he had when he first started gaining—everything felt like an opportunity for indulgence. It wasn’t just about the weight anymore; it was about the act of letting go, of giving into the pleasures he had so long suppressed.
Max walked into a nearby diner and sat down, his heart pounding in anticipation. The menu seemed to beckon, offering comfort in its list of rich foods. He ordered with ease—burgers, fries, shakes. The voice didn’t stop urging him, pushing him to eat more, enjoy more, until he reached his goal.
He devoured the food with a speed and hunger that surprised him. He was no longer thinking about how much he was eating, just how good it felt, how familiar it was. Every bite was like a small victory. He could already feel the fullness spreading through him, the satisfaction taking root.
After finishing, Max leaned back in the booth, a deep sense of contentment washing over him. His stomach was heavy, but the thrill remained, like a rush of power running through his veins. He had crossed the line. He had given in. And in that moment, it felt like freedom.
As Max walked out of the diner, the voice was there, victorious. You did it. 200 is just a number. You’re back on top. Now you know you can do whatever you want.
Max stood there on the sidewalk, staring at his reflection in the store windows. He felt the weight in his body, the fullness in his stomach, but something else had shifted. The thrill was still there, but it was laced with a feeling he couldn’t quite define. He had listened to the voice—and in doing so, he had lost something more important than just his progress.
He wasn’t sure where this road would lead. All he knew was that the mental battle wasn’t over—it was just beginning.
Part 2 will be posted next Wednesday.
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ssbbwmarigold · 4 months ago
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my feeder reminded me this morning that i can’t do a weigh-in video yet, because we already maxed out the last scale đŸ˜łđŸ˜źâ€đŸ’šđŸ˜­đŸ„”
we got rid of it during a move over the summer, before i started making video content, so i can’t even make a very sexy video of the thing error-ing out đŸ˜©đŸ˜”â€đŸ’«
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I’m running a little fundraiser on my OF for a new one, but you could also give to me directly at $60percentpudding on CashApp, if you wanna help buy me another scale i will inevitably break (😳) but can’t commit to a monthly sub (understandable)
Outgrowing clothes is expensive enough, I forgot I can outgrow appliances đŸ˜”â€đŸ’«đŸ˜‘
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snailvibes · 6 months ago
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Redid my Max design!!!! Also enjoy a lil timeline of her and her appearances!!
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doublebellyman · 1 month ago
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That WTF moment when you realize you packed on a LOT of excess tonnage over the holidays! After the initial shock wears off, you’re kind of impressed with yourself though 
 right?
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coutureboard · 1 month ago
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“I'm Kobe, you Radmanovic..”
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