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someonestolemyshoes · 3 years

Note

So... during the time skip, Hange is on a business trip to Marley. Levi stays home to deal with some installation or important project for Hange, gets injured in some stupid way, falls off scaffolding or something. And he doesnt think too much of it because it's such a stupid way to get injured. And he hides it even when it gets worse and Hange is the only one who notices because she knows him so well. BUT when she gets back, it gets worse. And Levi hates hospitals so Hange forces him to go <3

Hello! Thank you so much for the prompt :) I’m not super thrilled with the way this one turned out, but I had a lot of fun anyway, and I hope you enjoy it! Angst ahead, if that’s not your thing.

(Drinking game: take a shot every time Levi says he’s fine)

Levi was no stranger to pain. While he had been luckier than most, Levi had sustained his fair share of injuries. Bruises and breaks were commonplace. Pain became easier to handle, wounds less debilitating to endure.

It didn’t make them hurt any less.

It wasn't a particularly bad accident, but it was a particularly stupid one.

Hange had been tied up in meetings for days, stuck inside Sina with other military personnel, with carnivorous media, with business moguls eager to ensure their pockets would be well lined by any negotiation plans with Marley and their neighbouring countries.

She had taken Armin and Jean alongside her; Armin had a mind with similar mechanics to her own, and as such he was best suited to help her formulate a compelling case with their higher ups, while Jean had attended at Levi’s insistence. Hange had already made it clear that, with Armin gone, they needed somebody to oversee continued construction on the railway line, and Levi, uneasy with the idea of Hange being without an attack dog, had demanded Kirstein attend in his place. The brat was becoming something of a budget Moblit, always trailing after Hange whenever she was around—Levi thought he looked a little pitiful, following her around like an eager puppy, but he supposed he was grateful for it now, if it meant he had no objections taking a trip into the interior with her.

Levi had been left with the rest of the brood. Eren and Mikasa worked diligently, though Eren—distant and despondent as he had been since the Queen’s address after Shiganshina—remained sullen, while Mikasa alternated between shooting Eren looks of concern, and staring scathingly at Levi whenever he came into view. She tolerated him far better, these days, but Levi was unsure she’d ever fully forgive him for his public display at Eren’s trial.

No matter. She did as she was told, reluctantly as may be. Connie and Sasha, on the other hand, were proving problematic.

They lacked focus. The four of them were working on construction of a rail house near the coast, somewhere to store equipment for maintenance, with a few flat beds for workers to rest in between commutes. The walls were coming along, but the space was still lacking a proper roof, covered only by tarp to keep the metal beams and frames inside from rusting before they could be treated and on the tracks. Eren and Mikasa were working quietly on one side, while Connie and Sasha were goofing off on the other.

Levi clicked his tongue. The work was, in theory, far less hazardous than slaying titans had ever been, but they were still a couple of stories in the air on flimsily constructed scaffolding, without any gear to catch them if they fell. The drop wasn’t deadly in itself, but the inside of the half-built hut was full of great mounds of metal, beams and poles and wires covered only by papery thin sheets. A fall onto that, from this height, would result in breaks and bruises at best.

"Oi,” Levi called, making his way around the rickety structure. Connie and Sasha either did not hear him, or chose to ignore him. That had been happening upsettingly often, of late; whatever intimidation tactic Levi had employed when they were still bratty kids had lost its effect. Connie teetered around Sasha as she tried to smear mortar on his cheek, edging along the scaffolding on only his toes until he made his way around her. Levi picked up his pace and called again, more of a snarl this time, a warning, but Sasha let out a shriek of delighted laughter as she managed to slap a trowel full of mortar on the top of Connie’s head. Neither of them heard him.

“You fall and break your necks and Hange will kill me,” Levi said. Sasha twisted to look at him but offered only a smile. Levi was within feet of them, when Connie moved quickly behind Sasha—he was doing nothing suspicious that Levi could see, but Sasha, awaiting retaliation, tried to scurry hurriedly away. Her foot missed the edge of the scaffolding, and there was a fraction of a second in which her eyes widened, body tilting, before Levi moved.

His hand closed around her wrist. With a sharp tug, he jerked her back onto the safety of the scaffolding, but in his rush to grab her he hadn’t the time to brace himself—with his weight unbalanced, the force of his pull sent his body careening forward, tipping over the edge of the plank.

He barely managed to release his grip on Sasha before he lurched over the edge.

It didn’t make them hurt any less.

Levi hit the beams with a resounding clatter. Metal clanged and wood splintered, dust gathering in great plumes as Levi hit the tarp. The beams, built with enough strength to hold steam engines, had no give to them—Levi struck one solidly with his side and his body bowed around it. Something—his ribs, his spine—crunched on impact. The sudden stop made his neck whip down, temple cracking hard against the stone floor.

Every last drop of air punched out of his lungs and a white, dizzying pain exploded in his head. He slumped the rest of the way to the ground, gasping fruitlessly, but his chest, all empty, crushing pressure, would not expand, would not allow for a single wheezing breath.

He lay in a heap on the cold stone. Dimly, he could hear voices, the clatter of feet on wooden planks and the echo of sturdy shoes on the scaffold poles as the kids clambered their way down to him, but everything sounded muffled and distant, warbled by the pound of his pulse and the rush of blood in his ears. He blinked rapidly, squeezed his eyes closed to push the fuzziness from the edges of his vision, then gathered himself slowly, shifting to lay on his back. His every muscle felt tight, seizing from the shock of the impact and sharp, stabbing pain, but despite the tension, something in his side felt loose. He sucked in a few small breaths, pausing at every spike of pain before trying again, and then he pushed himself up to sit. His head felt thick and full, stuffy, too heavy for his neck to hold up. It throbbed with the change of position, a crack of pain so sudden he thought his skull might split in two. He resisted the urge to grab at it as the kids’ footsteps sounded close by, several sets of feet scuffing and clicking against the stone.

Levi pre-empted their concern with a wheezy, “I’m fine,” as Mikasa, followed swiftly by the others, rounded the corner and stopped short of him. “Get back to work.”

None of them moved. Levi focused his swimming gaze on them as well as he could, attempting a glare, but the corner of his eye and the side of his face felt fat, skin tight over the rapidly swollen flesh, and his breathing was tight, uneven, chest jerking with each attempt to fill his empty lungs. Nobody looked intimidated by the sight of him—in fact, all four of the little brats looked almost frightened.

“Captain…” Eren said. Levi scowled, fought not to wince.

“I’m fine.” Gritting his teeth to muffle each pained grunt, Levi grabbed a nearby beam and used it to drag himself up to his feet. His head spun, the ache intensifying to something almost unbearable, and that, coupled with the sickening grinding sensation in his side as he straightened up, was enough to make him sway on the spot. Mikasa was the first to step forward, hovering awkwardly. Levi suppressed the manic urge to laugh—there was some irony somewhere in Mikasa, grudge so steadfastly held, being the one ready to catch him if he fell. Levi shooed her away. His chest ached something terrible, a persistent, resounding swell behind his rib cage. It should be impossible to feel so full, so bloated, yet so empty at the same time.

“You should rest a little more,” Eren said, at the same time Sasha erupted with a wailed apology. Connie looked pale and guilty behind her.

“Hange wants this—shitty thing—finished, by the time—she gets back.” Levi hitched stilted breaths as he spoke. He took a careful step forward. His side screamed, and his head pounded, but he remained upright, which was good enough. He passed by Connie and Sasha, who both looked ashen-faced, and clicked his tongue against his teeth. They’re too tall now, so tall he almost lost his precarious balance when he stretched up to pat them both roughly on the head. Then he brushed past them with as much ease as he could manage.

“Hurry up. The damn walls won’t build themselves.”

Levi had expected to be better by the time Hange returned.

The pain had not subsided at all in the three days that passed between the injury and Hange’s arrival—if anything, it had intensified, and Levi’s bouts of dizziness and breathlessness were near constant. He hid it as well as he could from the others, compensating with vicious scowls and quick, barked instructions, but he couldn’t escape their concerned glances.

The building, at least, was almost complete. They had laid the rafters for the roof the day before, and were hammering on the felt when Hange, Armin, and Jean appeared in the distance.

The weather was blisteringly hot. Eren and Connie had removed their shirts long ago, while Sasha and Mikasa had tried fruitlessly to keep their hair off the base of their necks and out of their faces. Despite his lack of manual labour Levi was just as sweaty as the rest of them, though his skin was pale in comparison. He had argued, albeit rather feebly, to do his part in aiding the construction, but the damn brats had put their foot down on that, at least—as such, Levi had spent the last three days sitting beneath the shade, glumly watching their progress.

He stood when he saw the horses approaching. The others climbed down from the scaffolding, wiping sweat from their hands and faces. They cast Levi a sidelong look, and he glared in return.

“Not a word,” he reminded them coldly. Levi had already demanded that they keep the details of his incident quiet. The swelling on his face had gone down some with the aid of a bag filled with cold sea water, but the bruises were persistent, mottled from his eye to his ear. He could play it off as a far smaller incident than it was, so long as he could keep the ugly welt on his torso well hidden. The bruising there was dark, a deep, violent shade of purple, wrapping around his side and bubbling out over his back.

Eren looked uncertain. Mikasa gave him a stoic, level look, while Sasha and Connie still looked sheepish, avoiding his gaze. They had apologised profusely, and on multiple occasions, for causing such a mess. Levi had, at their insistence, scolded them for messing around, but in truth he had little energy left to care.

Hange waved as soon as they were close enough. She kicked her horse on, Jean and Armin following dutifully behind her. The three of them pulled to a stop and dismounted, leading their horses to shade and water, looking tired, but satisfied. Levi kept his angled down, twisted to one side. He was prolonging the inevitable, he knew, but if he could get Hange talking about the meetings, or with some luck the upcoming expedition, or maybe even the mostly completed rail house, Levi could at least wait until they were alone before Hange battered him with questions.

All three of them had dark circles under their eyes. Armin yawned widely, he and Jean bumping into one another as they walked. Hange, as tired as she looked, strode forward with a delighted confidence—Levi, in spite of himself, quirked his lip in a small smile. It has been too long since Hange looked excited about anything. The prospect of an expedition had breathed some life into her.

“We’ve still got to work out some kinks,” Hange said, “but things are looking good. We’ll set up another meeting with Kiyomi. It might take a little while, but we’ll get out there ourselves. See the world with our own eyes, and—more importantly—let them see us.”

Connie and Sasha exchanged excited glances. Mikasa and Eren shared a more subdued look. Levi understood both perspectives—the prospect of venturing out into the world opened them up to a lot of risks. Each of them carried targets on their backs. One wrong move, and they would be in trouble. But, if all goes according to Hange’s plan, there would be plenty of reward. Freedom was worth any price they could pay, if only they can secure it.

Levi listened as the group reacquainted. Eren and Mikasa seemed pleased to have Armin back in their company, while Sasha hounded Jean endlessly until he relented, and surreptitiously pulled a small pack of cured meat from the inside pocket of his jacket. He had the decency to look embarrassed when he caught Levi’s eye on him, but his abashed expression quickly turned to one of confusion when he caught a good look at Levi’s face.

“The hell happened, Captain?”

Hange, who had been quietly engaged with Armin and the other two, looked around. Levi tutted and curled his lip, letting his fringe fall to cover part of his bruised brow.

“None of your business,” he said. His chest spasmed and he clenched his teeth, fighting the sudden urge to cough. “If you’ve still got the energy to stand around talking, you can get up there and help them finish the damn roof.”

Jean, who either hadn’t quite developed the same immunity to Levi’s brash tone as the rest, or was nervous about Levi scolding him for stealing food from the interior, nodded once and shrugged out of his jacket. Sasha’s eyes followed longingly as he hooked it over the nearby cart sitting on the tracks, but then her gaze shot back to Levi, and she scurried after Jean towards the rail house.

The others followed. Hange’s eye was still on him, and she waited until the group had scrambled up onto the scaffolding and picked up their tools before she crossed over to him. She bent a little, tilting her head to get a good look at his face. Hange let out a low whistle.

“Quite the bruise,” she said. Levi gave her a somewhat guarded look, and carefully shrugged one of his shoulders.

“Brats were messing around,” Levi said simply. “Caught me with a stray elbow.”

He didn’t dare look Hange in the eye long enough to determine whether she believed him. He nodded towards the rail house and said, “They’ll be done in a few hours.”

Hange beamed, bracing her hands on her hips. “They’ve made good progress! I wasn’t sure they’d get it finished by the time we made it back.”

“You wanted it finished,” Levi scowled, “those were your orders.”

“Calling it an order is a little harsh, Levi.”

“You’re our commander, Hange,” Levi said. “You tell us to do something, we do it. By definition, it is an order.”

Hange grimaced. It had been years since Shiganshina, years for Hange to come to grips with the position that had befallen her, and to her credit she had taken to it admirably enough, on the outside. It was only in small, private moments like this that she allowed herself to show doubt. The lack of cooperation from Hizuru had been a blow Hange had expected, but hoped to avoid—she had worked hard on her proposals and her negotiations had been sound, but the rejection stung nonetheless. With each new trial and each new error, Hange felt herself all the more lacking. Her distaste for her own position, for Erwin’s faith, grew stronger, and showed face more often.

Levi took in her sullen expression and winced internally. After a moment of heavy silence, he said, “They give you a hard time?”

“Who?”

“Zackley. The reporters. The kids.”

Hange let out a low chuckle. “Zackley’s as rigorous as ever. Picked apart every last thing we had to say, highlighted every possible flaw in the plan. Made us work hard, as usual. The reporters...asked a lot of questions we didn’t have answers to. They’ll smear our names in the papers tomorrow, no doubt, but it can’t be helped. We did our best. Armin was a huge help, though. He’s still a little nervous, but—so clever! So full of interesting ideas, and he negotiates well. He’ll make a good commander one day.”

“And Kirstein?”

“He’s an excellent paperweight,” Hange said, shooting Levi a sideways grin. “I appreciated the company, but I think we would have been fine without him.”

“Never know,” Levi said gruffly. He couldn’t be sure whether it was the heat of the sun or simply standing too long, but Levi was beginning to feel woozy. Breathing was still a chore, a concentrated effort to suck air into his aching chest and let it out again without choking, coughing, and more often than not he felt lightheaded. He nodded towards the boxes he’d been using as a seat over the last couple of days. “Sit. You look like shit.”

“For once, I don’t think you get to judge me for that.”

Levi had already begun walking stiffly to the boxes, and made no comment. He had no valid argument to give—he did look like shit, far worse than Hange, and he felt even shittier. He dropped a little heavily onto the box and bit back a grunt of pain.

Hange sat next to him. The box shuddered. Levi tensed as pain lanced through his side. He took in a quick, sharp breath, holding it high in his chest when the pain intensified. He could feel Hange’s eye on him and clenched his teeth, fighting to keep his face somewhat neutral.

“You sure you’re okay?” Hange said to him. Levi grunted. He busied himself taking slow, shallow breaths, staring resolutely ahead, avoiding Hange’s keen stare. “You look a little clammy.”

Levi made another quiet noise. Levi wasn’t very talkative at the best of times—this, he knew Hange was aware of, and most of the time Hange was content to fill the silence herself, but today she was quiet, and watching him too closely. Scrutinizing. Levi had often praised Hange for her powers of observation—she had an incredible eye for detail and a knack for spotting patterns and anomalies, a talent which had served the Survey Corps very well, but right now, Levi was cursing it. He didn’t need Hange surveying him.

He was hurting. He’d had a near constant headache since the incident, and his chest felt tight, riddled with pain both dull and sharp, stabbing whenever he breathed too deeply or gave in to the pressing urge to hack out a cough, but more than that, he felt unwell. Groggy, sickly, light-headed. His heart beat frantically, and his skin did feel clammy, cold sweat sitting on his brow. He stared ahead, blinking the fuzziness from his head and resolutely ignoring Hange’s steady stare.

Hange’s palm pressed to his forehead. The sudden touch made him jump—his muscles tensed, his ribs screamed in protest, and Levi let out a strangled groan, biting his tongue a second too late to trap the sound.

He was barely aware of Hange’s fussing as he fought to draw breath. Air grated in his battered lungs as Hange’s hand pressed flat to the back of his neck, her voice warped and muffled in his ear as she felt his sweat-damp skin. His vision tunnelled. He blinked rapidly to clear the black spots and wheezed in the humid air. His chest felt like it might split open, pressure billowing out from behind his ribcage, pressing agonisingly against his damaged bones.

He breathed short and shallow until the haze of pain lessened. Hange’s voice was loud beside him, the sharp, deep bark she used when she felt it necessary to assert her authority. Through the fog in his head he could barely make out her words, but he knew exactly what it was she was demanding. Sasha’s voice was meek in comparison, but it still carried over the distance enough for Levi to hear her.

“It was an accident,” she was saying. “It was our fault—my fault—”

Levi hissed through his teeth. Hange’s hands—one still at the back of his neck, the other curled around his arm—tightened their grip on him.

“Drop it,” Levi said. “Stop grilling them. It doesn’t matter what happened, I’m fine.”

Hange had the audacity to laugh, but there was no humour in it. “Fine? Levi, you can’t even move. You can barely breathe! What the hell did you do?”

“Fell,” he said shortly. His voice sounded weak, but he didn’t have the breath to put more force behind it.

“From where? When? Hell, Levi, when did this happen?”

“Hange, leave it.”

Hange turned her question to the rail house, and Connie answered immediately. Traitors, Levi thought scathingly. Mikasa explained without prompt that they didn’t know the extent of his injuries, that Levi had refused a proper medical examination despite the head wound that had left him unable to stand straight. She explained that they had managed with very little effort to get him to observe the construction from the ground, which, it seemed, was enough to concern Hange—Levi wasn’t the type to sit around doing nothing. He despised being idle and she knew it.

“You should see a doctor, Levi.”

“I’m fine—”

“No, you’re not. What else did you hurt? Just your head?”

Levi felt ill. Hange’s persistent questions were making his head spin and his entire body felt sore and spent. He mustered enough strength to glare at her, but nothing more. Hange was watching him carefully, brow furrowed in concern, but at his silence her expression hardened, and she stood abruptly. Levi bit back another groan as the box moved beneath him.

“You can ride, then?”

Levi squinted up at her. “Hah?”

“If you’re fine, you can ride back into town with me.”

No. “Sure.”

Hange stared at him a little longer, waiting, no doubt, for him to backtrack, admit defeat. Levi clenched his jaw and maintained steely eye contact. Hange narrowed her eye at him, then turned towards the rail house.

“Oi!” Hange called up, cupping a hand around her mouth. Six heads turned their way, popping up over the roof. “We’re heading back early. Leave the scaffolding when you’re done, we’ll send for it tomorrow. Good work!”

She turned on her heel and headed towards the horses, still tacked and tethered beneath the shade of a small copse of trees.

“We’ll go get your head checked.”

“Hange, I said I’m fine.” It was a weak argument, made even moreso when he stood too abruptly and swayed on the spot. Hange darted back towards him and steadied him with a hand on his shoulder, and a little of her angry resolve cracked, worry creasing her brow. She led him, more slowly now, towards the horses with her hand hovering over his back. He braced himself for the agony of her touch, if she pressed her palm against him, but Hange—perhaps in fear of not knowing what other injuries he had sustained—didn’t touch him.

“Humour me,” she said. “If you’re really fine, and it’s really nothing, no harm done. I’ll feel better knowing, and you—” she drew them to a stop by the horses and turned to face him fully, grinning, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, “—you get to say I told you so.”

Levi said nothing. The thought of riding for hours on end made him feel nauseous.

“This is pointless,” he said. “I’ll rest here, if you’re so worried.”

Hange shook her head at him. She untied her own horse and Jean’s, holding the reins out for Levi to take.

“We’re going back now, Captain. That’s an order.”

An hour into the journey, Levi began to struggle in earnest.

No part of the ride had been pleasant—the heat was oppressive, and the motion of the horse required a fluidity in his hips and back that sent sharp jolts through his side with every step. Hange was uncharacteristically quiet, occupied instead by watching Levi from the corner of her eye. His head pounded with increasing intensity the longer they travelled, and between the pain, and the scorching sun, and his pitifully shallow breathing, Levi was feeling more faint by the second.

It was an unsettling sensation. Injuries were always difficult, but Levi had never felt so completely wiped out by physical damage in the past. Three days was enough time for his body to at least begin healing, but Levi had seen no improvement since the moment he struck the beam during his fall—if anything, he’d felt worse by the day.

Now, he was fighting to keep himself upright in the saddle.

They were approaching another clump of trees, great leaves wilting in the heat, when Levi, jaw tight and teeth bared, grunted out a request that they stop.

Hange looked torn. She wanted to hurry back into town, and was already impatient enough that Levi had requested they walk—”It’s too hot, for the horses”—but something on his face must have reflected the severity of his discomfort. Hange directed them to the treeline, dismounting and taking Levi’s reins while he did the same. His feet hit the ground and his knees buckled.

Hange caught him about the elbow but only after he had sunk to the grass. He felt shaky, weak, but more than that he felt vulnerable. Realistically, Levi knew that there was no shame in being hurt, in needing help, but he was a stranger to it. He had been self-sufficient since he was in Kenny’s care, and had grown up with the express understanding that showing weakness was a death sentence. And then again, in the Survey Corps—an injured soldier was titan bait.

There were no titans now, but Levi felt distinctly exposed, sitting in the long grass with his vision swimming and his lungs burning, barely functional.

Hange knelt next to him in the grass. She brought a hand up to his face, fingers curling against his jaw. Her gaze darted over his face, all of her righteous anger forgotten as she took in his state. Levi wanted to shake her off, to shake off the spinning in his head, to stand up and get back on the horse and continue their journey, but he couldn’t find the strength to gather his legs beneath him. Hange’s hands—one on his arm and one still on his face—kept him sitting upright.

“Levi…” Hange said slowly. Words sat on his tongue, reassurance that he was fucking fine, that he just needed a minute, but try as he might, he couldn’t get enough air in to voice them. His chest bubbled and rattled as he drew in a thin breath.

“Levi,” Hange said, sharper this time. Levi blinked blearily and searched for her. Neither of them were moving, but Hange’s image wavered and blurred in front of him. He swallowed. Wheezed. His heart hammered in his ears. Hange’s fingertips found the pulsepoint in his neck, pressing, counting. “Levi—what else hurts?”

Levi swallowed thickly, a nauseous tremor under his tongue. After a moment, he choked out, “cracked a few ribs, probably.”

Hange sucked in a sharp breath. “Let me see.”

He didn’t have the strength to fight her as Hange began unbuttoning his shit. He swayed where he sat, struggling to balance without her hands keeping him upright, until he heard Hange’s hiss as she uncovered the bruises wrapping his chest and back.

Levi looked down and grimaced. The bruising was worse than he remembered, stretching further up his chest, dark and mottled, the flesh tight and swollen.

“Levi, this is bad,” Hange said. “We need to get help.”

“Just need rest,” Levi said. His voice sounded slow and slurred in his own ears. Hange’s hand cupped the side of his neck, her thumb tipping his jaw up to look at his face. His eyelids felt heavy.

“I know it hurts,” she said, “and I know you don’t want to move, but—Levi, please. C’mon, I need you to get up.”

It had been a long, long time since Levi had heard that frantic tone from her. She sounded urgent, panicked. Desperate. Levi dragged his eyes open, but found he couldn’t focus on her face anymore. His lungs protested violently as he tried to speak, only coughing instead, dry and hacking. His chest burned.

Hange dragged him to his feet. Levi’s limbs felt heavy and clumsy, detached and completely out of his control. He leaned heavily into Hange’s side as she moved him across the grass.

“C’mon, Levi—work with me.”

Hange hefted him up onto one of the horses. Her horse, he realised, as she clambered up with him. She settled behind him, her arms gripping the reins either side of him. Levi tried to sit up right, but as she kicked the horse on, he slumped back with a low groan. Hange’s voice rumbled through her chest when she spoke.

“You good?” Hange asked quietly, and then, “stupid question, of course you’re not.” Levi found the strength to scoff, but it was a pitiful sound, and followed swiftly with another pained grunt and a fit of coughing. “Bear it a little longer, okay?”

Consciousness drifted, as they rode on. Levi was dimly aware of the sun on his feverish skin, and of Hange’s warm, solid body at his back. Her jaw brushed his head when she moved. Her voice was constant now, a rumble up his spine and in indistinct mumble in his ear. At times he could pick out her words, but his comprehension was hazy, mind unable to string sentences together, to find meaning in her chatter.

In this state, there was no focal point for the pain. It was consuming, indistinct but ever present, impossible to isolate in any one location. His whole body ached. His breathing was quick and laboured. There was no real respite even in this state.

Hange’s hand repeatedly found his throat, fingers feeling for his frantic pulse.

Time passed strangely. The ride seemed to last a lifetime, with Levi waking a thousand times to agony, consciousness barely breaking before he succumbed again to his feverish dozing.

At times, he awoke to new sounds and new sensations. The echo of multiple voices around him, all talking frantically over one. The scratch of crisp sheets beneath his bare back, the click of shoes on tiled floor. New, stinging, fiery pain, sudden and excruciating enough to make his body jolt in discomfort, followed swiftly by strong hands on his arms and legs to keep him still. Cool air blowing gently over his heated skin. His hand caught in a loose, tangled grip.

The aches in his battered body settled, localised. Levi felt it acutely in his chest, though the pressure no longer felt as intense. Breathing still hurt, but the air came easier now. He felt his lungs fill with it, little by little, for the first time in days. He opened his eyes, blinking rapidly in the light, then rolled his head slowly to look around.

The small window had been cracked open, the fresh, cool air lifting Levi’s fringe, tickling at his brow. Thin morning light poured in, illuminating the small, sparsely furnished room. Besides the bed he lay on, there was only one small table and a stiff, uncomfortable wooden chair.

Hange was slumped low in the chair. Her legs were sprawled out in front of her, her chin dropped to her chest while she slept. She had discarded her military jacket, eye patch, and glasses in a heap on the floor, and her sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, the top buttons of her shirt undone and splayed open. Her hair hung limp and ratty around her face. She looked pale and exhausted.

Levi’s tongue was dry, tacking to his teeth and the roof of his mouth. It took him three attempts to say her name, and when he did it came out raspy and ragged. He tried to move, to reach over and nudge her awake, to ask what the hell had happened since he’d last been lucid—but as he leaned over a sudden, white hot agony ripped through him, tearing into his side.

He gave a strangled groan and pressed himself back into the mattress, squeezing his eyes closed as he rode out the spasms. Wood scraped by the bed; Hange must have startled awake at his outburst. Levi squinted an eye open to see her blinking rapidly, rubbing her knuckles into her eyes before scooping up her glasses and taking in the sight of him.

The pain subsided little by little, though Levi didn’t dare move again. Hange sat on the edge of her chair and reached for him, her hand stopping short of his and falling to grip the bed sheets instead.

“How you feeling?”

Levi cleared his throat. “Like shit.”

Hange managed a weak smile. The bags under her eyes were considerably darker than they had been before, her skin paler, papery. Levi frowned at her. “You still look like shit.”

Hange waved him off with a small laugh, sitting back and scrubbing her hands over her face. She hung her head over the back of her chair, fingers pressing into her eyes beneath her glasses. She sat for a long while, observing the backs of her eyelids. Levi watched her through pinched eyes as the burn in his side settled to a more familiar ache.

“Don’t do that,” Hange said, voice strained by the stretch of her throat. “Don’t do that again.”

“Which part?” Levi said.

“All of it. Don’t get in stupid accidents. Don’t pretend you’re fine when you’re not. Don’t—”

She stopped short, then, with a sudden hitch of her breath. Levi watched her dig her fingers harder into her eyes, watched the bob of her throat as she swallowed reflexively. For a moment she was quiet, then she sat up straight and turned watery, bloodshot eyes on him.

Hange was strong. She was a far more emotionally available person than he could ever be, but she had an incredible capacity to compartmentalise. To switch off. To accept the necessity, the inevitability of loss, to evaluate and recalculate and move forward. Hange mourned—Levi had witnessed the aftermath of it plenty of times before, repaired broken tables and reorganised upended bookshelves in the wake of her disaster—but she mourned later. Alone. Felt all her fears and frustrations in isolation, away from prying eyes.

Hange wasn’t the type to cry at peoples besides and beg them to live.

And yet.

“Don’t leave me on my own.”

“It wasn’t that—”

“You dare tell me it wasn’t that bad and I’ll kill you myself.”

Levi clamped his mouth shut. Hange was glaring at him like she might really mean it. Instead of arguing, he said, “what’s the damage?”

Hange slumped forward, elbows on her knees and head hung low. “Broken ribs. Ripped up a few muscles in your back. Collapsed lung. The air pressure in your chest was restricting blood flow to your heart.” She put her head in her hands and dug her fingers into her messy hair. “You got so fucking lucky, Levi. If we hadn’t left when we did—”

He watched silently as Hange groaned into her palms. She breathed deeply, back and shoulders raising as she did.

“You could have died.”

“I didn’t.”

Hange’s head shot up. “By the skin of your teeth, Levi. You—” she took a long, steadying breath, but her voice still shook as she continued, “—you were barely breathing. You couldn’t talk to me, you would hardly even respond to me.”

“Sorry.”

Levi wasn’t sure what else he was supposed to say. Hange looked distraught, her composure tenuous. Levi’s fingers twitched on the sheets, itching to reach out and touch her, offer some kind of reassurance that he was here, he was fine—but he wasn’t fine, and moving so far was out of the question. He gripped hard at the sheets instead. “Sorry.”

“Not you as well,” Hange said quietly. Levi’s chest tightened painfully at her tone—she sounded so small in that moment. Scared. Levi wasn’t sure he’d ever heard her sound so frail before. “What am I supposed to do if you—” she cut herself off again, shaking her head.

“Same thing you always do.” Hange curled tightly in on herself. Levi turned to stare at the ceiling instead. “You keep going, Commander.”

“Don’t. Don’t do that.”

“One day or another, everyone you care about eventually dies. You said that.” He listened as Hange’s breath hitched, but refused to look at her. “It sucks. It hurts. But we keep moving forward.”

The mattress dipped by his hand. Levi rolled his eyes down, and found Hange hunched out of her chair, her face pressed into the blankets. Levi sunk his fingers quietly into her hair.

They lapsed into a painful silence. Hange hiccupped and sniffled now and then, while Levi scratched lightly at her scalp. After a long while, Hange spoke again.

“I know those were my words,” she said thickly. “But I can’t accept that. Not now. Not after everything.”

“Stubborn,” Levi said quietly. He pulled lightly at her hair until she raised her head, wiping her cheeks and nose messily on her arm. “Disgusting.”

Hange managed a bare, wobbly smile. Levi’s hand fell from her hair as she straightened up, and Hange scooped it up in both of her own. She played absently with his fingers, curling and flexing them, rubbing her thumb over the lines on his palm. She seemed to be gathering herself, brow a little furrowed in thought.

“I know we can’t guarantee anything. I know how uncertain our world is. But just—” Hange paused, closing Levi’s fingers around her own, then looked up at him with a fierce determination. “Promise me anyway.”

Levi blinked sluggishly at her. “Promise you what?”

“That you’ll survive.”

Levi tensed. “Hange…”

“Indulge me. Just this once, please.”

A promise of that kind was unrealistic, Levi knew this. Hange had said so herself: there were no guarantees. Except, that wasn’t quite true—death, at least, was a constant. The only inevitability they had. The island may be free of titans now, but the threat of attack loomed over them like a persistent storm cloud, black and heavy, ready to give at any moment. And accidents, as he had painfully learned, could happen in the blink of an eye.

Levi was resilient, but he wasn’t invincible.

But Hange was looking at him steadily, her resolve unwavering. She wanted his word here and now. Needed it, maybe, but Levi knew her. Hange valued honesty over everything else. There was no way she could feel at ease with such an empty promise.

Levi sighed.

“You’re a brat, you know that? Looking at me like that.”

Hange’s gaze held firm. Levi felt her grip on his hand tighten.

“I can’t promise shit like that, Hange,” he said. She squeezed his hand tighter still, and her body tensed, shoulders drawing up to her ears. “You know I can’t. Nobody can.”

For one horrible, gut wrenching moment, Levi thought she might cry again. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes but when she opened them again, her good eye looked terribly blank.

“You’re right. Sorry, sorry!” She let go of his hand and sat back in her chair, hands resting on her legs instead. Her voice sounded lighter, more like Hange, but there was something off about it. Something forced. Strained. She adjusted her glasses but didn’t meet his gaze again.

This was the Hange he knew. The Hange who could bury her feelings in the moment, squash them down and push them aside to focus on the rational, the plausible. Seeing her like that didn’t relieve him the way it should have. It left a sour taste in his mouth and a discomfort in his gut, knowing that he was the cause of the grief she felt she had to hide.

It was stupid, the whole situation—how a moment of carelessness lead to this; Levi bedridden, and Hange struggling to hold herself together.

The space between them grew stagnant. Hange seemed a little lost in thought, gaze caught blankly on Levi’s blankets, while Levi watched her, waiting for her to say something else, to change the subject, to be Hange again. But Levi was never one for giving inspiring speeches, and in truth, he didn’t know that anything he could say now would make anything better. Hange would do what Hange always did—wait until she was alone, and vent in whatever way she could.

And Levi, as soon as he was able, would do what he always did, too—pick up the broken pieces and mend as much as he could.

“You should rest.”

Hange blinked tiredly over at him. It had been an age since Hange looked well-rested, years since Shiganshina and the exhaustion of that particular battle had never left her. The burden she carried—everything Erwin had left behind and all that they had discovered since—was so impossibly heavy, the expectations put upon her too much for any one person to handle. Hange had enough to deal with, she didn’t need to be worried about him, too.

“Eat something, bathe. Sleep. I’ll still be here when you come back.” After a pause, he added, “I’ll promise you that much.”

Hange gave him a weak, wry smile as she fished up her eye patch, strapping it into place and righting her glasses over it. “I guess I’ll take that. And then tomorrow, you can promise me the same again.”

Levi rolled his eyes. “Fine, whatever. Go.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll nap for a couple hours and come back. You should sleep some more too, you know. It’ll help you heal faster.”

Levi grumbled in response, and grumbled louder still when Hange stepped up to the bedside, but he fell quiet when she leaned over, brushing his fringe back from his forehead and pressing a small kiss to his hairline. It was such a simple gesture, and nothing out of the ordinary—Hange had been a physically affectionate person as long as he had known her, always grabbing and hugging and kissing whenever she got the chance—but there was something so tender in it, this time. Levi’s eyes fluttered closed.

Hange lingered longer than was strictly necessary, and yet it still didn’t feel like enough. Levi could easily have let her stay close, feel the warmth of her breath and the softness of her lips on his skin until he drifted into sleep, but she straightened up after a moment and Levi was left instead with the cold breeze from the open window. Levi blinked sluggishly up at her. His own exhaustion barrelled in, making his eyes sting, lids heavy. Hange folded her jacket over her arm and pushed the chair into the corner, out of the way.

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” She said.

“Mm.”

“You’re gonna feel like you got crushed by a titan when the pain meds wear off, so make the most of it.”

“Got it.”

“And you should let the doctor know if anything changes. Straight away, don’t wait around.”

“I will.”

"And there are nurses around, if you get hungry or thirsty. The bathroom is just down the hall too, but they've got bedpans if you need to—"

“Hange.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” Hange had already crossed the room as she spoke, but she paused in the doorway, fingers curled around the frame. She deliberated with herself for a moment longer, then said, “hey, Levi?”

“Hm?”

Hange chewed on her lip, contemplating something, a faint blush building on her cheeks. And then she shook her head, gave him a small smile, and said, "Ah, doesn't matter. Sleep well."

She left quickly after that, closing the door quietly behind her. Levi stared at the space she'd vacated, brow a little furrowed; her hesitancy confused him.

But he was tired. His body hurt. His head felt thick and fuzzy, and without Hange's presence to keep him occupied, he consciousness began to drift.

Tomorrow, he thought hazily. He would ask her tomorrow. For now though, he would follow his own advice; for now, he would rest.

#snk #levihan #my writing #man I had a hard time with this in the end hjhgjj I can't say I'm that satisfied with it #but!! I am sticking to my philosophy after the Drabble week #someone somewhere will like it #levihans relationship ended up more ambiguous but hey ho #also ended up being a lot of angsty hange

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thanksjro · 4 years

Text

Dark Cybertron Chapter 1: Welcome to Comic Event Hell

You know what readers love? When the stories they’ve gotten invested in over the course of a couple years get interrupted for some pseudo-crossover bullshit.

And you know what writers love? When the story they’ve been crafting over the course of a couple years get interrupted for some pseudo-crossover bullshit.

Did I say love?

Because I didn’t mean it.

“Dark Cybertron” was penned by John Barber and James Roberts, with collaboration with comic writer and artist Phil Jimenez, and was published from early November, 2013 to late March, 2014. Atilio Rojo, James Raiz, and Livio Ramondelli did the art, each responsible for scenes in specific locations, with Robert Gill filling in as needed. Alex Milne, Andrew Griffith, and Brendan Cahill would also contribute pencils to the first issue and the back half of the series. It was a celebration of the 30th anniversary of the franchise, and the second birthday of Phase Two... which went on for over four months, but never mind that!

Both "Dark Cybertron” and its preliminary materials were made to go alongside the Transformers: Generations toy-line, each issue being included as a toy pack-in with whatever character was being featured… or, at least, that was the plan. Sometimes it didn’t work out. Regardless, this storyline was created to sell toys directly, as opposed to the MTMTE/RID series being made to sell toys more through the power of suggestion. It’s a small distinction, but important, because it will help explain any lack of soul one may perceive while they read “Dark Cybertron”.

“But Hannz!” you cry out, reaching to grab me by the throat and shake me like a rag doll, because to you I’m merely a faceless voice on the internet. “Surely by calling this specific storyline soulless, you’re completely ignoring the very nature of this franchise that you’re almost uncomfortably invested in!”

To which I’ll say this: look, I’m pretty realistic about where my giant space robots came from; Transformers as a franchise would not exist the way it does without Ronald Reagan introducing the Free Market to literal children and fucking up how we interact with media for the rest of time. There is no ethical consumption under capitalism, and that rings especially true when I’ve got a Spinister on my bookshelf staring me down as I write this, that was likely made out of plastics which either involved blood oil or unethical labor practices, if not both.

However!

The choices of a company to have their comic license holders to cook up an entire plot that derails what they’ve already got planned out for toy tie-in comics is a completely different animal than what IDW had had going on up to this point. Phase Two had been about exploring different ideas that hadn’t been able to be explored during the war, and seeing what happens when you take away a third of the logline for Transformers G1 as a whole. Being a part of a brand of toys was almost inconsequential to how the stories were being told; even the Spotlights, which were also toy tie-in comics, had plenty of charm to them, if only because there weren’t quite as many constraints placed on the writers, and they were stand-alone issues.

Of course, being tie-in comics isn’t the only reason that “Dark Cybertron” is a bit of a slog, considering everything IDW itself was trying to get done within this storyline, but we’ll cover the publishing company’s/Simon Furman’s/Transformers’ tumultuous relationship with the concept of gender identity and expression later on, when it becomes relevant to the story proper. This point also ties into the interesting origin of Windblade, who we’ll meet in a few issues, and what happens when you let your fanbase have a taste of power and forget that people might like to see themselves represented in the media they consume.

“Dark Cybertron” is what ended up making me stop reading MTMTE the first time I tried it in 2015. A big part of it was because it forced the reader to need so much information from RID and even events prior to Phase Two, it wasn’t very fun to try to parse what was going on, on top of the writing beginning to flag because of obvious constraints to what Barber and Roberts could actually do, both within their deadlines and the rules put in place by their higher ups for the event.

“Dark Cybertron” is the result of the sort of executive meddling that kills reader enjoyment by requiring writers to cram their two worlds together as quickly as possible, without the option to go for nuance because there simply isn’t time. The reason we have four separate artists for the front half of this story is because Milne and Griffith didn’t have time to draw both their current workload and “Dark Cybertron” at the same time... but sales probably went up due to the nature of how the story was published, so I’m sure they didn’t really see a problem with it.

That’s a general “they”, not a Milne and Griffith “they”.

In short, we’ve got license contract obligations, fan-poll obligations, and gender stuff fighting for space within the next 12 issues, which will be published in the span of roughly four months. Things are probably going to be a little bloated and sloppy.

Regardless of any of these points, this is what we’ve got. It’s not like it’s all bad- “Dark Cybertron” has the benefit of being written by two people who had been working closely before it had even been conceptualized. Barber was the senior editor for MTMTE, and IDW as a whole until he left in 2016. It also isn’t a proper crossover- y’know, where two completely separate titles get mashed together for a bit. MTMTE and RID exist in the same universe, just have their own things going on, so a decent amount of things still carry over without you needing to have read every single thing in both. The writing, while not quite up to par with pieces that had more creative freedom and breathing room between scenes, is still recognizable as being Barber and Roberts’. Their voices are still here, they’re just strained under the weight of everything that has to be said inside of 12 issues.

With all THAT out of the way, let’s dive in to Dark Dawn: Dark Cybertron Chapter 1.

We get a quick rundown of the most basic information you’ll need for this entire story to make sense, as we reintroduce the fact that Shockwave is an ecoterrorist with more agendas than a daily planner factory on meth, and also that he grows magic crystals. I don’t care what he says, the Ores are fucking space-magic. If you don’t want to read through all of RID for everything else, please see Robots in Disguise (2012), #1-22- A Recap, For Reference Purposes. We also get a quick rundown of the Lost Lighters’ deal, as Swerve potentially has a meta-episode.

Be careful what you fucking wish for, bucko.

Our story proper starts with a flashback to the shittiest road trip Cyclonus ever went on, as the Ark 1 finds itself at the edge of a mysterious portal. This is likely why he wasn’t super thrilled when the portal to Luna 1 showed up- portals are probably a touchy subject for him.

Jhiaxus doesn’t know what this portal is- surely this means that science has failed us, and it’s time to call in the religious crowd to try and suss out what’s going on here.

It’s moments like this that make me wonder what exactly happened in the Dead Universe that made Cyclonus’ cheek meat just pack up and leave.

Now, we know that Cyclonus is correct here, because we as readers have more knowledge than the characters at this point, but Jhiaxus tries to write off this theory as hogwash, because he is a man of rationality and science. This is a slight removal from his character in the present, whose most notable traits seem to be a lack of ethics and screaming.

Everyone here seems to be slightly different from their current iterations, actually; Galvatron doesn’t say a word as he steps between Jhiaxus and Cyclonus, only using his body to communicate that the scientist might want to back off. Cyclonus himself is certainly the wordiest we’ve ever seen him to be, droning on through his actual thought process before he comes to a conclusion on what exactly they’ve found. Compare this to the Cyclonus of today, who only deigns to grace everyone with his voice if they outright threaten him, have something he wants, or are Tailgate. If he were to ever pull this verbal meandering on board the Lost Light, people would probably assume he’s having a stroke.

Nova Prime- you remember him, don’t you?- gives not a fuck about the Dead Universe, only what it means for him personally. And what it means for him is more locations to subjugate, because he is cartoonishly evil. His character is the least removed from his present-day iteration out of everyone. He tells the crew they’ll be getting a little closer, only for the portal to do the work for them, by way of dark energy tentacles.

Wow, the pilot for the Ark 1 really is just straight-up named Butt, isn’t he? And what the fuck is that face you’re making, Cyclonus? Are you- oh my god, are you emoting? Oh my god, he’s emoting.

As the Ark 1 is pulled to its doom, Jhiaxus makes a quick phone call to Shockwave to tell him he’s his favorite, and to keep up the good work.

In the present, Shockwave reflects on just how friggin’ long this whole ordeal has taken. Fortunately, Waspinator and the Titan are almost here, and he can hardly wait.

Not, uh, that he’s got emotions or anything. It’s been established that he doesn’t have those anymore. Is impatience an emotion? Does that count?

Shockwave seems like he’d be really frustrating to write for.

Anyway, the Titan shows up, the Ore inside him and the Ore in the underground Crystal City combine, and the Titan starts screaming because everything hurts. Shockwave’s about as thrilled as he can be about the situation, given his lack of emotions.

Above Crystal City, we finally get back to that nonsense about the early sunrise, as someone- maybe Starscream, given the color of the narration box- waxes poetic on the planet of Cybertron, wartorn and wild in its rebirth, ruled by paranoia that has nothing to bounce off of, and so creates its own walls.

Then we get a detailed shot of Rattrap’s mug, and the moment is broken.

Rattrap’s character is a lot of fun in everything he gets tossed into, but you’re a goddamn liar if you think he’s pretty to look at. You are lying to yourself, and I won’t apologize for saying it.

Starscream walks out of his room in his hot new body, feeling fine and ready to take on the world. We’ll check in on him later in the day to see how that positive mentality is working out for him.

So, the sun hasn’t moved, and it’s way too early for the sun to even be up right now. That’s weird. Because I guess he didn’t know how the sun works, Starscream’s only just realized that this is perhaps a problem. He does some computer work and realizes that this is indeed a very bad thing, and asks that Rattrap call the Autobots. Not the ones who fucked off into the wilderness, the other ones. The gay, space ones.

Up in space, Orion Pax and his pals have found themselves in dire straits, the collapsing Gorlam Prime sucking their ship back down as the Death Ore consumes everything.

That’s not how engines work! And I think it really says something about the “Prelude” issues that I completely forgot why Wheelie was down an arm for a solid five seconds.

It turns out that Orion was the narrator the entire time, which I should have known- since when is the once and future Optimus Prime not the primary voice in any media he appears in?

It’s looking rough for the fellas, but luckily we’ve got to get the plot rolling, so the Lost Light VZZZZTs into existence and picks up the Skyroller to place it gently into its belly.

Orion isn’t exactly jazzed about the fact that Rodimus didn’t listen to what he told him, not even bothering to thank the guy for saving his life. I say y’all keep going on your Thunderclash Quest and leave this ungrateful loser behind. No space yachting for you, Orion.

The rest of the Pax Posse enter the Lost Light proper, and Hardhead reveals that he nearly joined the Quest, before he saw who all would be coming with, while Garnak has a tearful reunion with Rodimus. The fact that he’s calling him Sir- which I don’t recall him doing in Transformers (2009), at least not in a way that seems reminiscent of an unfortunate Antebellum Period Romance- feels rather weird, but I’m glad someone’s fucking happy to see Rodimus at least. Ultra Magnus asks Orion if he’ll be assuming command of the vessel, as Rodimus tries not to look horrified by the thought alone, but fortunately Orion’s not going to pull his “I’m Optimus Prime and I Can Do What I Want” Card just yet.

Smash cut to the bridge, as Rodimus tries to make himself sound competent, when Starscream calls. Orion doesn’t like that Starscream has their number, Perceptor almost reveals the fact that this ship technically doesn’t belong to a faction, likely due to being purchased after the war, and Cyclonus gets brought in for his professional opinion.

As it turns out, that early sunrise isn’t a sunrise at all, but a portal to the Dead Universe. This is a problem, because the Dead Universe really sucks, and you don’t want to go there, especially if you enjoy being alive. Orion seems more concerned about the fact that Starscream is ruling the planet, and Bumblebee is nowhere to be found.

Speaking of Bumblebee, he and all his camp buddies are psyching themselves up for a confrontation.

Swoop, please, this is hardly the time for crudeness.

The Dinobots, sick of Bumblebee’s dithering about, decide they’re going to fight the fucking sun and gear up. Prowl, though generally disliking their brand of problem-solving, does share his begrudging respect of their can-do attitude.

Their can-do attitude over fighting the fucking sun.

Then an earthquake happens and the ground rips open to reveal that Titan that Waspinator showed up with.

Shockwave takes over the narration at this point, and we get artsy, as we see events that haven’t transpired yet over musings on the nature of... time? Maybe? It would be in line with Roberts’ go-to topics, but honestly the whole thing’s kind of vague so I couldn’t give you a solid answer. Shockwave gets awfully introspective for a guy who shouldn’t care, I know that much. The point is, he is inevitable and is super good at logic and science.

Also, Nova Prime and Galvatron are back, which is cool, I guess. Not sure where Galvatron had gotten to exactly after the events of “Chaos”, but he’s back now, so it doesn’t matter too terribly much. Shockwave serves them, which we’ll probably get an explanation for at some point.

God, you can practically taste the desperation to pin all these plot points together before the entire thing implodes on itself.

#transformers #jro #dark cybertron #issue 1 #maccadam #Hannzreads #overthinking about robots #incoming analysis #text post #long post #comic script writing

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lihikainanea · 5 years

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Tiger and Bill fucking, not anything too our of ordinary, but it clicks in her mind as she looks at his face. He’s so beautiful, kind, and is so great, beyond words. She gets very soft, her heart aching at the thought of how much he cares for her. When they both finish, she’s spun into a complete sense of vulnerability, pushing him away immediately after he finished. She started to breathe heavy, tears flowing as he stood, trying to calm her down anyway possible.

Anonymous said: bff!bill and his tiger having sex but she cries at the end, revealing something she’s going through that she actually hadn’t told him about? maybe she went on a date with a guy and he said some nasty stuff to her?Anonymous said: You think it ever had times where tiger was insecure about her body (maybe she gained weight or something) and one of her boyfriends made her feel insecure about it. How would Bill react?

Oh, nani(s). I love these. I combined them because they are all threads of the same root for me, but my god, send me more. Send me more that lets my imagination run on how good Bill is, because I’m so here for good dudes right now. Solid dudes. Confident dudes who lift up the women in their lives.

I’m guilty sometimes of swinging too much one way, and making strong people too strong and denying that they have any kryptonite. Which is funny, because I always am so enthralled by vulnerability when it comes to beautiful people. That’s the part I want to know, the part I want to see. It has never let me down.

I think most times, when tiger feels this way, it’s usually in direct relation to Bill somehow. Like she knows he’s beautiful, she sees it, but sometimes she forgets how beautiful he is, forgets this whole side to his life which is that he’s a celebrity. And then when she gets caught up in that, when she sees pictures of him with industry people…I mean shit, how can a normal human being not feel terrible about themselves? And make no mistake, he would be furious with her for thinking that way because of all people, he expected her to be smarter than that, to know him well enough to realize that he doesn’t buy into that shit either.

But I mean, beautiful people are fucking intimidating as hell, you know? And it’s easy to make yourself crazy, thinking that they don’t have stomach rolls, that they don’t have cellulite, that they wake up looking the way we see in photographs. I can go on a long rant about how destructive this celebrity machine is, how every single thing that ever makes it to our eyes is incredibly carefully orchestrated, organized, edited, to have us come to a conclusion that we very much think we come to on our own. Anyway, don’t get me started.

Also, look, my favourite bartender in the Zurich airport makes my gin and tonics super fucking strong and I just DON’T HAVE THE STATE OF MIND to edit this right now. Sorry if it’s riddled with spelling mistakes, I’ll fix it when I get to…wherever the fuck I’m headed.

***

Usually, you were better at reeling it in, getting it under control. Usually your need to knock your best friend down a few notches on his celebrity pedestal overruled any ounce of self-consciousness that had ever crept into your mind during your friendship.

Bill had always been drawn to your casualness about it, and you held on to that fact when all of it seemed to be getting the best of you. You were his safe space away from it, you protected him from it at times, forced him to face it at others times, but most of all you just…didn’t seem to care. There was a realness about you, from the very beginning, that he couldn’t get enough of because it had been so absent in most of his previous relationships, romantic or otherwise.

And he wasn’t stupid, he knew what was going on most of the time and he wished for a certain level of normalcy. Group vacations got awkward when he took part, the other women in the group never leaving their faces bare and free of make up when he was around. Even though he was a friend, their outfits seemed more carefully planned, their nonchalance a little more forced, their laughs a little more fake.

You had been unapologetic from the beginning. You didn’t seem to mind who saw you without make up, or what you were wearing. You had called him over to help install a shelf (because it was an IKEA shelf, and Bill was “all Swedish and shit”) and he smiled when you whipped open the door, a half eaten slice of pizza in one hand, hair amuck, in your pyjamas. Bar nights were low key, it was rare he saw you in heels but even though you were considerably less done up than most of the others, you still managed to catch nearly every eye in the bar with your loud laugh and your ability to beat nearly everyone at both pool and darts. And yet, you seemed oblivious to it every time.

But what was intriguing to Bill was often hard to manage at times, for you. You could usually push the thoughts to the back of your mind until they eventually disappeared, but when it was a culmination of events, it became harder and harder to ignore.

Bill was beautiful—conventionally, physically, emotionally—in every sense of the word, Bill was beautiful. And once you got to know him better, his physical beauty became the lesser of all of them, but it was still there and sometimes your forgot that it was the only beauty that some people knew or saw in him. And when compared with normal folk, Bill stuck out like a sore thumb.

He would be oblivious to the looks, but you seemed to catch them every time.

It had started the weekend before, when he brought you to a fitting for an upcoming photoshoot. He had recently signed on with a new designer as a spokesperson and was leaving for a few days to an exotic location for a new magazine spread. You had refused at first—spending the afternoon in a designer’s studio sounded like a nightmare to you—but he had begged for your company, and you agreed.

You wished you hadn’t.

Between the dirty looks the assistant kept throwing your way, how the designer had looked hesitant to even shake your hand as if the resignation of going out in public in jeans and a loose shirt was contagious, you wanted to crawl into a hole and cry. They fawned over Bill, his height, his measurements, his long legs—he was a designer’s dream, and every scrap of material they put on him looked phenomenal. You caught the way the assistant took her time measuring his inseam, the way she looked up at him, biting her perfectly outlined red lips. You fiddled with the sleeves of your shirt—the sleeves which were too long, the chest probably a little too tight, and subconsciously sucked in the two rolls that always seemed to protrude from the top of your jeans when you sat down.

This assistant, you were willing to bet, didn’t have any of that.

It had snowballed from there. For the first time in your friendship, you felt…inadequate. You felt like you finally saw what everybody else had been seeing for awhile; that you were a completely mismatched pair.

The entire week, none of your clothes seemed to fit right, nothing seemed cute. You didn’t know if you had gained weight or if you were just bloated for some reason or another, but things seemed too tight, your breasts looked too big in some shirts, too small in others, noticeably lopsided in the rest. Your jeans fit properly until you had breakfast or lunch or dinner, and then you started to feel your stomach roll over the tops of them.

And now every time Bill walked in the room, you wanted to curl up and disappear. Because he never seemed to look anything short of beautiful; whether it was in the morning when he first woke up, his hair a tousled mess and his eyes barely open, or late at night when he had been working away on a script and his voice was raw, his eyes bloodshot—he still looked beautiful. When he was exhausted, deep bags under his already hollowed out eyes, his cheeks drawn in, there was still a beauty to him. In nothing but jeans and a t-shirt, skinny as he was, there was still something so beautiful about the way he moved, the way he stood. And while you were usually able to push those thoughts away—because this beautiful man was your best friend, and there was so much more to him—sometimes, the thoughts still won. Sometimes, you had a very hard time understanding how someone like him could seek out someone like you, even for just a friendship. And now that your friendship had evolved in a much more physical way, you had no idea how he could be attracted to someone like you, someone so many notches under his level.

So when he reached for you the night before he went away, sneaking up behind you and wrapping his arms firmly around your waist, you enjoyed his embrace for the few seconds you could before those thoughts crept back into your mind. And when he pressed a kiss to your earlobe, a few to your jaw before tilting your chin back to lay his lips more firmly on yours, you let him. Because he almost made you believe. He broke away with a nip to your bottom lip, spinning you around and grabbing you more firmly by the waist, planting his lips on yours again. He groaned into it, but when his hands started to creep up your shirt, the freight train of self-consciousness slammed into you and you pulled away.

“Bill, I can’t…” you paused, swallowing hard, “I’m on my period.”

It was a lie, but it was an easy way out and one he wouldn’t ask questions about.

“Oh,” he said, and you caught the disappointment in his voice before he hid it behind a lopsided grin, “Okay.”

He kissed your nose, pulling you tighter against him.

“I can still hold you though, right?” He smiled at you and the beauty in it made you want to recoil, to pull away, physically remove his arms from around you because you weren’t worthy of it. But you forced a smile back.

“Of course,” you replied.

“Do you need anything?” He asked, ”Like are you…comfortable? Do you want a hot water bottle?”

You needed him to just….stop. To take his arms away from around you, and to just stop speaking, stop being so kind, compassionate, understanding.

When you went to bed that night, he drew your back into his chest, his arms looping around you as he tucked his face into your neck. He brought a hand to your front to press gently on your lower belly like he sometimes did for you to ease some of the pain, but you caught it in yours and pulled it away before it snuck under your shirt. You felt him shift, kissing you lightly on your cheek.

“Tiger?”

“Mmm?”

“Is everything okay?” He asked. Even that, his perceptiveness, his kindness, how gentle he was—you wanted to scream, to shake him, to ask him why he couldn’t see what everyone else clearly saw. That you weren’t worthy. That some other girl—someone prettier, smarter, thinner, more dainty, more feminine—some other girl would be much more better suited to him.

“Fine bud,” you replied instead, “Just grumpy.”

“Ok,” he snuggled closer against you, breathing you in, “I love you, kid.”

He was up early the next morning, his suitcase already packed at your place. He had given you space when you woke up with the same scowl on your face, but as the car pulled up in front to take him to the airport, he stood in front of you.

“Grumpy or not, get over it kid,” he said, “I’m not leaving here until I get a proper hug. So get your sad ass in my arms.”

“I’m not sad, Bill,” You huffed, rolling your eyes.

“Fine, then get your mad ass in my arms,” he quipped, and you crossed your arms defiance but he waved you over with two fingers. And he looked so cute, so relaxed, freshly shaved with his hair all floppy, and he smelled so good. So you did as he said, biting back the anger when he wrapped his arms so tightly around you, kissing your head, taking a big sniff of your hair. It shouldn’t be you. It should never have been you.

You tried to work on it while you had a week and a bit without him. Tried to bring him down a notch in your mind. But every time you tried, some memory of his kindness, of how he cared so deeply for you, of how beautiful he looked when he was laughing and so carefree, it all came flooding back. The first time you slept together, how he had been so focused on you and how he still focused on you, all these times later. How he always made sure you ate, worried about your comfort, if you were cold, if you felt safe. How he always asked you to text him when you got in if he knew you’d be out that night, even if you were thousands of miles away from him. How he just took care of you, of all of your needs, so completely and thoroughly.

A shitty few days at work, clothes that somehow started to just feel so much tighter around you, and terribly-angled photos of you from a fun night out that had you cringing were enough to put you in even worse of a headspace by the time he got back.

But when he walked in—his hair a little lighter from the sun, his skin a little more golden, his eyes a little more clear—he looked ethereal, and for just a few minutes, you let yourself be selfish. Because it was impossible not to feel his genuine happiness, his excitement at seeing you again, as he swooped in to lift you up. And when he set you back down on your feet, a soft kiss on your cheek turned into a few trailed on your jaw, a tentative one placed on the corner of your mouth. And when you responded just enough, he captured your lips in a searing kiss that left you weak in the knees. His lips were so soft, gliding against yours with confidence and passion and lust and gentleness all at the same time. And when he wound his arms tightly around you, groaning as he pulled at your shirt, there was such a hunger and neediness to him that you could convince yourself—if only for a few minutes—that he really did want nothing else. Nobody else.

He pulled away, lifting your shirt over your head and you scooted closer to his chest in hopes he wouldn’t get a good look at you. You were rewarded with that soft laugh of his you loved so much, the one that only seemed to come out in intimate times like these, and another deep kiss to your lips.

“I missed you too, tiger,” he teased, and then his hands stopped on your waist, making you flinch when he squeezed. This was it, maybe he had finally realized that your stomach was soft, squishy, that you had all these imperfections in droves when he was always surrounded by women who didn’t.

But when he pulled back to look you in the eyes, all you saw was concern and a light pink flush creeping on his cheeks.

“Are you still, uh….?” He bit his lip, his eyes shifting awkward. It took you a second to realize what he was asking—a pang of guilt at the reminder that you had lied to him to avoid his affections—but when you did, you managed a smile at his awkwardness.

“Bill, you left a week and a half ago,” you snickered, “Shark week is done, bud.”

“Oh thank god,” he sighed in relief and lifted you, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you to bed.

The feeling of his lips on you, his hands smoothing over your skin, the pleased noises he emitted, was almost enough to make your mind forget. Bill had that ability to make someone feel like they were the only one in the room, his attentions always focused solely on them. It would have empowered any normally confident woman, but the weight of it was suffocating to you.

You tried not to notice the way his taut muscles bunched under your hands, he was all hard lines and edges and beautiful tanned skin. You tried to ignore all the soft parts that his hands grabbed at, squeezed, kneaded gently as his lips followed in their path. It worked for awhile, in no time at all everything he made you feel became the only thing you could focus on and he had both of you climbing so quickly, building in a loud mess of moans and suckling kisses and panting breaths.

And when he tipped you over the edge—always making sure you finished before he did, and usually multiple times—his lips at your ear uttering praises that you didn’t deserve, his hands grabbing at parts of you that you hated, his chest heaving against yours, you wanted to recoil from him, push him away, cover yourself in blankets and cry and tell him to just leave.

So when he found his release immediately after yours, and when he brought his face to yours, bumping your nose as he smiled at your breathlessly with his eyes twinkling and a bead of sweat on his brow, laying a reverent kiss on your lips as he hummed happily….suddenly, you couldn’t take the crushing feeling of not being worth half the attentions that this beautiful man was always so ready to bestow on you. And you let it all come out. The stress, the anxiety, all the tortured feelings of the past few weeks slammed into the forefront of your brain and you couldn’t reel it in anymore.

When he collapsed onto you, you planted your hands on his chest and pushed him away. You pushed until he was on his haunches, looking at you in panic, as your tears started to flow and you scrambled to cover yourself with the blanket. You sobbed—heavy, racking sobs that bowed your shoulders.

“Tiger—hey, woah,” he said gently, reaching a hand tentatively out to you. You flinched, holding the blanket tighter around you. But he wouldn’t let up, slowly crawling towards you.

“Leave,” you choked out, because you couldn’t handle the worry in his eyes, the way he was being so careful with you.

“Please just go,” you whimpered.

“No,” he was back in front of you now, trying to look into your eyes, but you kept them downcast. He reached gently for your chin and you pulled it away.

“Tiger, did I hurt you?” His voice was so low it was almost a whisper, and you heard the regret, the sadness in his voice. You couldn’t even shake your head to reassure him.

“Kid, look at me. Please,” he pleaded, “Tiger, did I do something that you didn’t want?”

And your heart broke. You were having a full on meltdown, and Bill—your beautiful, empathic, gentle best friend that you loved more than anyone on Earth—immediately thought that it was his fault. It made you cry harder, curling in more on yourself. He shuffled closer, and then suddenly his arms were wound tightly around you and you were lifted onto his lap, his legs curling around you and his arms wound tightly around your back crushing you into his chest. You struggled, tried to push at him, but he had your arms pinned to your sides.

“Let go,” you tried to sound firm, but it came out as a broken sob.

“No,” he said, “You’re not okay.”

“I said let go,” you squirmed harder but it just made him hold you tighter as he pressed his lips into your hair.

“You have a safe word,” he reminded you gently, “Use it if you have to. Otherwise, I’m not letting go.”

He listened for it, knowing that if you uttered it, it would low and barely audible. But you didn’t say anything, so he just held you as you sobbed. He repositioned you so that you were straddling his waist and he leaned back against the headboard, burying his face in your neck and rubbing your back.

When you finally started to catch your breath, when you still heaved a bit but there were no more tears falling on his chest, he tried to cup your face to bring your eyes to his. But you resisted still, pulling away, and he let your bury your face back in his chest.

“Tiger,” he said as he stroked your hair, “Do you want to talk about it now?”

You shook your head, but it wasn’t enough.

“I need words, kid,” he reinforced, and he was using that tone of voice that you had a hard time defying. “Do you want to talk about it now?”

“No,” you whispered.

“Okay,” he yielded, “We don’t have to talk about it now. But we are going to talk about it, when you’re more ready. Yes?”

“Yes,” you mumbled.

“Good, kid,” he praised, “But I need to know two things. Can you give me an answer for just two things?”

“Yes,” and you nodded. His encouragement was helping you out of your headspace.

“Look at me,” he said, and his voice was gentle but still held that firm undertone. You did as he asked, begrudgingly bringing your eyes to his and your heart constricted when you saw the amount of concern and worry in his eyes. He ran his thumb across your cheek.

“Thank you,” he said when your eyes met his, “Are you hurt, tiger?”

“No,” you answered, and he rewarded you with a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Okay. Was it something I did?”

“No,” you replied honestly, and you tried to maintain eye contact to reassure him. You knew it would crush him if you were distressed because of something he did, and you owed him that confession. Owed him the peace of mind.

“You promise?”

“I promise,” you whispered, and you made a feeble attempt to push him away once more but he responded by squeezing you tighter.

“I’m going to keep holding you, okay? And if you want me to stop, you know what to say.”

But you didn’t want him to stop. You wanted tell him no, to push him away, to have him recoil like you thought he should. You wanted him to respond the way you thought he ought to, and it only made you sob harder when he didn’t.

“I love you, kid,” he murmured, “and I’m sorry you’re hurting. But we’ll fix it. Together. If you’ll let me help.”

#Leilani answers #BFF!Bill #BFF!Bill HC #BFF!Bill headcanon #bill skarsgard drabble #bill skarsgard

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soveryanon · 5 years

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Reviewing time for MAG144!

- I’m… really fond of the statement’s atmosphere, and Martin’s reading of it: he did emphasise a few words right at the beginning, giving them more heaviness, bloating them and completely installing the crushing dragging feeling of decay/dullness/spleen/boredom and degradation.

(And then: nervous laughter about the fact that OOOOOOOOOOOOOPS, the statement itself might have reminded Martin of some elements of his own personal life, uh. Caring for a sick (unsupportive) parent, getting stuck in a situation with them but worrying anyway (+ Gary Boylan feared that he would become his father and… well, We Know That Martin Looks Like His Dad), until the parent died on them while they were getting involved with Spooks.)

- So. There was a big emphasis, in the statement, about the code itself, and the fact that what lay behind was the actually horrifying things… but there was still a “message” and things actually struck when Gary Boyle understood it.

(MAG144, Gary Boylan) “I didn’t return to the pylon for a long time, except to confirm that the numbers weren’t changing between days. I had them though, and the numbers were all that mattered. I didn’t know why. I’m sure there wasn’t a reason, not really, but… I knew it was in there…! Realistically, it would be impossible to decode it without whatever key the cipher might have been using – and honestly, for the longest time, it seemed to be. I did as much reading as I could on cryptography, and codebreaking, and all of it seemed to point me towards one simple conclusion: breaking this code by myself was… simply impossible. But I still tried. I spent weeks in my room, desperately applying every method I had available. Nothing worked. But I didn’t stop. The alternative was looking after my dad, whose recent breathing issues had left him more ratty than ever. So, I worked myself into exhaustion instead, staring at those meaningless strings of numbers until I almost collapsed, and my eyes couldn’t focus on anything. And that was when I realised: it wasn’t the numbers. It wasn’t the code. It’s what was behind the numbers, shifting, and waiting, and–and coming towards me like a tidal wave – and I knew what the message was, the urgent and terrible message. About the destruction that was coming on the heels of mankind; about the cold and cruel warmongers who play their games of code, and conspiracy, hidden behind the endless streams of numbers. And within those numbers are all of our dooms. If you know how to read them. And I read them. I read them all, and saw the doom of everyone who lives, and breathes, and hopes for life and happiness. There are terrible things coming. Things that if we knew of them, would leave us weak, and trembling, with shuddering terror at the knowledge that they are coming for all of us. We all made them, and their course is already plotted. You can see them in the numbers. If you’d only learn how to read them.”

I wonder: did Gary himself power The Extinction (or whatever it is) with his own fears? Because it’s when he understood that a disaster was meant to happen that it… happened. If he had just carried on with his life, would it have happened? Or was everything set into motion because he heard the words and spiralled into dread/doom?

Because… if the code was, in the end, relevant and important… I’m kind of super-glad that MARTIN read this statement; and there is someone who should probably not read it ever. Because, who is canonically good at breaking down codes (probably through insta-translating Beholding abilities)…?

(MAG126) ARCHIVIST: … I remembered Gertrude’s notebook; we found it alongside the plastic explosives, but it rather got lost amongst the business of… [SIGH] saving the world at the cost of two lives… It… it’s borderline incomprehensible, not because of any code or cypher – there’s every chance I could read those; just simply because… most of it is… numbers or fragments of sentences that would no doubt mean something to her, but… well, not to me.

… Like, OOPS. I’m not sure it was a coincidence.

(…………. And if Martin read the numbers himself… will he be okay. Or is he unleashing… something, without being aware of it, too.)

- Aaaand we live in such a fandom that someone had already managed to decode the thing in half a day! The numbers:

593756 3058392846 4749 162830165049 564846474827

Actually formed the message “The World Is Always Ending”. Indeed less… personal than The End, here. (But the message itself is kind of… comforting? I mean, it’s like life overall: you know something is living because it’s heading towards its death. Of course the World/the Earth isn’t supposed to be permanent…? Or is it linked to the consciousness that we’re accelerating its decay, or that it absolutely disappearing would mean making things disappear as concepts, too – nobody, nothing, to remember anything, that anyone ever existed in the first place…?)

(- Amusingly, I did think of Beholding with Gary’s whole… stance:

(MAG144, Gary Boylan) “There was nothing to be done, nowhere to go – just watch, and wait, and think about the decay of it all.

And the fact that his main activity was to listen to the numbers. He kind of checked all three points of the Institute’s motto?

And why did he give his statement? It’s not always the case but, pretty often, statement-givers do explain why they wanted to share their stories – because they were seeking help, or pursued, or feared that they were suffering from hallucinations, etc. Here, it was as a… non-personal warning? But he spread the numbers and that doesn’t sound very good…)

- Gary did warn about the Danger of knowing (because it doesn’t help) but. But Beholding’s shtick is apparently also to cannibalise other Fears a bit by Knowing about them:

(MAG144, Gary Boylan) “There are terrible things coming. Things that if we knew of them, would leave us weak, and trembling, with shuddering terror at the knowledge that they are coming for all of us. We all made them, and their course is already plotted.”

(MAG032, Jane Prentiss) “There is no right word because for all your Institute and ignorance may laud the power of the word, it cannot even stretch to fully capture what I feel in my bones. What possible recourse could there be for me in your books and files and libraries except more useless ink and dying letters? I see now why The Hive hates you. You can see it and log it and note its every detail but you can never understand it. You rob it of its fear even though your weak words have no right to do so.”

Is that why Peter needed a Beholding-touched person? Because Beholding could understand the new fear and depower it a bit…?

- I did my usual relisten of “Binary”, since we got new information about The Extinction, and I’m still at a loss for that one and not… really feeling that it fits The Extinction? It feels more personal, more… people-oriented than concerning a community/the world? Or was the “message” of that one in the symbols appearing on Tessa’s computer and/or about the danger of Sergei’s fate possibly happening to others…? In Jon’s dreams, she’s seen typing furiously, trying to “fight” against the computer:

(MAG120) ELIAS: The Archivist waits, expecting to awaken, but there is nowhere for him to awaken to; no avenue of escape from these dreams. He turns to see the familiar screen, the familiar woman beneath it. She looks up at him with an expression of recognition and weary dread. She types, and types, and types her fingers a blur, flying across the keyboard, and yet never fast enough to outrun the relentless words that flow like dark water across the screen that stretches off into the sky. “It hurts.” She is shaking her head, defiant in her well-worn terror, and tries with every corner of her will to force back the rolling tide of words. “It hurts.”

Tessa’s reasoning about how a human brain isn’t made to fit in a computer, and that analog and digital operate differently, could fit The Extinction… but not the spooks she experienced herself, I feel? Was that just plain old regular Spiral, or something Web/Beholding, or The End? Or was it truly Extinction/the same larger fear that encompasses it?

- If we take “Binary” into account, there has been an acceleration of the manifestation of the Extinction through time:

* End of 1867: Garland Hillier disappears after a last publication, “Les Héritiers”, the same year Robert Smirke died (MAG134). [* 1983: According to the urban legend, Sergei Ushanka, who was dying, tried to upload his mind into a computer (MAG065).] * Some time before late 2005 (which is when Adelard Dekker heard about her): Bernadette Delcour entered Garland Hillier’s flat and witnessed the world of the Inheritors before managing to get out – Adelard suspects that she might have disappeared too, by January 2006 (MAG134). * In August 2009: Gary Boylan heard the “Numbers” track near a pylon somewhere in the English countryside; his father and neighbour were eradicated (MAG144). * Around 2012: Adelard didn’t think that The Extinction had begun to take Avatars yet (MAG113). [* Before January 7th 2017: Tessa Winters downloaded a program named “ushankasdespair.exe”, which forced her to watch him swallow his computer for 17 hours (MAG065).]

So, indeed giving the feeling that… something is getting closer and closer.

- Something that MAG134 and MAG144 have in common: the fact that the manifestations were linked to a form of communication (Garland’s diary and overall works, the numbers heard by Gary), in specific places (Garland’s flat, the pylon in Gary’s countryside), places that were specifically described as… frozen in time / unmoving compared to the world around them:

(MAG134, Adelard Dekker) “On the fifth floor of an apartment building on the rue Lagarde, near the Panthéon, some construction workers had uncovered a door, that had at some point in the past been completely plastered over. Removing the covering and breaking through the old wood revealed another apartment, one apparently unnoticed by any of the other residents, or indeed the owners of those sections of the building, each of which had assumed the space was owned by one of the others, and connected to a different part. As far as anyone was able to determine, the apartment had been sitting there, sealed and undisturbed, for almost a hundred and fifty years. It was untouched, pristine, with barely a thin layer of fine dust coating the possessions and belongings that had stayed there for so long. […] The place felt strange, she told me. Like a tiny pocket of another time. A bubble, where the world had never changed. And stepping inside, she almost felt like she would never change either. Even the light that came through the window seemed to be of a different quality, muted and gentle. The street chatter of Paris, which usually reaches all but the most remote of windows, seemed to vanish entirely. There was a sense of peace to it all, shot through with a strand of disquiet – a wrongness, she told me she could not identify, but she could almost smell it. […] Every single shrivelled ashened face was contorted in a scream of agony, every sharp and jutting jaw cracked and twisted in an expression of horror – of understanding not just of their death, but the end of everything they knew. It was clear that they had been this way for years, if not decades. Bernadette says she was sure that nothing had moved in that dead city for a hundred years.”

(MAG144, Gary Boylan) “Something kept me rooted there, sleeping in a bedroom that hadn’t changed since I was fifteen, and caring for a man who I’d rather just shut up…! [SIGH] We were both… trapped there, I think. Bound together in a sort of wordless misery. I would look at him, and see a grim sort of destiny for myself: trapped here, until I became him – any future I might have had, sacrificed to his. […] That summer seemed to drag on forever. The boredom and irritation of trying to care for my dad was only heightened by the weather, and we were both feeling it. Just didn’t have anything to do…! I don’t… really want to go into my living situation here, but it’s enough to say I wasn’t working a regular job and, while I could theoretically contact my old mates, they’d all got on with their lives without me. The world had moved on. … I was left behind.”

Places/people that feel like they can’t change or move forwards, while everything else does. (And we’ve had so many talks about people “changing” this season… Mmmmm…)

Note to self that with the beginning of the statement, I did wonder if it wasn’t Something Lonely – we were dealing with isolated places, the statement-giver was spending a lot of time alone and wasn’t… really connected to anybody, there was “the huge metal skeleton of an old disconnected power pylon” in the background – pylon which turned out to be the place where the numbers could be heard… So, mmmm… Why is Peter, avatar of The Lonely, specifically so invested in stopping that newcomer…?

- Outside of the RQ-extended-universe crossover inside-joke about “DOOOM”, I feel like Gary Boylan’s use of the word might be especially relevant because… he specifically differentiated it from “dread”.

(MAG144, Gary Boylan) “Do you know that one of the symptoms of a heart attack is literally a sense of impending doom? [INHALE] Well, I wasn’t having a heart attack, but I think I know what they mean…! What settled over me wasn’t dread; there wasn’t enough uncertainty for that. No. It was… doom. I was certain that some sort of disaster was on the horizon. […] And within those numbers are all of our dooms. If you know how to read them.”

… and “dread” was the word that Robert Smirke personally used to refer to the Fears:

(MAG138, Robert Smirke) “I have been blessed with a long life, something few who crossed paths with the Dread Powers can boast, but now… at the end of it, my true fear is that I have wasted it, chasing an impossible dream. […] I have been thinking, of late, about the first origin of the Dread Powers, if… such beings can really be said to have true origins. Are they eternal, or are they created from our own fear, by some grand accident – or, worse: some grand design? I believe the latter to be the case, as you well know, for I have in vain struggled to reconcile their creation with the existence of a Loving God.”

It's possible that Smirke’s vocabulary was… too restrictive, but I do wonder if… in context, it isn’t hinting that The Extinction-or-whatever-it-is isn’t actually a Fifteenth Fear, but something operating too differently from the others…?

- I’ll never get tired of Martin’s… little troubles when introducing statements – it never goes smoothly, he marks small pauses, has troubles reading the numbers, etc., compared to Jon’s… seamless professional voice (… except when some of his emotions are showing: sometimes impatience, sometimes… listen, when he introduced the statement in MAG129? He was still brooding SO MUCH after the disaster of a conversation he had had with Martin shortly before). In the same way, I… love how Martin’s own speculation is so awkward and potentially off the mark afterwards? Reminder that Martin barely remembered the name “Maxwell Rayner” in MAG098, and he sounded SO PROUD in MAG110 when he was able to guess that The Spooky Book Mentioned Had Probably Been A Leitner (“I mean… I think it sounds like a Jurgen Leitner book. About spiders. Hm.” mARTIN that was an easy guess… x””D); and in the same way, his conclusions in MAG138 were… a bit awkward compared to the content of the statement:

(MAG134) MARTIN: Anyway. Smirke was clearly wrong about the powers balancing each other, at least. I mean, i–it’s, [SHORT LAUGHTER] it’s obviously impossible. There’s too much variation in, in how much something is feared by people at any one time. And, and if that’s the case, I… suppose it’s… not impossible that Peter… [LONG PAUSE] might be telling the truth. I don’t know what he’s talking about when he mentions Millbank. The old prison, I guess? Tim said the tunnels under the Institute were all that was left of it, but… Jon said he’d checked them pretty thoroughly.

(M… Martin, what “other Millbank” do you think it could be, given the discussions/researches in the Archives………………….) To his credit, he was trying to guess why Peter had given him this statement, so he had a certain Way Of Looking At Things, but. Still. Smirke’s statement wasn’t really about the “variations” of how people experience fear(s)…? And in the same way:

(MAG144) MARTIN: Statement ends. [CLEARS THROAT] [INHALE, EXHALE] … Right. Another… statement. Another side to… Peter’s “Extinction”. I think. I… Y– I– [HUFF] I, I couldn’t follow some of his reasoning, but I think it was about… nuclear weapons, or… or maybe doomsday’s weapons…? In keeping with the theme, I suppose.

Martin miiight be paying too much attention to concreteness and things he Already Knows, and failing hard to essentialise and theorise…? Obviously, yes, the symptoms evoke the destruction caused by nuclear weapons, both in MAG134 and MAG144 (destruction, corpses melting/being absolutely blasted), but the Fear itself… is something broader, probably? (So: is he accidentally absolutely spot-on? Or totally off the mark, and the fact that he went with “nuclear weapons” mean it isn’t this, at all?)

- ;; It has been a constant in season 4 when we have Martin’s statements and Jon’s statements: they… would both progress much better if they had access to each other’s statement.

MAG134’s (Smirke’s letter to Jonah) would have helped Jon to define a bit more Jonah’s whole character, after MAG127, and potentially retrace what happened to him – Jon labelled him as already “evil” in the 1830s, but turned out that he had apparently taken a step back, before falling deeper into Beholding shortly before 1867, apparently because he was afraid to die (… does that remind you of something, Jon?). Plus, indication towards the Watcher’s Crown. Meanwhile, Jon… learned that Adelard had helped Gertrude to stop The Flesh’s ritual in 2008, and could have pointed out a few old statements: MAG078 where Adelard tried to trap the Not!Them with the table and, more importantly, MAG113 where Adelard mistook an End avatar for an Extinction thing (… and we’re still not sure What The Heck “Binary” was, but Jon could have pointed to MAG065… in case Tessa’s experience was related). And Jon could maybe just Know a few things, and help overall.

But they don’t communicate, they’re in their own bubbles, and information isn’t getting shared right now. (Though Martin was planning to communicate his tapes to Jon… MAG138, especially, could be helpful to deal with the Institute on its own…)

- I love Jon’s reading, alright, and I love Martin’s too for different reasons. He tends to put more emphasis in words, bloating some here and there? He gets so nasal sometimes? So casually sassy? Jon often has an edge, but Martin… Martin feels Less Charitable in his delivery and I love it. AND I ESPECIALLY LOVED:

(MAG144, Gary Boylan) “Something kept me rooted there, sleeping in a bedroom that hadn’t changed since I was fifteen, and caring for a man who I’d rather just shut up…!”

That. That “Shut up!” was so Beautiful And Martin.

- I’M SO EMOTIONAL OVER THE FACT THAT DAISY AND MARTIN ARE BECOMING KINDA FRIENDS WITH MAG142 AND MAG144… and then kinda nop. But the fact that Daisy was comfortable enough to come back, to share with Jon that she had talked with Martin, and that she wanted to give information about him (/them) to Martin in return… ;w;

(MAG144) [KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.] MARTIN: [SHORT SHAKY INHALE] [SILENCE] [KNOCK–KNOCK–KNOCK] MARTIN: [RUFFLING PAPER] Come in. [DOOR OPENS.] DAISY: Mind if I join you? [SCRIBBLING SOUNDS START.] [DOOR CLOSES] DAISY: They’re back. I thought you might wanna know. [INHALE] Seems like it went smooth – too smooth for Basira, sounds like. Keeps looking at Jon like she can’t believe he made it back. [SILENCE] I, uh… I mentioned our conversation to him; he asked me to check on– MARTIN: Just leave. DAISY: Sorry? MARTIN: [INHALE] Get out. DAISY: Oh. Right. Sorry, I didn’t– MARTIN: It’s not difficult! Just get out! DAISY: Fine. … Fine. Just thought you– MARTIN: No! No, you didn’t! [DOOR OPENS.] We’re not… we’re not friends, Daisy! None of us are! We’re all just trapped together, here, and–and kidding ourselves that we don’t hate it! Christ, there are more important things than, than “feelings”– DAISY: [INCREDULOUS EXHALE] MARTIN: –right now, alright, so just… leave me alone! For good! [SILENCE PUNCTUATED BY AGGRESSIVE SCRIBBLING NOISES] DAISY: … Right. You got it. [DOOR CLOSES]

The things Martin said… were very reminiscent of Tim’s own reasoning (and the overall idea that Tim… did feel trapped, and insisted on it, and was adamant about reminding everyone of that fact):

(MAG079) TIM: There is something in this place, and it’s messing up our heads. It watches us all the time. It stops me quitting. I’m pretty sure it would stop Elias firing Jon even if he decided to actually try running this place for once. MARTIN: You’re sure you don’t just want to stay? TIM: I’m. sure. MARTIN: But, like, deep down– TIM: No. MARTIN: … Oh. […] TIM: I… I’m not just going to leave you down here. MARTIN: You were all about quitting. TIM: Oh, for God’s sake, this isn’t about you. MARTIN: It never is. TIM: Alright, fine. Fine. What do you want? What’s your light at the end of these spooky damn tunnels? And don’t say “everyone happy forever”, because that’s not happening. … Well? MARTIN: I don’t know. I don’t know! I want to find out what’s going on. I want to save Jon. I want everyone to be fine and, you know what? If we were all happy that wouldn’t actually be the end of the world!

(MAG102) ARCHIVIST: Does the rest of the Institute know what’s going on down here? I mean, I never really paid attention, but… MARTIN: N–not really? I think? I mean, Tim’s been going on about it to anyone who listens, but I think they just… think he’s had a bit of a breakdown. ARCHIVIST: Well, I mean… MARTIN: I mean, they can quit.

And it also was a bit reminiscent of Gary Boylan’s own situation in his statement (MAG144: “We were both… trapped there, I think. Bound together in a sort of wordless misery.”). I’m not sure, then, that we should believe everything Martin told Daisy, especially since he pointed out to Peter that he had purposely wanted to drive Daisy away… partially to prevent Peter from wooshing her:

(MAG144) [VERY SHARP SQUEAL OF DISTORTION] MARTIN: [LONG SIGH] … Well? PETER: I’m impressed! And grateful. MARTIN: I didn’t do it for you. PETER: Even better. MARTIN: … It’s easier, this way. I’m sure you’d have had no problem sending her away. PETER: I hadn’t really thought about it. And now, thanks to you, I don’t need to. MARTIN: Yeah, well. It seems to be your go-to move for dealing with anyone.

He… did tell Daisy that there were “more important things than feelings right now”, and it’s heart-breaking when taking into account that he AGGRESSIVELY (and so beautifully snappily.) wanted people to be Happy at the end of season 2… but I want to Believe in Martin being good at Manipulating people in the direction he wants. Martin has a history of weaponising his own feelings when it served his purpose: he knows how to use them against others, and it’s precisely how he managed to make Elias do exactly what he needed, in MAG118 – it’s because he had Feelings that it worked. But at the same time, I do think a bit of truth might be sneaking out, even in this case, and that Martin’s own bitterness… might be showing some of his true feelings, too. To put it more simply: I heard the exchange and Martin making Daisy leave as a conscious move from his part, focusing on the goal… but I’m not sure that all of his words were faked and false. And that might be another danger of The Lonely, too? That Martin pushing people away and thinking he is in control… might lead to him falling deeper into The Lonely, because he’s cutting ties and working alone. There is something so dangerous in thinking that you’re friends with people, that you care for them… while you refuse to share anything anymore with them, push them away constantly, only know them from afar and dread more and more to interact with them. And I’m not sure that Martin is taking that into account as much as he should. What is the point of sacrificing himself to protect others if it makes everyone miserable in the process, including him?

- One glimmer of hope is that it had been pointed out, during their last interaction, that Daisy was “observant”:

(MAG142) MARTIN: … Yeah. [LONG INHALE] I suppose. [LONG EXHALE] You’re… you’re pretty observant, you know? DAISY: Detective, remember? MARTIN: Yeah, you did mention.

Daisy showed that she was good at paying attention, reading people and their feelings. So she might be able to correctly interpret what Martin said, and guess that… Peter was around. Martin did talk like a hostage trying to make another bystander leave before they’d get involved (he’d sounded like that with Jon, already, in MAG129).

(But I’m worried that Daisy might feel let down by him at the same time, and take his words at face value despite it all? ;;)

(… Another option: MAG142 ended with the tape recorder being cut off, while Martin and Daisy were still together and talking. So it’s possible that they strategised a bit after that about how to act/behave, and about the fact that Peter can turn invisible, and that Daisy knows a bit more about Martin’s whole situation. I don’t know ;; I’m stupidly hoping that Team Archives could finally manage to… plan together… and achieve things…)

- I’m so glad that Daisy has been around……………… She tried to act as a bridge between Jon and Martin, between the two Main Threads of the season 4, and? It’s really not what you would have expected from her when she first appeared in MAG061, and with her whole attitude in season 3, aaaaah…

(- And OOPS over the fact that Martin, who had decided to be cold and dry since the beginning of their scene (aggressively scribbling and pointedly… not making it sound like he’s available: the message was clearly that he was busy and she was bothering him and unwanted)… snapped and exploded and cut her off when she mentioned Jon and Jon using Daisy to get to him. Aouch. Is it that he’s unallowed anything Jon as far as Peter is concerned? Or because Martin really wants to prevent Peter from focusing on Jon?)

(- Also! Martin was chill with Daisy talking with him in MAG142, but not here in MAG144. Is it because now, he likes Daisy and wants to protect her, while he didn’t care in MAG142 because… he didn’t know much about Daisy’s actual personality outside of The Hunt? Or is it because Martin is beginning to be able to tell when Peter is spying on him, and when he isn’t? He directly addressed Jon through the tape at the end of MAG138, implying that he assumed that he was safe from Peter back then (he tried to lure him out and Peter didn’t manifest… but that wasn’t a guarantee). Here, he didn’t slip anything and was expecting Peter to pop up, from the start. So: can he feel it, now?)

- Peter’s logic is… so frightening:

(MAG144) PETER: I’m impressed! And grateful. MARTIN: I didn’t do it for you. PETER: Even better. MARTIN: … It’s easier, this way. I’m sure you’d have had no problem sending her away. PETER: I hadn’t really thought about it. And now, thanks to you, I don’t need to. […] Oh! Speaking of which: I’ve had a report of a workplace dispute in the library, and I would value your input. I’m trying to get out of the habit of, what did you call it…? “Sending them away”? MARTIN: [SIGH] … Fine.

It’s… really that Martin is trapped in this situation where only he can damage-control Peter, and they both know it, and Peter uses it fully to get Martin close and wrapped around his little finger, too (although Martin still snaps a lot and nags Peter and unleashes his pettiness at him in return). And Martin had already told Jon, during their last exchange:

(MAG129) ARCHIVIST: At least, The Eye hasn’t gone after our own. Lukas has vanished two people! MARTIN: Yeah, and if it wasn’t for me, it would’ve been a lot more. [SILENCE] This isn’t helping anything.

And… Martin was right back then ;; (And Peter probably wooshed these two people just for Martin to know that he could prevent it if he just… complied and stayed around and kept a close eye on Peter and did all his work. Martiiiiiin, you’re so absolutely stuck in an abusive relationship…)

- (not) SMOOTH, PETER, (not) SMOOTH:

(MAG134) PETER: Martin… My patron, hopefully our patron someday, doesn’t give me any sort of special insights. I’m not quite the accomplished voyeur that Elias was. I have to keep tabs on things the old-fashioned way. MARTIN: What, turning invisible and eavesdropping? PETER: If you like. But… I’m only one person, and I can’t keep an eye on everything.

(MAG138) MARTIN: I think he wants me to join The Lonely. ELIAS: Then it sounds like you have a decision to make.

(MAG144) PETER: I’m just not big on confrontation. You understand, I’m sure. MARTIN: We. Are not. The same. PETER: Of course. […] MARTIN: So what’s our next step? PETER: For you, keep researching. I’m sure we haven’t found all the statements in here that deal with The Extinction yet. One of the downsides of not serving The Ceaseless Watcher is that we have to actually look things up. Not to… mention the fact that Gertrude was distressingly good at obfuscation. The more you know about our enemy, the better.

… he slightly stressed that last “we” and it sounds like he absolutely does count Martinas being on the same side as him now and… not much as a Beholding agent? Getting hunches and being directed towards statements is Jon’s thing but the way Peter was dividing Beholding things and how he himself (and Martin alike) has to operate was a bit striking… ;;

(- On that note: I’m curious about how Peter mentions that Gertrude “was distressingly good at obfuscation” – we knew that already, right, but… Adelard’s letter in MAG113 (circa 2012) explicitly stated that Gertrude was “dismissive” of the possibility of a New Threat, and Adelard had chronologically already labelled it as The Extinction to her (MAG134’s letter is from 2009). Yet, Peter is assuming that Gertrude hid the information around the new Fear on purpose? Is it because Peter doesn’t know (yet) about the fact that Gertrude didn’t believe in it (and Gertrude might have accidentally labelled this and that statement with other Fears’ stamps), or did Gertrude… actually get more concerned about it, in her last years, and hide information on purpose…?)

- Re: Peter’s distaste for Confrontation and his implications that Martin is the same… it makes sense as a Lonely thing, but also: it… isn’t Very Martin, in fact? Because Martin held back, but he also did end up confronting people here and there – exploding at Jon in MAG039, nagging him into eating, orchestrating The Intervention, and trying to get him to talk to Tim in season 2, exploding in front of Tim in MAG079, literally confronting Elias in MAG118. But at the same time: it’s true that it Takes A Lot for Martin to finally snap.

But the thing about being non-confrontational is not exclusively Lonely and I’m reminded of these moments in relation to Martin:

(MAG138) MARTIN: … What? [HUFF] That’s it? No, no monologue, no mindgames? You love manipulating people! ELIAS: That makes two of us.

(MAG128, Breekon) “The Spider’s always an easy job – no fuss, no complication, everything planned and prepared. It knows too much to truly be a Stranger, but hides its knowing well enough to endure.”

So mmmmmm, I might be grasping at straws and I still want to hope about Web!Martin but. What Martin is doing can still perfectly be read as absolutely Web-y: not confronting and mostly getting people where and how he wants them, making them believe they are the ones in control of their own actions and decisions, while hiding in plain sight.

- I’m… so sorry for Martin, why is your life SO HARD baby:

(MAG138) MARTIN: Great. Great, great. So, what you’re [NERVOUS LAUGHTER] actually saying is that you’re gonna be… no help whatsoever! ELIAS: … Just like old times~ MARTIN: I don’t know what I expected.

(MAG144) MARTIN: You’re not just going to tell me, maybe? PETER: When have I ever? MARTIN: [LONG-SUFFERING SIGH]

Martin had to deal with BOTH of them, do you even realize how shitty his life is? He got the Worst Of Elias, and he’s been dealing with Peter for months, and They’re Just The Same. (Lonely Eyes rubbing off on each other, I GUESS? :w)

(- On that nsfw note:

(MAG144) MARTIN: And you? PETER: I have my own explorations I need to attend to. […] I’m absolutely delighted with your progress, and I feel you’ve earned some straight answers. MARTIN: But not from you. PETER: Oh, no. That sort of conversation makes me very uncomfortable.

1°) “Straight” (answers) make Peter uncomfortable 2°) Peter has his “own explorations” to take care of

… was that a reference to Elias, Peter.)

- The Dark is (presumably) dealt with so now, we’re getting new Questions in the Speculation Game, namely: who is Peter’s “friend”?

(MAG144) PETER: I have my own explorations I need to attend to. And a, hum… meeting. To arrange. For you…! MARTIN: For me? PETER: I’m absolutely delighted with your progress, and I feel you’ve earned some straight answers. MARTIN: But not from you. PETER: Oh, no. That sort of conversation makes me very uncomfortable. No, I’m owed a favour by a friend of mine. I’ve asked him to stop by, when he’s back in the country. MARTIN: You’re not just going to tell me, maybe? PETER: When have I ever? MARTIN: [LONG-SUFFERING SIGH] PETER: Oh, come now. What would life be without the occasional twist?

It’s a “he”. People we’ve heard about that I’m considering:

* Mikaele Salesa: we got reminded of his existence in MAG141, and he’s been revealed to be Officially Dead… through a third-hand account, who never saw the body, and it was after retrieving an item with an unknown purpose (but a broken camera lens… brought me to mind Beholding or Dark stuff, and something allowing you to conceal instead of revealing?). We know that Peter and Salesa were on good enough terms, back in MAG066, for them to… bet on whether someone would survive getting accidentally stuck in one of Salesa’s items, and he looked a bit relieved that the dude hadn’t died, so Peter opening the crate sounded like he was doing him a favour => could be the one Peter is referring to, or something else, but at least, they know each other, they both are Sailors People, etc., so learning a bit more about how they came to be acquaintances/them working on some projects together would make sense.

* Simon Fairchild: Peter said that his friend would be “back in the country” and we know that Simon Fairchild, who travels a lot, is actually from Hackney (if it’s the same con artist who was active in the 1930s that Jon had worked on, as he mentioned in MAG051). The Lukases and Fairchilds participated together in the Daedalus project, both “families” (Gerry told us that while the Lukases are about bloodlines, Fairchilds are… more of a brand?) are filthy rich, and, overall, Jon jinxed it back in MAG124 when he spat that “I do not think I ever wish to meet him.”

* Adelard Dekker…? I would be very surprised if he had been on friendly terms with Peter, but then, we don’t know much about Adelard (he tended to save people or prevent more victims when he was around… but it was more about neutralising threats than caring much about collateral damages: he did use explosives to stop The Flesh’s ritual). I’m kinda expecting Adelard to either have turned into an Extinction avatar by present time, or have been killed researching it, or have been killed… by Peter, hence Peter knowing so much about his researches but not asking for his help in tracking down his statements. (I had also considered at some point that MMM, what if Adelard and Peter are actually the same person under aliases…? But they’re both Rare Cases of characters who have had official descriptions: Peter is very pale even for a white man, while Adelard is a Black man. So nah.)

* Oliver Banks…? I’m not suggesting him because I love this sneaky little shit and would love to hear him more – er, not only because of it. But overall, Peter was able to explain to Martin why The End had never tried a ritual attempt and wasn’t interested in it, while he wasn’t as certain of The Web’s motivations for doing the same (and not carrying out its ritual)… so that could fit with him being actually pretty well acquainted with an End avatar as an inside source. Not banking (get it? get it?) on it, but. (Also, canonically handsome mlm Oliver never met Tim (as far as we know), which is a shame, but. Martin is still right here. And Oliver knows a bit about Jon’s dreams and overall situation with the Spiders. So could be an interesting encounter.)

* Another Lukas…? Peter said “friend”, though, but I’m pretty sure he would call Martin a “friend” to someone else if asked, and they’re not friends. (… This sentence sounds like SF’s Trexel.)

* I’m trying to “be in Peter’s head” and imagine what it would take for him to use that wording, and: I’m not expecting it at all, because I think he… won’t be relevant ever aside from what we were told in MAG118. But. But if Peter’s “friend” was actually Martin’s dad, this is probably the wording he would use, and it would be awful.

- So we got an update and Basira&Jon made it “home” safely:

(MAG144) DAISY: They’re back. I thought you might wanna know. [INHALE] Seems like it went smooth – too smooth for Basira, sounds like. Keeps looking at Jon like she can’t believe he made it back. [SILENCE] I, uh… I mentioned our conversation to him; he asked me to check on–

We technically don’t know how long it took them through Helen’s corridors, but presumably not much time. (… Martin had apparently felt like he had been stuck with Tim in Michael’s for weeks, although it was actually at most a day or two? He did spit that it had been “weeks” at Elias but we know the dates at the end of season 2 / beginning of season 3, it can’t have been weeks.)

Why is Basira surprised that Jon managed to make it back…? Is it because she thinks he should be dead from the Dark Sun…? (Because… I would expect Basira to be surprised that she herself made it back – and we had confirmation that she wasn’t planning to get rid of Jon against The Dark, since she tried to convince him to not Try To Get Himself Killed and even suggested that leave a potential threat untouched, in MAG143… So why the focus on Jon?) Daisy interacted with him and didn’t mention anything amiss, so I doubt he got blinded, in any case?

In summary: we’ve… been cut-out from Jon’s POV since MAG139/MAG140 and Jon Still Remains A Mystery – what is he thinking, when did he begin to forcefully torture and extort live-statements from innocent people (… if it was indeed him in MAG142 and not the rib he gave to Jared mutating or something)? Martin has been gradually taking more importance, in season 4: he was barely seen at first (MAG124, MAG129), began to have his moments alone/with Peter (MAG126), went back to reading statements (MAG134, MAG138, MAG144) and to having episodes solely dedicated to him interacting with people and wondering about his own researches (MAG138 when he first visited Elias, MAG142 when he received the Unnamed Female Victim’s complain). Martin’s episodes are getting more and more frequent, to the point of… alternating with “Jon”’s episodes since we came back from the hiatus. While Jon’s own thoughts are currently hidden to us, Martin has been more transparent and has received focus of his own. He’s stepping up as a protagonist, right now… and it could be the sign that we’re meant to lose Jon (whether because he would die-die or die-as-Jon) soon…?

(- Last time Martin and Jon interacted was fifteen episodes ago, in MAG129 (holy Mew) and… at this point, I’m doubting more and more that if they do interact ever again, it would go… well. Whether because Peter is in the room and Martin pulls the same thing he did with Daisy (shouting at her until she left, screaming/pretending/maybe being more honest than he thought about his own bitterness), or because Martin takes into account what he’s been told by the woman in MAG142, or… anything. Even if Jon picks up, like the fandom did, on the fact that he’s been led by Elias to experience other Fears and that the Lonely is missing… pointing out to Martin that Martin is possibly meant to be the one inflicting the Lonely on him, and that Peter’s schemes were mostly to keep Martin occupied and push him towards the Lonely to have an effect on Jon… would be devastating for Martin? It’s still a possibility (though I personally do believe that there IS indeed a new threat, whether it’s The Extinction or… something else, that they’ve all been misinterpreting), and it was brought up, whether it’d be true or not, I can’t imagine Martin reacting well to the thought that he’d have only been used and never mattered in the first place. How could Jon and Martin even interact, nowadays? Jon has already told Martin that he missed him. Daisy implied that Jon sent her to check on him. Martin knows that Jon is worried and cares – he knows, and it’s not enough, because there is the new threat and Peter to deal with at the moment. And in the meantime, Jon has apparently fallen deeper into Beholding than we previously thought. How could they even find a common ground after this…? (………………… except by sharing mourning over Tim and Sasha, I guess. I miss Tim.)

Title for MAG145 is out and OOOOH BOY. Obviously, it brings to mind the whole content of MAG139 and Jon’s tirade at the end – AND it screams “Corruption statement” (finally!! baby is maybe finally making it into season 4!!). We have a link between Desolation and Corruption through Diego’s beliefs in “Asag” (who contained both aspects), and the fact that Arthur Nolan had been “demoted” from cult leader to The Hive’s landlord and… we still don’t know the story behind that. But I’m not sure we would dig into Desolation/Agnes-related matters so soon, since Eugene had explained that they had lost their chance for their ritual for a few decades – it’s not an urgent matter for Jon, I doubt he’ll keep investigating right now, after having just confirmed that they aren’t a current threat? So, mmm, things I’m considering:

- Jon digging into Corruption/Desolation history again anyway.

- Jon digging into the Corruption to check if they got their ritual attempt – it’s missing on our list, could have been what the worms were trying to do in the tunnels but we still don’t know… and overall, we don’t know a lot about how Corruption operates past independent avatars (The Hive/Jane Prentiss, and John Amherst, Maggie/Gordie): would a ritual be carried out by a lonesome avatar, or would it need a collaboration between many?

- Another of Gertrude’s tapes, this time about The Corruption and their plans for a ritual? Because perhaps the double meaning of the title could… be about her own thoughts (since we already had a look at Jon’s own in MAG139).

- MELANIE digging into Corruption-related matters to track down (or establish what happened to him, if he’s dead) John Amherst’s moves after MAG036/MAG055’s reports.

As for the second meaning: I doubt it would be about Martin, and I’m not sure if it can be about Jon again so soon after MAG139 (unless… it’s about Something Else, ie Jon, what are your current thoughts about The Watcher’s Crown. Have you never mentioned that you wanted to stop it because you’re afraid of negative repercussions if you say it outright, or because you actually do not not want to prevent it.)… so, the assistants about Jon? Or about Martin, since he chased Daisy away? Or an overall realisation that they thought they were doing their own things, but have probably been played by Elias all through season 4?

#1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #the magnus archives #tma liveblog #tma season 4 #mag144 #long post/

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monday--vibes · 5 years

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Forcefully Optimistic: Spider-Man’s Exit From the MCU… Might Not Be Completely Terrible?

I’m not a big lover of Disney as a corporation, but there’s no denying that they’ve done some pretty amazing things with the MCU. So when the news first broke about this little lover’s spat between Sony and Disney over everyone’s web-slinging spider-child, I was (appropriately) devastated.

Then, because I both have no life and have a great love of knowing things, I started digging, sorting out the facts and the speculation and then taking a good, long look at what this means for Peter Parker and the Spider-Man franchise.

And I realize… maybe—just maybe—this isn’t completely horrible.

Let’s break it down.

The Facts:

As is the case with anything that changes and develops super-fast, there’s a lot of uncertainty and incorrect information floating around, but here are the facts that everyone can seem at agree on.

Tom Holland is still under contract to appear as Peter Parker/Spidey in a third Spider-Man movie; Jon Watts is being considered as the director for this third movie but, as his contract wrapped up with Far From Home, this isn’t a sure thing.

Under the current contract, Sony has the distribution rights of and creative control over Spider-Man and Spider-Man related characters; Disney, meanwhile, receives 5% of first-dollar gross (meaning that Disney would get 5% of ticket sales, no matter if Sony made a profit or not) and the right to include Spidey in the MCU. Disney already owns all the merchandizing rights for the character.

Disney also suggested that it get involved in other Spidey-related movies, including the Venom sequel. (For a price, of course.)

Under the contract initially proposed by Disney, the two companies would co-finance future Spider-Man movies, essentially splitting both costs and box office revenue 50/50. Therefore, while Sony would have to pay less to produce future films, the company would take a huge cut to their profits and would loose a considerable amount of control over Spider-Man and the related characters.

There are rumours that Disney has come back to play, offering a six picture deal wherein Disney would co-finance all Spider-Man related films, splitting costs and box office revenue either 30/70 or 25/75 split in Sony’s favour. Right now, neither company has confirmed this.

Sources:

https://www.businessinsider.com/sonys-spider-man-deal-with-disney-and-marvel-studios-explained-2019-8

https://www.vox.com/culture/2019/8/20/20825631/spider-man-marvel-sony-dispute-mcu-deal-film-rights

https://deadline.com/2019/08/kevin-feige-spider-man-franchise-exit-disney-sony-dispute-avengers-endgame-captain-america-winter-soldier-tom-rothman-bob-iger-1202672545/

https://boundingintocomics.com/2019/08/23/rumor-marvel-and-disney-offer-new-deal-to-sony-to-keep-spider-man-in-mcu/

The Speculation:

In Endgame, we saw the metaphorical baton being passed on to the next generation of superheroes as Black Panther, Captain Marvel, and—yup—Spider-Man played the most high-stakes game of Hot Potato ever while trying desperately to get the Infinity Stones to the Quantum Tunnel. This cemented Peter as one of Marvel’s new Big Three, meant to replace Iron Man, Captain America, and Thor.

It also, when combined with the current contract between Sony and Disney and the commercial success of Homecoming, Far From Home, and just about every other Marvel movie ever, undoubtedly resulted in Sony laughing all the way to the bank.

After all, it was their intellectual property that Disney just set up as a cornerstone for future Marvel movies.

However, Sony is also in the rather precarious position where its most valuable franchise, by far, is Spider-Man. Far From Home racked in twice as much money on its opening weekend than Sony’s second most successful film of 2019, Once Upon a Time in Hollywood. The latest installment of Men In Black, which was made by Sony-owned Columbia Pictures, has yet to break even at the theatres (and, at this rate, it probably won’t).

Source: https://www.boxofficemojo.com/studio/chart/?view2=release&view=parent&studio=sony.htm

Plus, Sony’s had a pretty spotty history with Spider-Man movies—the Raimi trilogy saw a steady decrease of gross revenue across all three films, and The Amazing Spider-Man, directed by Marc Webb, were… not received kindly. Let’s leave it at that.

Venom, for all that it was a box office success that racked in more than US$ 850 million over the course of its run, was pretty much summed up as ‘meh’ by critics, making the success of its sequel not the shoe-in that Sony would surely like. The only Spider-Man movie that’s been an absolute critical success was Into the Spider-Verse.

And, even though Sony has a whole slew of Spider-Man related movies announced, including Morbius and a Venom sequel, they’re still missing their star character—the web slinger himself.

There’s no way that Disney isn’t aware of this, of course, and considering how successful they’ve made the Marvel brand, plus and their ability to churn out (mostly) decent superhero movies year after year, it’s clear that they have an edge over Sony on that front.

However, if Into the Spider-Verse’s critical success and Venom’s financial success are any indication, it’s also clear that Sony’s been paying attention and taking notes—at least as far as superhero films are concerned. This contract breakdown could be the perfect(?) opportunity for Sony to bring Holland’s Spider-Man under their own brand, using Marvel’s successful adaptation of Peter Parker to help bolster their own Spidey Cinematic Universe.

The “Why It Might Not Be Completely Horrible”:

Whew. That was long. Okay… Let’s keep going.

Right now, we’re in this really not-good point in time where companies are merging and consolidating faster than ever. In some ways this is good, because we get standardized service across different brands and we get the possibility of an X-Men/Avengers crossover.

In other, bigger ways, though, it’s… very much not-good.

1. Oligopolies are bad for creativity.

Oligopolies are the business version of oligarchies, where a small group of people (corporations) hold all the power. Sound familiar?

Right now, Disney owns the rights to all the Marvel characters (except Spider-Man), which according to the Marvel Database Wikia, is more than 60,000 characters. The only other big player out there for superhero movies is, of course, Warner Brothers, which owns the DCEU. You can’t get much more of an oligopoly than that.

Adding one more player to the mix—Sony—doesn’t help this problem much, but it does help to distribute the characters out, giving movie goers more ways to vote with their dollars if a major company makes something that they don’t like.

Big corporations only really care about one thing: lots and lots of dollar signs. When consumers don’t have a choice where they get their consumables from, those corporations know that they’ll make money no matter what, and so they have no reason to innovate and no reason to push their creativity.

And, they don’t have any reason to listen to consumer wants or needs, either.

The result? Complacent corporations, consumers who are ignored, and a stagnant movie culture.

2. Marvel is bowing under its own weight.

With 23 movies, five discontinued series on Netflix, plus at least seven more Marvel series set to stream on Disney+, the MCU is easily one of the biggest movie franchises out there. And that doesn’t even count all the preludes, novelizations, and other add-ons.

My point is, the MCU is really, really big, and all of this bloat is starting to show.

The most recent example of this is in Far From Home, when Fury brings Peter to the underground layer and we first meet Mysterio. When Peter asks why Dr. Strange, Thor, or Captain Marvel aren’t involved in handling the Elemental threat, Fury flippantly tosses out a series of vague excuses.

And we only cover three characters, too. If Strange isn’t available, but we’re still dealing with a guy who—it seems, at least—is wielding magic, why can’t Wong step in to help? Or at least consult? Why not call in Scarlet Witch?

We see this in Endgame, too, in the final fight scene. While it’s a great scene, I’ve heard a lot of people question why Carol Danvers even needed help getting the Infinity Stones to the Quantum Tunnel, or why she couldn’t be the one to snap her fingers. After all, she took the full force of a single Stone when she was fully human and ended up fine, so why wouldn’t she be able to withstand (or withstand better than very-human Tony) the radiation let off why the Snap?

Sure, this sounds like nitpicking, but it’s a problem that’s going to have to be addressed over and over again as we see more MCU films. Why is this character facing this conflict? Why can’t another, better suited character handle the problem instead?

As writers, we should always be asking why we’re putting a certain character in a certain situation—it’s one of the ways to ensure that our plot is an effective one. However, if the answer is “because if I put another character in their place, the plot would be resolved too quickly”… perhaps the conflict or the character choice needs to be revisited.

3. Peter’s never been allowed to stand on his own two feet.

This new, younger, less mature Peter is an absolute delight on screen, and Holland does a fantastic job bringing him to life. In particular, this worked really well for Homecoming. As the first movie that really focuses on how the ‘regular’ world is affected by the Avengers, it’s interesting to see how this happy-go-lucky teenager sees a world that is, once we really get to explore it, surprisingly different from the real world we live in.

However, the MCU has since spent most of its time exploring what makes Peter special, as opposed to what makes him so relatable—one of the very things that made him such a popular character to begin with.

With Thanos’, the Vulture’s, and Mysterio’s motivations being completely unrelated to Spider-Man’s own motivations in the movies, he doesn’t ever have to question his own motivations, opinions, attitudes, or beliefs, meaning that he doesn’t have to grow.

And when the conflict of the movie does catch up with him, he doesn’t have to think his way out of things in the same way that his comic book counterpart or previous movie iterations have always had to do—someone else will always show up. In Homecoming, it was Iron Man; in Endgame, it was Danvers; and in Far From Home, it was Happy.

And, because these MCU Spider-Man movies all always working within the confines of a larger universe, they have to always spend time setting up conflict for other characters and other movies. This takes away valuable screen time that could otherwise be spent deepening his relationship with other characters, allowing him to explore his own thoughts and feelings, or establishing his character growth.

Taking Spidey out of the MCU will let us go back to basics with his character, so to speak. By necessity, Happy, Danvers, Fury, and the Skrulls won’t be in future movies. If something goes wrong, then, Peter will have to use his own grit and intelligence and resourcefulness to get himself out of his messes, grounding the stories of possible future movies in a sense of realism that’s sense escaped the MCU (for better or worse) and better allowing him to learn and grow from his mistakes.

4. It pairs Peter up with his greatest nemeses/anti-heroes again.

As great as it was to see Spider-Man team up with Avengers, the most obvious down-side, I don’t think, as missed by anyone: if Spidey’s hanging out with another corporation’s IP, then he’s not allowed to hang around with many of the 900 plus characters developed in his own world.

With Venom being as successful as it was, having Spider-Man under Sony’s banner means that the Venom versus Spider-Man rematch we’ve all been waiting for is all the more likely. We could see the Black Cat cinematic appearance that was teased in The Amazing Spider-Man 2, but was never explored. We could see Peter interact with Sable or Kraven the Hunter, both of which have movies in Sony’s line-up. The possibilities are nigh endless.

…

Or, of course, this could all go down in a giant dumpster fire. But let’s not think about that too much, eh?

#mcu #sony #spider-man #disney v sony #marvel #i'm seriously trying so hard to be optimistic right now guys

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waywardnerd67 · 6 years

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Eye of the Beholder

Summary: A chance meeting at a Halloween party has (Y/N) face to face with her favorite actor. Even though sparks fly between them (Y/N) cannot allow herself to believe that a man like him would ever be interested in someone like her. Finally, after agreeing to a date he proves that beauty is truly in the eye of the beholder. Pairing: Jensen x Plus Size!Reader Warnings: Fluff/Body Image Issues Word Count: 4610 A/N: This one is purely a personal fantasy of mine that one day I will find a hot man (who looks like Jensen preferably) that will love me for my nerdiness, love handles and obsession with cheeseburgers. Also, it is meant to inspire/encourage all women no matter the what size they are that we all are equally beautiful from size 2 to 22. As always this is unbeta so all mistakes are mine. Likes, comments and reblogs are splendid and I will love you doubly for them! Enjoy! **SPECIAL NOTE: This is a work of COMPLETE FICTION. I truly adore and respect The Ackles’ marriage and family. This is meant to be enjoyed as a work of FICTION as inspired by Jensen being a beautiful human inside.

(Y/N) walked into the large house nervously next to her best friend, Jill. “(Y/N) stop messing with your skirt you look gorgeous.” She looked to Jill rolling her eyes, “Easy for you to say in your sexy nurse’s outfit. I feel like a bloated Supergirl.” Jill shook her head and pulled her further into the house. The only reason why (Y/N) was even here was because Jill was guest starring on the show Supernatural and one of the Producers was having a Halloween party. Jill’s boyfriend could not make it which left (Y/N) to take his place. Her and Jill had shopped for hours trying to find a costume for her. She ended up just wearing one of her Superman shirts with a white button-down shirt, black pencil shirt and knee-high boots. (Y/N) already wore black square rimmed glasses which just finished off her Supergirl look.

She grabbed a bottle of beer and found small corner with a chair to sit and people watch. She was always amazed by how easily Jill could socialize with anyone. Did not matter if she had just met them or knew them for years she could talk to anyone. (Y/N), on the other hand, could barely form sentences when it came to meeting new people. She was naturally shy unless it came to comicbooks and all things nerdy. She glanced down at her hands holding her now empty beer bottle trying to decide if losing her little corner was worth getting another one. That is when a large hand stuck a beer in front of her face. Looking up, she lost all power of speaking or thinking.

“Hi, look like you could use another beer.” She nodded her lips slightly parted in shock as her favorite actor stood in front of her. “I’m Jensen and you are?” She shook her head trying to rattle the hamster in her brain to function. “Hi, um I’m (Y/N). Thanks,” she mumbled holding up the beer as Jensen leaned against the wall next to her. “I’ve never seen you at one of Jim’s parties before.” She bit her lip wishing he would have ignored her like every other hot guy who passed by her in her life. “I’m Jill’s best friend and her boyfriend couldn’t make it. I’m just a date fill in.” Jensen chuckled as he took a long drink from his beer. “Well, I would say that Jill definitely got a date upgrade. Supergirl?” (Y/N) let out a sarcastic laugh, “Yeah, more like Supergirl after binging on some cheeseburgers.” He shrugged, “I don’t know I personally like cheeseburgers and I bet she could put away some burgers.” (Y/N) chuckled nodding. Someone called out to Jensen and he excused himself.

(Y/N) took a deep breath watching him walk away dressed in his LARPing costume from the show. The way he filled out the brown pants and suede shirt made her sigh. Jill came bouncing up to her, “I see you met Jensen. How’d it go?” (Y/N) shrugged taking a long drink of her beer, “He said hi, I remember how to speak and he brought me a beer. That was it.” Jill rolled her eyes and sat down next to her. “(Y/N), you should seriously try to talk to more people and socialize. You’re never going to meet anyone if you hole yourself up in your apartment only talking to people online.” (Y/N) sighed heavily not wanting to hear the whole ‘get out be social for your own good’ speech again. “I think I’m going to get some air.” She said as she got up walking towards the front door before Jill could say anything.

She was sitting on the porch relishing in the cool fall breeze when she heard the familiar husky voice of Jensen Ackles. “Hi again.” She looked over seeing him pull up a chair next to her. “Aren’t you cold out here?” She snickered shaking her head, “Nope. I have natural extra layers keeping me warm.” She said poking her side pudge as she asked, “So, did you willing put on the LARPing costume or lose a bet?” she asked as he laughed. “Willingly since I didn’t have time to think of anything else and the costume department still had it. Decided not to go with the long Jared hair this time though.” She laughed looking up his perfect short dirty blond hair. It was slightly spiky and soft looking making her want to reach up and touch it. “Good choice.” She said smiling at him as he ran his fingers through his hair making it messy. “You like the short hair, huh?” She bit her bottom lip nodding. “Though, it could be a little longer like back when you were on Dawson’s Creek.” His booming laugh brought a big smile to her face.

“Talk about bad hair days!” He said taking a deep breath from laughing. “Your hair wasn’t that bad then. Towards the end of that season it looked great except how dark it was. Jeez!” He started laughing along with her. “So, I’m guessing you’re a fan if you’ve seen me on Dawson’s Creek?” She nodded feeling her cheeks heat up. “You caught me. I’ve been a fan since Dark Angel.” She admitted as he nodded. She watched as his eyes travel over her and she feel her insecurities flooding her. “Well, I must say that you are unlike any other fan I have ever met.” She scoffed, “How so?” He leaned in closer to her and she forgot how to breath looking into his brilliant olive eyes. “Well, you’re not hysterically crying or shaking. You also hold a conversation without first squealing.” She chuckled nervously leaning in a little further to whisper, “Full disclosure, my inner fangirl in passed out on the floor drooling in the fetal position.” Jensen bit his lip holding in his laughter and failing miserably.

(Y/N) ended up talking to Jensen throughout the night until his bodyguard, Clif, told him it was time to go since he had an early call in the morning. “I had a great time talking tonight. Do you think maybe we could go out and talk some more?” She looked up at Jensen stunned he was asking her out. Her insecurities screaming inside her mind reminding her she was not his type at all. She slowly shook her head, “Thanks for sitting with me, but I’m sure you have better people to hang out with than me.” She watched as his face fell saying goodnight and (Y/N) took several deep breaths in order to calm her rapidly beating heart. “Ready to go?” Jill asked walking outside as (Y/N) nodded. “Did you have a nice conversation with Jensen? You two were talking for a long time.” She stared out the window of Jill’s car and sighed. “Yeah, he’s super nice like everyone always says he is. Even if I hated going to the party it was well worth it to meet and talk with Jensen Ackles.” Jill laughed as she continued towards (Y/N)’s apartment. That night (Y/N)’s dreams were filled of husky laughter and bright olive eyes staring at her.

It had been a couple of weeks since the Halloween party and the chill of November had invaded Vancouver. (Y/N) was still kicking herself for turning down Jensen. She would reason with herself that it was for the best. She stood in front of her mirror in her bra and panties poking at her love handles that no one loved and her round belly. “Seriously, why in the world would Jensen Ackles ever want someone like me.” She muttered as she pulled out a pair of jeans and a graphic tee to wear for the day. As soon as she sat down to work her phone buzzed with a text from a number she did not recognize. Cautiously she pulled up the message a small gasp escaping her lips seeing who it was. “Hey (Y/N) it’s Jensen, I hope you don’t mind I asked Jill for your number. I wanted to try one more time to ask you out to dinner. I rarely meet a gorgeous woman who doesn’t freak out and I really enjoy talking with you. Hope to hear from you soon.” She closed the message and called Jill immediately.

“Hey (Y/N/N), what’s up?” Her best friend answered. “Oh, I think you know what’s up. You gave Jensen freaking Ackles my phone number?!” she exclaimed as she her Jill giggling. “Um, yes I did and you’re welcome. You really made an impression on him and I about choked on soda hearing you turned him down when he asked you out. Are you crazy?” (Y/N) was now rubbing her forehead and growling softly. “Jill, look at him and then look at me. He belongs with someone who looks like you who he could proudly show off on the red carpet. Not some fat nerd girl who reads comics for a living.” She could hear Jill shutting a door and then came her stern but loving voice. “(Y/N)(Y/L/N), stop putting yourself down. So, what if you’re a size twenty-two and others are a size two or twelve. The only thing that you should focus on is the fact that Jensen Ackles asked YOU out. He didn’t ask the gorgeous actress or model out that he talked with at that party. He didn’t sit outside all night with the reporter who gave him her number. He never even gave those other women a second thought but he did with you. If you ask me I think that is worth going out on one date with him to see where things go.”

(Y/N) knew Jill was right but it did not get rid of the nagging feeling that it was all a set up for failure and heartache. “I know you’re right. I can’t help to think he will see one of those other women and then I’m just a fleeting lapse in judgment. Then he leaves and I’m left with all these feelings to deal with by myself.” Jill took a deep breath before speaking. “First, life is all about chances. You won’t know what will happen until you try. Second, and most important, you are never alone. I am always here for you with a pint of ice cream and darts to through at pictures of his beautiful face.” (Y/N) laughed and Jill was called onto to set ending their conversation. (Y/N) reread Jensen’s message several times before finally replying back to him.

Jensen and (Y/N) texted one another throughout the week leading up to their date that Saturday night. Never before had she been able to talk to someone so easily. Sometimes they would talk about what he had filmed that day without giving her too many spoilers. He would ask her about what comics she was reading and she would even send him links to her reviews. She had always heard stories from other fans how amazingly sweet he was but he was more than that. He genuinely cared about people which made him a rare human being in a world filled with hateful people. She stood in her closet looking over her clothes trying to decide what to wear. All he told her about their date, was to wear her favorite outfit. She pulled out her favorite jeans that fit around her curvy hips without giving her muffin top. Next, she grabbed her favorite graphic tee that was green and had a girl with glasses on it saying, ‘Geek Chic’ that was loose but still showed off her figure nicely.

She slipped on her favorite Converse shoes wiggling her feet happily deciding to keep her make-up simple and put her long (Y/H/C) hair in a messy bun. Giving herself a once over she nodded happily grabbing her purse and keys. hearing a knock on her door. Her stomach started churning as she walked up placing her hand on the handle. Taking a deep breath, she opened her door taking in the sight before her. She giggled, “Did these flowers come with my date?” Jensen lowered the bouquet of mix matched flowers revealing his brilliant smile. “Sure did!” She giggled as he gave her his famous Ackles cheesy smile. She took the flowers from him and invited him in. (Y/N) went into her kitchen to get a vase for the flowers. She glanced over seeing Jensen leaning casually against her door watching her every move. She placed the flowers on her breakfast bar making her way back to him, “Alright I’m all ready for this surprise date you have planned.” He chuckled holding out his hand to her. She placed her hand in his and he laced their fingers together.

She started laughing as Jensen pulled into a local bowling alley. “You’re kidding, right?” she asked as he nodded excitedly. “Do you know how long it has been since I’ve been bowling or since I’ve been on a date? I don’t know what they kids are doing these days when they go out on dates.” (Y/N)’s stomach was hurting from laughing as they got out of the car. They grabbed their shoes and found bowling balls making their way to their lane. Jensen typed in their names and she gave him a pointed look, “Jay and Gorgeous?” she asked. He nodded proudly as she rolled her eyes. A few frames in and (Y/N) was kicking his butt already as she went up to bowl getting a strike. “Whoo! Great job!” he cheered as she high fived him and she felt him trail his fingers down her arm as he walked up to bowl. (Y/N) was watching him line up his shot admiring his backside.

He was wearing a pair of dark jeans and a solid blue button-down shirt that showed off all the muscles in his back as he threw the ball. This time he knocked all but the ten pin down. She walked over to him as he waited for his ball to return. “You want to stand opposite of the side the pin in on and throw your ball across the lane.” She explained as he grabbed his bowling ball, “Show me.” He grabbed her hand placing it on his narrow waist. She swallowed hard feeling his hip bones and positioned him correctly. He looked back at her questioningly as she nodded. He walked up throwing his ball and perfectly hit the ten pin down. He turned around throwing his arms in the air cheering. He rushed over to her and picked her up swinging her around. “I got it! I got it!” he shouted repeatedly as she laughed. “Great job Jensen.” He put her down bringing his hands down to rest on her hips, “Only because of your great teaching. How are you so good at this?” She smiled placing her hands on his forearms, “I bowled a lot. Pretty much from age seven until I was twenty-five. I competed in tournaments and won a few.” He stared down at her in amazement, “Is there anything you can’t do?” He asked swaying her slightly back and forth. “Cooking, horrible at it.” Jensen laughed as he let her go so she could bowl.

As they were putting their shoes on a few girls came up nervously to Jensen. “Hey there ladies.” He said as (Y/N) watched in amazement how he went from regular guy to famous actor. (Y/N) offered to take their picture for them as he stood smiling between the two girls. They said thanks walking off as Jensen grabbed (Y/N)’s hand walking up to the desk so they returned their shoes. As Jensen was paying, (Y/N)’s phone buzzed with a notification from Tumblr. One of her online friends had tagged her in a post. “@winchestergrl67 Is this you?” (Y/N) looked at the picture of her and Jensen standing there after he hit the ten pin. She smiled seeing the way he was looking down at her and holding her close. Then she read the caption and her heart dropped. “Jensen Ackles taking pity on larger (hehe) than life fan. Wonder what contest she won to go bowling with Jensen. That is the only way a girl like that would ever be able to be with a man like Jensen.” She looked back up at the picture now noticing every imperfection she had compared to how truly perfect Jensen was. She felt his strong arm come around her shoulders and she unintentionally flinched. “Everything okay?” he asked as she willed the tears blurring her vision would not fall in front him. “Uh, yeah. Ever-Everything is fine.” Her voiced cracked slightly and he turned her to face him.

“What is it? You look as if you could cry right now.” She shook her head as her stomach was doing backflips. “I’m not feeling too well suddenly. Could you take me home, please?” She looked down at her feet as he ran his large hands down her arms making her skin crawl wishing her could just disappear. “Sure, come on.” He said concern filling his voice and as he put a protective arm around her the urge to run away from his touch was overwhelming. As they got into his car, she pulled out her phone looking at the post again. It was being reblogged by so many people now and the need to bury herself under her blanket at home was great. He had not started the car yet and was looking at her when she glanced over. “(Y/N), tell me the truth. What is wrong?” he asked and she could not keep the dam from bursting. She handed him the phone as tears streamed down her cheeks. “Look, I’ve always been a big girl and being teased comes with the territory. Really, they didn’t say anything I haven’t heard before. It’s not even that bad honestly, but I’m just not used to seeing it on social media for the world to see.” She looked over to him to see concern and anger filtering his face.

Quickly she looked away and said, “You don’t deserve to have any kind of bad publicity even if you are not the one at the center of it. You should be seen with models and actresses in your arms not someone like me. Whatever this is between us you should just forget about it.” Guilt filtered throughout her mind. She was the one to blame for all of this for allowing the date to even happen and now it effected Jensen making her guilt double within her. (Y/N) looked up suddenly when she heard him get out of the car and watched as he walked around to her side opening the door. He took her hand helping her out of the car and immediately pulled her into a soul crushing hug. “I am so sorry for what they said. They have no right to judge you based on your looks. Which, by the way, are beautiful. You are beautiful and that is what made me grab a beer for you. I wanted an excuse to come up and talk with you but I really didn’t know a good ice breaker.” She scoffed as he pulled back slightly. He brought his hands on either side of her face as his thumbs slipped up under her glasses wiping away the falling tears. “I think, ‘Hi, I’m Jensen Ackles’ would have worked fine.” He chuckled pulling her against his chest again.

“(Y/N), I’ve dated actresses and models before. None of them could even compare to you in appearance or you as a person. You are brilliantly witty, incredibly smart and…” he paused as he brought his hands down her sides slowly. She tried not to cringe as his hands went over every love handle she had and then she looked up at him a small quiet gasp escaping her lips. He was biting his lower lip and his eyes were dark with wanting. “You are by far the sexiest woman I have ever seen. I don’t care that you are bigger than other girls because this,” He gripped her hips tightly, “is what I want.” She took a deep breath pushing all her insecurities, all her fear of letting go and allowing herself to feel what she wanted too down. She brought her hands up to his shoulders running them up behind his neck into his soft hair. He shut his eyes and hummed pleasingly at her touch then she leaned up pressing her lips to his.

First, the kiss was gently and simple quickly turning into more as he pinned her against the car. His hands traveling needlingly over her body as she raked her fingers through his hair. He took her bottom lip gently between his teeth earning a small moan from her. Deepening their kiss for a moment he literally took her breath away and they both pulled away panting slightly. He rested his forehead against hers then began kissing her all over her face and neck making her giggle. “Well, Mr. Ackles you should do know how to make a big girl feel better.” He nipped at her neck as she yelped, “I think you mean, I know how to make a GIRL feel better. I don’t see big or small, I just see someone who hurt someone I care about. Speaking of which, I think we should take care of that right now.”

She looked up at his devious smirk nervously, “Oh, I’m scared now. How so?” she asked timidly. He grabbed her hand pulling her in front of the bowling alley and pulled out his phone. He pulled up his camera putting it in selfie mode then pulled her to him with his free hand. He took a picture of them smiling in front of the bowling alley and then one of him kissing her cheek. He sent both to her and then posted both to his Instagram linking it to his Twitter account as well. Her phone buzzed once he had posted it as he chuckled looking over her shoulder as she read it out loud. “Had an amazing date with this gorgeous woman @winchestergrl67 (more like AcklesGrl now, don’t ya think?” She started laughing as he wrapped his strong arms around her waist. “Just one more thing and we need your phone for it.” He said as she handed him her phone. He pulled up her camera switching it to video mode pointing it at them. “Oh god…” she whispered before he hit record.

“Hey everyone, Jensen here. I just wanted to take a moment to say that being a single guy is hard. It’s hard to go up to a gorgeous woman, talk to her and then convince her to go out on a date. I have a crazy life that most woman are scared off by and that can make life kind of lonely. Whenever I am able to convince an incredibly smart and talented lady to go on a date, like going bowling, I would appreciate it if people would not make comments about it. Someone posted a picture of us tonight that they didn’t ask to take and said some not so nice things about (Y/N).” He paused for a moment looking down at her smiling at her as she felt her face burning. “I know I live in the public eye and people aren’t always going to be nice but you should not make comments about someone you don’t even know. If this particular person would have come up asking for a photo and talked with us they would have realized how amazing the woman next to me is. As long as everyone keeps their comments nice then I’m good with sharing my life with y’all. However, the moment you start attacking people I care for then I can’t open up to everyone like I do. So, let’s keep it all friendly and spread the love. Thanks, y’all and see you soon!” He ended the video by kissing (Y/N) on the cheek and then took her phone where she couldn’t see it.

“What are you doing, Jensen?” she asked as he looked down at her phone his face scrunched up in concentration. “How do you work this app? I’m horrible at social media and usually Jared helps me.” He said as she laughed seeing he could not figure out Tumblr. “You want to post that video on my Tumblr page?” He nodded smiling as she leaned up kissing his cheek. “That’s sweet but you don’t have to do that.” He puckered his lips thinking, “I know I don’t have too. I want too. Unless you are embarrassed of being out with me because I would totally get it if you were.” She gawked at him for a moment asking, “Seriously?!” He nodded as she took her phone from him. She turned away from him as she created a post. He tried to look at her phone as she was typing but she gently pushed him away. He scoffed as he stood there pouting. She looked up at him smiling, “Done.” He wiggled his fingers wanting her phone back, “Let me see.” She shook her head sticking her phone in her back pocket. “You wanna see then have Jared help you create a Tumblr account.”

He narrowed his gorgeous green eyes at her and lunged for her. She squealed as his hands went over her sides traveling down to her butt, “Give the phone gorgeous.” He said as she held her hand over her pocket. “No way pretty boy! Get your own account and then you can see the post.” He stopped suddenly smiling as her giggling died down. He leaned down kissing her, “Okay, just means I’ll be able to see everything you post about me on there.” Her eyes snapped up at his, “Crap.” She was sure his laughter could be heard in the bowling alley. Once they were back at her apartment, he insisted on walking up her up to her apartment. She leaned against her door as he kissed her goodnight. “So, what are my chances of convincing you to go out on a second date with me?” She looked up at him biting her lower lip seeing nervousness in his eyes. She smiled up at him, “I’d say your chances are pretty good. Jensen, thank you for everything tonight. You could have just dismissed my feelings and told me I was overreacting. I appreciate you being so understanding.”

He kissed her once more, “Well, someone once told me a long time ago that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. My eyes happen to think you are beautiful, (Y/N).” They said goodnight and she watched him walk down the hall out of sight. As she closed her door she leaned against it sighing happily. The next morning, she glanced at her phone seeing a notification of a new follower on her Tumblr account. Pulling up the app she looked at the handle instantly smiling. “@eyeofthebeholder is now following winchestergrl67” That is when she noticed all the notifications of Jensen liking several things she had posted including the video he had taken. “@winchestergrl67 <3” he simply commented on it. Then a text popped up from him, “Good morning gorgeous. Hope you enjoy all the Tumblr notifications when you woke up. I have today off so my plan is to binge read through your Masterlist unless you can think of some other way to entertain me. LOL” Her eyes went wide as the thought of Jensen reading her fanfiction terrified her, “Crap.” She whispered texting him back immediately.

My Nerd Herd: @carryonmywaywardcaptain @waywardrose13 @anotherwaywardsister @ladywinchester1967 @waywardbaby @dwgrl1903

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gainerstories · 6 years

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Holiday Heft: Halloween

“Wow you look so different,” said my sister, Emily, “healthier.”

I knew full well what “healthier” meant. It meant I was fat, hairy, and pale. You see, I had checked into rehab two months ago at the beginning of September for a coke and pill addiction. I was something of a party boy, a circuit gay if you will, and the lifestyle eventually caught up to me. A few days after my thirtieth birthday I almost overdosed and woke up in a hospital covered in my own blood. The lining of my nose was falling out. After that, I checked into rehab and kicked all of my habits: drugs, booze, boys, and even cigarettes. The problem was, I picked up another habit: food. This was common in rehab, and a lot of people spoke of their extra pudge with pride because it was a sign of their recovery. I tried to adopt this outlook, despite the fear that no one would want to fuck me once I was clean. It didn’t help that I had turned thirty which meant my fuckability in the gay community was already plummeting. I checked in to the recovery program at 5’10” and 120 pounds. I stood at my parent’s doorstep at 140 pounds.

“Well you know what rehab will do to yah,” I said and slapped the bit of fat clinging to my abdomen. “And they don’t even have tanning booths there!”

We laughed and I stepped inside. It was strange to be back home in Connecticut. Once I had moved to San Francisco I rarely visited, and when I did it was for very brief periods of time. Everything looked the same in my ancestral home, but my family appeared older. My parents were welcoming, but the air was filled with disappointment. I dropped my stuff in my room and helped my mom prepare for Halloween night. She was leaving with my Dad on a business trip in a few hours and it was up to me and my sister to pass out the candy.

As the sun began to set, the first of the tick-or-treaters arrived. After handing out candy for maybe fifteen minutes, my 21 year old sister abruptly announced she had a party to go to and abandoned me. We lived in a wealthy suburb that was wildly popular on Halloween and I was a bit annoyed I was stuck here alone. It also didn’t help that I was able to watch on social media as all my friends in San Francisco got plastered. Meanwhile, I was handing out candy to kindergarteners. To distract myself I put on a horror movie and stretched out on the couch. I was craving a beer or at least some weed, but resisted and ordered a pizza instead.

My stomach was growling as I manned the door, so I decided to help myself to a few treats after each group left. I was already a bit full of candy when the pizza arrived, but I ate it anyway out of boredom. After killing the small pie in record time, I realized I didn’t feel completely satiated. My stomach had definitely grown to accommodate more when I was in rehab, leaving me with a surprising appetite. Back in the day, one slice of pizza would would leave me feeling bloated and fat. Now one slice felt like nothing. The Halloween candy was right in front of me so I absent mindedly continued to snack through my movie.

As I was choosing the next flick to put on the door bell rang. I opened up to a chorus of “trick-or-treat” and reached for some candy. I was shocked to see the bowl was nearly empty. How was that possible? Was I handing out too much? The night was still young and more kids were certain to stop by. After the kids left I dug through the kitchen looking for more candy. I knew my mom had bought three mega sized bags of Halloween treats, but they were all empty and I couldn’t find any more. I did find some bags of chocolate chips for baking, but nothing individually wrapped that I could pass out. What had happened? The only answer remaining was that I plowed through the candy myself. A wave of anxiety washed over me as I dually realized that not only was I a fat pig, but that I was going to have to turn the lights off at 8pm and hope the neighbors didn’t gossip or tell my parents. I wanted nothing more than a xanax to calm my nerves, but instead I opened a bag of the chocolate chips for some much needed comfort. What the fuck- might as well embrace being a fat ass. I put on another movie and reclined on the couch with my chocolate.

I woke up to my sister drunkenly stumbling home with a box from Pizza Hut. I looked down to see brown stains across my shirt and two empty bags of chocolate chips on the floor. Luckily, she was too drunk to notice my blatant gluttony.

“Hey brotherrr, wants join me for some dank ass pizza?”

I complied, even though I hate Pizza Hut, and she plopped down on the couch next to me. I tried to ask about her night but she could barely form words as she struggled to finish one slice. Immediately after she dozed off. I removed her shoes, covered her in a blanket, and cleaned up the house a bit. It was almost 2am but I was wide awake. My stomach was noticeably bloated from all the pizza and candy, but I figured one more slice before bed wouldn’t hurt. In fact, it would probably help me fall asleep. Before I knew it, the whole pizza was gone and my gut was distended and tight. I was uncomfortably full. It was a strange and foreign sensation that only occurred on the occasional thanksgiving. What would I tell Emily about her pizza? I destroyed the box and hid it at the bottom of the trash can. Hopefully she wouldn’t remember getting it, and if she did I would tell her there was only two slices in the box when she got home. I tried to ignore my aching stomach and not think about how out of control my appetite had become as I headed to bed.

I woke up the next morning still bloated and filled with guilt. I needed to get myself together. I decided to skip breakfast, throw on some tennis shoes, and go for a jog. It didn’t take long before I was drenched in sweat, out of breath and all around miserable. I persevered, however, and clocked three miles. I decided that my plan for the day was to make a green smoothie, go to the tanning salon, and then buy a gym membership. It was time I started looking like the old Levi, just without the excessive drugs, partying, and sex. I got home feeling refreshed and greeted Emily in the kitchen as she was making coffee. She looked super hungover.

“Fuck I’m so glad you’re home,” she said.

“How do you feel?” I asked.

“How do you think?” She struggled to chuckled. “I need hangover food ASAP. Come with me to the 50s diner?”

“I was gonna make a smoothie, and then...”

“Fuck that, I need greasy food and some company. Pleeease Levi? You don’t have to order anything, just provide conversation.”

I sighed and complied. Who was I to turn her down when I’d been absent for so many years? I changed clothes and we headed to the diner. Emily ordered an excessive spread of pancakes, hash browns and a milkshake. I ordered French toast and a side of fruit.

Our food arrived and it all looked delicious, plus I was positively starving. I tried to pace myself although I couldn’t help but to gobble up every morsel of the gooey French toast. Emily claimed to be full after only a few bites and continually shoved her food onto my plate. I verbally contested this, but my actions proved otherwise. The crispness of the overdone hash browns was really hitting the spot, and I started grabbing them off her plate to drench them in ketchup and ranch. I definitely ate the majority of that dish. To Emily’s credit, she did eat most of the pancakes but I helped polish them off. The milkshake, however, was simply beyond her capacity. It was almost completely melted, but I still took it to go. It felt wasteful to leave. Plus, I had a weak spot for this diner’s milkshakes, melted or frozen. I guzzled it down halfway through the drive.

My first week back home continued in a similar fashion, which is to say it was pretty food-centric. My family took me on several sumptuous outings which usually consisted of me eating their leftovers. Furthermore, my newly sober status meant that if I wanted to hang out with any of my old friends our options for activities were pretty limited. More often than not, we would get lunch or dinner. It also didn’t help that my mom bought an excess of discount Halloween candy to put out around the house. The result was that I was almost constantly snacking on something sugary and sweet. In my defense, I did try to go jogging when I could muster the energy, but it was always a struggle. And, needless to say, I never got that gym membership.

It’s not like I was oblivious to the fact that I was developing some bad eating habits and a bit of extra padding. I could feel my shirts clinging to my poochy belly and my thighs suctioned into skinny jeans. There was no avoiding how the waist of all my pants forced the fat around my waist to bulge out and strain the lower half of my T-shirts. To avoid this I began to wear sweatpants and basketball shorts almost daily. Elastic not only alleviated the discomfort of a tight waistband, but also didn’t produce an unbecoming muffin top effect. Strangely, I was generally unconcerned about my physique. I figured I could always lose the weight and that my sobriety and family time was more important. However, this didn’t mean I wasn’t shocked when I stepped on the scale a week after Halloween to find myself clocking in at 151 pounds. That was an 11 pound gain of what was certainly pure fat. I knew I’d been unhealthy, but 11 pounds in one week? Something must be wrong. I scheduled an appointment with my doctor for the next morning.

I struggled to find clothes that flattered my figure while I getting dressed for my appointment. Eventually I settled on all black, even though the button of my jeans felt like it would burst at any moment. When I arrived, my doctor took all the usual tests and then sat me down for a conversation.

“I understand you’re concerned about your weight, but frankly you shouldn’t be. 160 pounds is perfectly healthy for someone with your age an height.”

“160?!” I responded. “My scale at home was ten less than that.”

“Perhaps a full stomach or heavier clothes can account for the discrepancy. Regardless, you shouldn’t be too worried. I’m sure you’re finding that your metabolism is not what it once was, and this is normal for men your age. You are about fifteen pounds shy of an overweight BMI, so what we want to do is maintain your current weight with healthy eating and light exercise. I know you’re aware that weight gain is often an effect of newfound sobriety, and not cause for alarm. You should really feel proud of yourself, Levi. Don’t sweat the small stuff.”

As I left the doctors office, I did feel better about myself. Still, if I wanted to ever get laid again, I needed to cut some weight. Sobriety meant a fresh start and I should start caring for myself accordingly. When I got home I busted out the razor and shaved off all my body hair. I went to Walgreens for some tanning lotion and then H&M for some better fitting clothes. I knew I had to invest in my appearance if I was going to take make lasting change. That is, after all, how I got sober in the first place.

Finally, after a full day of self-care and healthy eating I returned home for a long bath and a face mask. As I walked in the door a wonderful buttery aroma filled my nose. I knew instantly what it was: my mom was baking.

“Honey, I’m so glad you’re back! I was struck with the holiday spirit and decided to do some baking. I need you try everything and tell me how it is.”

“Mom, I’m really trying to watch my weight right now.”

“Oh silly, just one slice of each dish. I insist. There’s Oreo cheesecake, pecan pie, and my special dark chocolate banana bread that you love.”

That banana bread was my weakness and my stomach was growling after a full day of eating vegan. I had to resist if I ever wanted to get laid again. I prepared myself to turn her down and took a deep breath. I don’t know if it was the smell in the air or what, but the words coming out of my mouth were not what I intended.

“What the hell, I’ll take two slices of the banana bread.”

This was going to be a long Holiday season.

#gainer stories #holiday heft #holidayheft

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mortythesp00k · 6 years

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Review: Tokyo Ghoul Movie

I had mixed feelings when I first heard that Tokyo Ghoul was getting a live-action adaptation. I find most cinematic recreations of both books and manga usually fall short of their source material (I’m looking at you Death Note). However, I was pleasantly surprised by Tokyo Ghoul. I do not think it was a flawless film, but it did not leave me feeling disappointed like many adaptations of stories I greatly enjoy. I will be splitting my discussion of this movie into four parts that are labeled below. Before I begin, I would like to state a quick disclaimer: I have not seen many live-action adaptations of anime/manga. As a result, I will not be able to make too many comparisons between Tokyo Ghoul and its fellow adaptations. I am also from the west, so my idea for what makes a movie good is probably out of touch with the standards of cinema in Japan. All of that being said, I am happy to be discussing and sharing my opinions on the 2017 film adaptation of our beloved Tokyo Ghoul.

Plot:

In this section I am going to giving some general thoughts about the story of the movie and how much its deviations from the story presented in the manga affected its quality. First, there is something important that I need to get out of the way early in this review: the manga is always better. I am going to do my best to judge this movie on its own merits, but I cannot ignore the superiority of the source material.

Speaking of source material, I want to begin by talking about how much of the original Tokyo Ghoul manga that this movie actually covered. Basically, it adapted the beginning of the story and the Dove arc. I think this was the right choice. Trying to jam the Gourmet arc in would have made the movie feel bloated, sped the pacing of the movie up way too much, and created an odd sense of anticlimax after Mado’s death. I cannot even imagine what kind of disaster this movie would have been if they tried to adapt as far as the Aogiri arc. My only criticism of the choice of material to adapt is that Nishiki’s role in the story feels a bit more random (although it is far from irrelevant). We also do not get to see any of his redemption arc.

Even with such a small amount of the Tokyo Ghoul narrative to work with, the movie still had to condense or remove some scenes to keep the runtime reasonable. Some of this I thought was well thought out and did not harm the story at all. Some examples include this scene:

Having Ryoko and Hinami already in Anteiku when Kaneki arrives seemed like a good way to introduce their characters earlier on without badly disrupting their or Kaneki’s story. Another example was the second appearance of Nishiki:

This scene fit with the narrative well and gives us the background information to Kaneki’s and Hide’s relationship. This method prevented the exposition from being completely forced in a much more awkward way or just completely absent. Having Hide attempt to answer for Kaneki was also a clever way to show more of the relationship between them.

Unfortunately, some scenes seemed to be stretched out for unclear reasons. The best example of this is Kaneki’s alleyway encounter with Nishiki and Touka. Instead of ending like this:

Kaneki runs away from Touka only to encounter her shortly afterwards taking the trash out at Anteiku:

This is where they have a tamer version of the infamous cake conversation before Yoshimura arrives and invties Kaneki inside. I am not sure why one of the most iconic scences from the early parts of Tokyo Ghoul was split like that, but I do not think it adds much to the film.

Overall, I think that the Tokyo Ghoul movie picked a good amount of the manga story to adapt and did not, for the most part, reduce its quality in adapting it.

Characters/Casting:

First up is our boy. Masataka Kubota nailed Kaneki’s personality and effectively used mannerisms and behavior to convey ideas that were expressed using internal monologue in the manga. I think he also succeeded in making Kaneki’s revulsion to human food (something I was worried would be super cringe-worthy if poorly acted) seem genuine and disturbing. His portrayals of Kaneki’s turbulent emotions were also spot on.

Maybe I am just used to the more serious Hide we have been seeing in recent chapters of re, but Kai Ogasawara’s performance felt a bit too goofy. I did not get the feeling of a caring and intelligent mind that lurks beneath the jovial exterior, and I think that is a quintessential part of Hide’s character. However, Hide played a fairly small part in this film. I can’t fairly expect a ton of characterization given how little screen time he has.

Fumika Shimizu did a good job bringing Touka to the big screen. I do not have too much to say about her performance and the character played a fairly similar role to what she did in the manga. I think some facets of her personality (like eating Yoriko’s food) are not fleshed out enough in the film to make her as compelling a character as she is in the manga, but like I said for Hide, that was hard to do in a movie format.

Mado was probably the second best portrayed character (next to Kaneki). Yô Ôizumi did a great job with Mado’s focused, but unhinged, personality. Additionally, his dialogue did a great job of characterizing his dehumanizing view of ghouls. I also really appreciate the fact that they made an effort to give him a cockeyed appearance similar to his manga counterpart.

This was probably my least favorite of all the major characters. Maybe my memory of early Tokyo Ghoul is clouded, but it seems like Amon came across as much more of a general jerk in this film. His treatment of his subordinate and his incredible willingness to commit terrible acts seemed different from his manga counterpart. He just seemed too angry and one-sided. I did not get the feeling that he would be a character who would end up questioning much of what the CCG stood for later on.

Honorable Mentions:

Despite his incredibly minor role, I thought Kenta Hamano did a great portraying Enji. The Devil Ape’s unique sense of humor definitely came through. I would also like to give a shoutout to Shôko Aida. I think she did a good job bringing Ryoko’s character to life and not letting her admittedly odd role affect her performance.

Dishonorable Mentions:

Yomo was looking a little bit too fresh. I do not know how canonically old Yomo is, but Shuntarô Yanagi felt way too young. It was hard to see him as the serious character that he was in the manga and, to a lesser extent, this film as well. Also, where are the flowing silver locks? I’d also like to mention Hinami. I might just not like child actors, but I thought her performance was not compelling even with the emotionally loaded scenes she featured in.

Cinematic Elements:

I know that special effects are usually the most obvious point of criticism for anime/manga live-action adaptations, but I feel the need to mention it. Generally, the movies effects are not noticeably bad, but the kagune really stand out. I will admit that Kaneki’s kagune looks okay (although its motion is often jerky and awkward), but the other ones really suffer. I’m especially looking at Nishiki and Touka:

I missed Nishiki’s elegant dolphin tail and Touka’s gorgeous, kinetic wing. On a somewhat related note, I did not care for the CCG coats. This might be minor, but they looked too much like a costume instead of the relatively simple garment they are in the manga.

While the cinematography was generally quite good, there were some moments were more reliance on the manga might have helped. A good example is this scene:

Working in some of the most famous visuals from the manga might have made shots likes this a little more dramatic and would have been a nice way to pay homage to the source material (not that I can really fault the movie for not doing this).

I’d also like to draw some attention to some setting changes that bothered me. I think the change in location for both the Kaneki v. Nishiki fight and the Kaneki v. Amon somewhat detracted from those scenes. This problem was especially evident for me in Ryoko’s death scene:

I never realized how much I liked this scene being in a long, narrow alley until it wasn’t. I understand the limitation of shooting on location, but I thought this particular choice took away from the quality of a key dramatic moment in Tokyo Ghoul.

Unjustified Nitpicking:

I know you are probably thinking that my whole review belongs under this category, but I aim to prove you wrong. For these next few points I am throwing any attempt at objectivity to the wind and just listing some personal gripes that, while not objective flaws, still stuck in my craw while I was watching this movie.

First, the mask:

This is a prime example of “if it’s not broke, don’t fix it.” I really liked the mask design from the manga and am not sure why they chose this new look. I thought the flat human teeth were better visual imagery than the series of sharp, metallic teeth on the film version of the mask.

Next, I would like to point out some odd examples of foreshadowing (I guess these are more of references since they have no payoff in the film). In no particular order:

Eye-lick scene:

Centipede in the shadows:

Hajime is here:

I guess these were nothing more than references for the hardcore fans, but it seemed odd to include them for only that purpose.

Finally, I would like to register a formal complaint that the song BANKA by illion was only used as an end credit song. It is a great track that reminded me a bit of Kisetsu wa Tsugitsugi Shindeiku (the Root A ending theme, a track that might even rival Unravel in quality).

That will be all from me. I know I spent a lot of time harping on this movie (I tend to do that), but it was really not that bad. I think that long time fans will have a fun time watching this take on the opening to TG. This movie is also a nice gateway into the series for people who have never experienced any part of TG. I think it’s worth checking out either way.

I plan to be writing about a new chapter tomorrow (fingers crossed). I am also happy to wish you all a productive and enjoyable week. Hope it’s a good one!

#tokyo ghoul #tokyo ghoul movie #ken kaneki #tg #kaneki ken #touka kirishima #nishiki nishio #movie review #rize kamishiro #hinami fueguchi #amon koutarou #kureo mado #kagune #hajime

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inquisitorhotpants · 7 years

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So since about 2005, I’ve been involved in this ongoing-with-occasional-long-hiatuses RP with a friend of mine that evolved from soap opera to super involved drama, in which canon gets utterly chucked out the window to a great extent.

In this, Anakin leaves the Order, becomes an ambassador, runs covert missions to help the neglected lower levels, is the Holonet’s favorite person, discovers what Palaptine really is and instead of turning to the dark side, assassinates the guy and takes over. xD (”Someone should make them agree,” and such.)

This is a super duper short summation - seriously, we’ve been doing the thing for over 12 years at this point, though if you subtract the breaks it’s probably closer to 10, and have over a million words for the thing, as well as multiple subplots and character arcs - but here’s some general angsty-type stuff with the new Chancellor. :D

A plethora of party invitations sat on a side table, ignored.

“I don’t know. Maybe I never knew who you were, really …. Maybe everyone was right about you when they warned me about you.”

The lifeless body of an assassin lay near the desk.

“I didn’t think you’d go this far. I mean, I knew about your temper, and I wondered after the whole gallery incident how far you’d really be willing to go, but I didn’t think you’d ever be capable of something like that.”

The office comm blinked, signaling unheard messages.

“Anakin Skywalker, what have you done? What were you thinking?”

He stood at the window, looking out across the cityscape. In Republica new alliances were being made, the tide turning in favor of those who had supported the brash former Jedi who had revealed himself willing to go to any length to secure what he wanted. In the mids and the lower levels, people were throwing wild parties, celebrating that their champion was now in charge and things were going to change. Off-world, the Separatists were in full retreat, knowing that the clones now had the complete support of a new leader who took every death personally, and who had no qualms about exacting his own personal, painful brand of retribution for slights, real or imagined.

Anakin cared about none of this.

In the back of his mind, ever since Palpatine had fallen in the plaza of the Temple, was the look on Annalise’s face: betrayal, shock, anger. Over and over, he replayed the scene:

“It had to be done!”

“There was no other way, that’s seriously what you’re telling me?”

“Yes! He wasn’t going to listen to reason!”

“You don’t really believe that. You never have. Why are you lying to me?”

“The decision had to be made. For the good of the Republic.”

“I don’t know. Maybe I never knew who you were, really.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Maybe everyone was right when they warned me about you.”

“I thought you were the one person I could count on, but I guess not. Just … get out.”

“Anakin … “

“No! You’ve said your piece. You’ve made your feelings very clear.”

And then he’d flung open the door, and she’d left, and he’d slammed it behind her.

He hadn’t heard from her since.

He strode to the bar and poured himself a glass of Ilosian, violet-black and swirling, then sat down at the desk - his desk, he reminded himself - and looked at his to-do list. He checked off meeting with Sith delegation and meeting with Jedi delegation and meeting with Senate delegation. He added Senate cleansing, then erased it. Wrote Senate restructuring and left it.

Anakin spun his chair and resumed looking out across the cityscape. He knew he should sleep, but every time he closed his eyes he felt the lightsaber sliding in between Palpatine’s ribs, heard the involuntary hiss of surprise, saw the life leaving the man’s eyes. Anakin had been surviving on alcohol-induced catnaps since it had happened, justifying the lack of sleep with the “there’s so much to get done to get the Republic stabilized” excuse, ignoring the fact that Palpatine ostensibly slept at some point.

He pulled a small scrap of flimsy out of his pocket and made his way to the holoprojector. He punched in the scrambling code, then the transmission code on the paper.

“To all agents in the field: I wish to have a full status report on my desk by the end of your next solar day.”

He disconnected, nodded to himself. One more thing to check off the list. He turned back to the desk, downed half of the Ilosian, and paced.

Reckless … foolhardy … aggressive … insubordinate … impulsive … inclined toward the Dark Side …

Everything the Council had ever said echoed through his mind. Maybe they were right. After all … he had enjoyed it.

He’d enjoyed knowing that Palpatine wasn’t going to be a problem anymore, and he’d relished finally saying “to hell with it” and executing a plan no matter who agreed with it … until he’d found out just how vehemently some people had disagreed with it.

Padme had stormed into the office as he was preparing his remarks assuming the chancellorship.

“You’re already in here, I see.”

“Well, where would you expect me to be?”

“I don’t know, having some respect for the dead? Although I guess you wouldn’t, given that you’re the one that murdered him.”

“What would you have me do, Padme? Just let him take over? Maybe send him some shoes and invite him out for tea? I tried everything I could think of!”

“I didn’t think you’d go this far. I mean, I knew about your temper, and I wondered after the gallery incident how far you’d really be willing to go, but I didn’t think you’d ever be capable of something like that.”

“Now you know. I hope this has cleared up any lingering questions, Senator.”

No one understood that he’d done it for the good of the Republic. No one understood that this was the only way to end the war, which would end up crippling the galaxy if it was allowed to continue. No one listened when he tried to tell them, so he took matters into his own hands, doing what had to be done to save a government buckling under its own bloated uselessness.

Obi-Wan wouldn’t even return his calls. A comm was still crumpled in the corner where Anakin had thrown it after finally losing patience.

He sat in the desk chair and rifled through the drawers. In the last one, he found a small box, which he quickly sliced, revealing a single scrap of flimsy covered in handwriting and a small red book.

“Order 66? What’s this?” He read through the notes, written in the same spiky, cramped hand as the transmission information. “So he had to know about the clones the entire time. He’s had them specially programmed for … something. I wonder what else he knew about.”

He set the flimsy back into the box and picked up the red book. Flipping through it, he realized it was a compendium of Sith history, lore, and doctrine. “This may be useful.” He slipped it into an inner jacket pocket.

He finished the Ilosian, picked up a pen and a blank sheet of flimsy, and began to write.

Do the ends justify the means? Palpatine was a danger to the Republic, but should he have faced Republic justice? I goaded him into an encounter, knowing that only one of us would walk away. What if I’d been wrong, and he’d killed me? Everyone who’d ever sided with me would be a target, just like I’m making those that sided with him a target. Although I’m not making them targets, I’m eliminating them altogether. Very publicly, so all understand that corruption will not stand.

But isn’t this in and of itself a sign of corruption? I am fully expecting to act with impunity, because who will stand against me? No one. Opposing forces are already in retreat. Those who fought me on the floor of the Senate are moving to stand behind me in an effort to save their own skins. But does the intent excuse the action? Those who will not cooperate will be dealt with, because I will not tolerate threats to this peace. I have coddled these people long enough. This time, they will do it my way.

Already, I know that this will be a lifelong task, leaving the Republic better than I found it. In the thousands of years before me, they haven’t managed to solve any of the most pressing problems - slavery, taking care of the Core Worlds to the detriment of all others, so many others. Fixing these will be my greatest work of love for the Republic that has taken care of me.

But ...

What if I’m wrong? What if there was another way? What if I’ve lost everyone I held close to my heart? Is there a line too far?

Am I strong enough to pay whatever price may be exacted?

The pen hovered above the flimsy for what felt like an eternity.

What if I’m a murderer?

He set the pen down and stood, making his way down the hallway to the private office, where he unlocked a small, handcarved chest placed behind the center chair, and set the page down on top of the already large stack of other similar handwritten pages.

Anakin then turned and walked back to the main office, settled into the chair and gazed out across the cityscape, lost in thought.

#dee writes stuff #this is old #you can tell because it's in past tense #but i still really like this #i mean #i REALLY like it #i like anakin wrestling with what he's done #and if the eventual good outweighs the bad

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wgstories16-blog · 7 years

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Immobile weight gain

Freedom - A weight gain story “Hi, my name is Bethany Edoness, and I’m going to get fat on purpose.” Beth said into her video camera as she stood naked in her bedroom. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, she had never said that out loud before and it excited her immensely. “This is my private video diary to record my progress. I am 5’5” tall and currently weigh only 106 pounds. I’m considered underweight with a BMI of 17.6, and my goal is, well, my goal…” Beth smiled and bit her lower lip as a whimper escaped her lips. She eyed her camera seductively as her right hand instinctively began to move over her slim hips toward her pussy. “My goal is to be considered super obese with a BMI of over 50, which means I’m going to stuff my face until I’m at least, oh, 300 pounds.” Her grin widened. “And I probably won’t stop there. In fact, I don’t plan to ever stop. I spent my whole life living up to other people’s expectations of how I should look. All through high school and college, eight years of my life, I played soccer religiously and trained my body hard.” Her hands moved up and down her body as she spun around for the camera. She had strong, toned legs and a tight, firm butt. Her waist was rock hard, while her breasts were small and perky with cute little nipples and coin-sized areolas. Her skinny arms were well defined, and her face was thin and beautiful. Beth constantly received compliments on her hot, young body. People were always praising her over how lucky she was to have such a slim, sexy frame. If only they knew about her secret desire to grow fat, she would think. “Just look at these sculpted abs, these bony arms, this muscular ass, these tiny titties. There isn’t an ounce of fat anywhere on me, and I worked hard to keep it that way. I loved soccer; I loved being part of the team. I was good at it. These agile legs can run a mile in under six minutes. But…” Beth closed her eyes and sighed. “Secretly I’ve always been extremely turned on by the idea of getting very fat. Ever since I was a little girl. My parents raised me on a strict vegan diet and encouraged me to try out for all kinds of sports throughout school. I stayed a vegan up until now, and I haven’t had a single bite of fast food or meat of any kind, or soda, or sugary food in my entire life. Soccer was the only thing that mattered to me; it got me out of the house and kept me busy, distracted from this secret desire of mine. So I stuck with it, and not once have I truly had the chance to indulge my weight gain fetish. Until now, that is. My parents were rich, very rich, and they died two years ago in a car accident. I’m not as broken up about it as you might think, they were always very distant. I was always just a trophy daughter to them, a hot, young, dedicated athlete they could brag about to their friends. I’ve inherited their entire fortune, and have just recently graduated college, with, ironically, an athletics degree. I’m 22 years old now and living on my own. I don’t have anyone all that close to me and to be perfectly honest I prefer it that way. I never really fit in with the girls I played soccer with; they all came across as shallow, backstabbing and petty to me. I guess you can say I’m finally at a point in my life where I’m free, free to give into my fetish and grow absurdly huge. The thought of just digging in and consuming all those rich, fatty foods I’ve denied myself my entire life, growing bigger, and fatter, and more out of shape.” Voice quivering, hands shaking, Beth continued. “I…I just want to ruin this body.” Reaching for a measuring tape, Beth prepared to take her current measurements. “Wow, I’m so nervous. It’s weird, even though I’m just admitting this to my own private video diary it feels amazing to just say aloud how I feel. Anyway, on to the fun stuff! My current measurements are a 31.5” chest, 24.4” waist, 34.8” butt, annnndddd 10.8” thighs. I’m going to keep track of my progress with this video diary every so often, as well as regular visits to the doctor and timing how long it takes me to run a mile. I want a complete catalogue keeping track of every aspect of my weight gain, from the changing shape of my body, to how unhealthy I’m getting. I’m also going to start smoking pot and drinking to help increase my appetite and convert all the calories I’m going to consume into fat. It’ll be amazing to just lie around all day drunk, high, and feasting. I’m growing a few marijuana plants to keep me constantly supplied with weed. I’ve never smoked or drank, or eaten anything that isn’t vegan before, so this is going to be a whole new experience!” Grinning madly, brimming with anticipation, Beth leaned in to her camera. “And I’m starting…right…now!” She said as she stopped the recording. Lighting a blunt she had taught herself to roll by using the internet, she leaned into her sofa and began to puff away watching television. Soon she started feeling lightheaded and giddy, and switched from watching sports to cartoons, specifically Tom and Jerry. She started cracking up, glowing with a feeling of euphoria and comfort. She felt relaxed and lazy, her mind whirling with thoughts of all the new foods she would try in the days ahead as she zoned out watching cartoons. Soon the munchies hit her, and they hit her hard. She hadn’t eaten all day yet, hoping to build her appetite a bit, and suddenly she felt hungrier than she ever had before in her whole life. “So this is what being high feels like, I can definitely get into this!” Beth thought to herself. As she prepared to leave and get food, it finally began to sink in for Beth that she was free, free to unleash her inner hunger and push herself to become the big, fat, horny gluttonous goddess she always wanted to be. Years of denying herself junk food were over, she could finally fulfill her desire to pig out. Taking one last look at her slim body in the mirror, running her hands over her hard, athletic form, she sighed, longing to put on some serious weight. “This is it.” Beth said to herself as she left her place to go binge on fast food. When she arrived at McDonalds she was so hungry she ordered a large double quarter pounder with cheese meal and a bacon cheeseburger. She never ordered so much food in her life. Grabbing a seat at a table, observing the feast before her, Beth drooled with anticipation. As she bit into the bacon cheeseburger her taste buds exploded in her mouth. Oh, it was so juicy and tender, the best thing Beth had ever eaten, how could she have denied herself this for so long? Moaning with pleasure, taking two larger bites, Beth was officially no longer a vegan. Her french fries tasted so delicious and salty as she crammed them in her face. They made her thirsty, though, so Beth took a huge gulp of her very first soda. Sweet! It was so unbelievably sweet! Beth loved the way the soda tickled her throat and made her belly feel warm and fuzzy. Plunging into her double quarter pounder with one hand while shoveling french fries in her face with the other Beth was in heaven. She felt so stuffed, and could barely get halfway through her second cheeseburger before she put it down. Upset that she couldn’t finish her meal, she started to get up when a wave of determination hit her. What was she doing? She was free to eat whatever she wanted and she was throwing food away? She sat her skinny ass back down and scarfed the rest of the burger, ignoring her protesting stomach. Finishing her soda, she let out a loud belch and rubbed her full tummy, admiring the tiny bulge that formed beneath her abs. Beth fell in love with junk food that day, changing her life forever. While driving home Beth stopped and picked up a six-pack of lager for herself, looking forward to trying her first beer. The whole way home she was mesmerized by her full stomach, the way it pushed out and swelled. She was so overwhelmed with all kinds of new sensations, getting high, feeling a sugar rush from all the carbs she consumed, how heavy the food felt settling in her stuffed gut. Soon she would add getting drunk to her list of new feelings. What an exciting day she was having! Back at her apartment Beth laid out on her couch and started chugging beer after beer. It was bitter, and heavy, and she felt it expand in her stomach as she gulped more and more. She wasn’t so sure about the taste, but she loved the tingly carbonated feeling it gave her and how it tasted like liquid bread. She soon polished off four beers, and as she stood up to put the rest in her fridge she stumbled and grabbed onto her kitchen counter. Dizzy and uncoordinated, Beth put away her two remaining beers and stumbled into her bedroom where she switched on her camera. “Hi Diary! Uh…umm, I’m kinda drunk…ha, and still a bit high. And also…” She leaned into the camera as if she were sharing a secret with it. “I’m no longer a vegan! Hic! I’m…I’m stuffed full of McDonalds!” Beth removed her shirt and proudly displayed her distended gut. Giving it a few quick pats with her hand, Beth let out a loud belch. Giggling, she covered her mouth, cheeks flush with embarrassment. “Excuse me, Diary, I’ve never burped like that before! So, anyway, I’ve officially started my weight gain journey. Soooo, I’m kinda sleepy now, I think I’m gonna go nap. Gotta practice being lazy, teehee! So until next time, Diary, I’m just going to keep stuffing my face like today!” Stripping and falling into bed, Beth fell into her first of many food comas. Getting herself up by early evening, she smoked another blunt and went out in search of even more food. During the first week of her new lifestyle Beth stuffed herself full of all the fast food, meats, pastas, deserts, and other meals she had refrained from her whole life. She was constantly stoned, and tried new kinds of beers and liquors, her favorite being a mix of rum and coke. She kept herself painfully full, bloated, and tired, but she loved it, she loved feeling sleepy and stuffed all the time. Whenever she got too nauseous from her sudden change in diet, she just smoked some pot, helping her stomach settle and feeling hungry again in no time. Since she had given up veganism, she tried steak, chicken, pork, turkey, and especially bacon. Beth loved bacon; she didn’t know how she had lived without it for so long. She piled it on everything she ate, sandwiches, burgers, french fries, pizza, baked potatoes, she just couldn’t get enough. Beth also loved pastries, ice cream, candy, and especially chocolate. She had no idea she had such a sweet tooth. She loved chocolate cake more than anything, and would have a slice to top off her fast food binges on most nights. After a couple of weeks of eating like this, Beth finds she’s no longer feeling sick after she pigs out. Good, her body is starting to adjust, this is exactly what she wants. Slowly and deliberately, Beth was turning herself into a junk food junkie. Another week later and instead of feeling sick at the thought of pushing herself to cram more fattening food inside her, Beth begins to find she craves it. She gets high on the sugar rush from all the carbs she consumes, loving it when her body crashes and she hungers for more. Her empty stomach would cry out to be filled with fatty, greasy fast food, and sweet, sugary treats. Beth found herself developing into a binge/crave cycle, and she allowed herself to slip further into it. She was purposefully getting herself addicted to fatty foods and carbohydrates. Sometimes Beth would wonder what she was doing, how could she be so unhealthy? Then her growing appetite would strike and she’d seek out a new delicious high-calorie meal she never tried before. Beth was both excited and scared of what would happen to her if she kept eating like this. She would eat herself sick sometimes, she was still testing her limits and finding out what she liked, but she was getting better at it. With every binge she felt a little less ill, and a little more hungry. She was slowly stretching out her stomach. How far would this ultimately go? Would she ever be satisfied? She was being overwhelmed by so many new tastes and sensations, it made her so horny thinking of everything she ate so far and everything she was going to eat. Her old healthy habits and ways of thinking were quickly losing a battle against her lust to be a fat, hungry pig. A little over a month goes by and Beth is in love with her new life. Her days consist of nothing but smoking weed, binge eating, drinking, napping, watching TV, and playing video games. It was hard for her to gauge if she was putting on any weight, her belly was stuffed constantly and she couldn’t tell what was food weight and what was fat. The scale went between 110-115 pounds depending on how full she was. She looked absurd, this thin, scrawny former athlete with her midsection constantly stuffed full of food. Beth just couldn’t keep her hands off of her gut, longing for the day it grew into a big fat belly that she could jiggle. She was upset that she had only gained a few pounds so far and did not really notice any changes on her body yet, but she realized that her metabolism was still probably really high from eight years of soccer. In order to start packing on weight she needed to break her metabolism, and she was doing everything she could to get there. Beth would almost always skip breakfast, instead starting the day with nothing but an energy drink, beer or soda. Then, after her morning smoking session, the cravings would hit her and she would binge until she was painfully full, and then force herself to stuff more junk food down her throat anyway, training her body to overeat. The rest of the day was spent smoking pot, sleeping, and snacking in front of the television. Then right before bed Beth would have a final binge, the biggest feast of the day, where she would push her eating capacity to its limits. She fell asleep every night completely gorged and rubbing her swollen, aching gut. So far, Beth had been unable to eat an entire pizza for her last meal of the day, always leaving a couple slices left in the box. Last attempt there was only one slice left, and no matter how hard she tried, she could not finish it. Tonight she decided to change that. Sitting stoned on her couch, Beth waits for her medium meat lovers pan pizza with buttery garlic sauce. She had already eaten so much today, she started with her usual energy drink, then for lunch she had an entire foot long turkey sub (extra meat, extra cheese, extra bacon), an entire bag of Doritos, a large bowl of creamy potato soup, and then munched on chocolate chip and Oreo cookies the rest of the day. She felt bloated, but was still so hungry. The pizza arrived; she tipped well, and then eagerly sat down to devour it. Beth knew that the faster she ate, the more likely she was to out-eat the signal from her brain telling her she was full. Therefore, without hesitation she plowed right into the pizza, barely paying attention to the television. Within five minutes she already ate half, dipping the crusts in the buttery garlic sauce and letting it drip down her chin as she crammed bite after bite into her mouth, quenching her thirst by chugging a 40 oz of lager. Feeling the sensation of fullness starting to hit her, she ignored it and forced herself to eat even faster, absolutely consuming three slices in no time. The final slice sat taunting her, and she was feeling as full as she usually got. Tipsy, stuffed to the brim, Beth moaned and rubbed her swollen gut. She needed to push her limits; she needed to grow into a fat piggy. Despite her entire body screaming at her, "No, don't, please stop eating, you're so full already, you’re breaking your metabolism, you're going to ruin your hot, young body!", she instead laid back on the couch and slowly pulled down her pajama bottoms. Masturbating with one hand and rubbing her stomach with the other, she let out a large belch, giving her just enough room to finish the pizza. Rubbing her clit furiously, moaning in absolute ecstasy, the last slice slowly disappeared into her. She then tilted her head back and chugged the last of her 40 oz while she came with tremendous force as the final gulp slid down her throat. Drunk and playing with her overfed gut, having pushed her appetite to new limits, Beth began to wonder just how far her weight gain fetish would take her… “Well hello again, Diary, notice anything different about me?” Beth twirled for her camera, showing off her nude body. Her small, round tits were beginning to blossom, and her butt now jiggled a tiny bit when she walked. Her abs were slowly vanishing, and the gap between her growing thighs was beginning to disappear. “I’m a little over ten pounds heavier than the last time I recorded! Right now I’m about 118 pounds and I it’s really starting to show! Wanna see my new measurements?” Beth grabbed her measuring tape and began to slowly take measurements of each part of her body, showing them off for her camera as she did so. “My boobs are now 32.5”, my waist is now 25”, my butt has grown to 36”, and finally my thighs are now 12.5”. I’m going to have a bubble-butt and thunder thighs for sure! I wish my belly and boobs would grow more, but all in good time, right Diary?” Beth put away her measuring tape and sat on the edge of her bed. “So I’m absolutely in looooovveeee with being a gainer. There’s absolutely nothing sexier in the world than just eating everything I’ve always dreamed and getting fatter. I’ve tried all sorts of new food since my last recording, and there’s still so much more out there! I love smoking pot, and drinking is fun too, but I definitely love smoking weed more. Beer is so tasty, though, and filling! Oh, and guess what? I went to the doctor’s recently! That’s right, I had a physical! The doctor took my blood pressure, measured my cholesterol, and weighed me, as well as taking a blood sample. The doctor actually told me that I’m within a healthy weight range now, and while my cholesterol was a little higher than my last visit I’m still within a normal range and have nothing to worry about. I told her that I had given up veganism and the doctor said that’s probably why I put on some weight. She said as long as I watch my sugar levels and continue to exercise I’ll be fine. Pff, yeah, right!” As Beth said this, she pulled out a box of cupcakes from behind her. “I wonder if these have any sugar in them?” Beth said innocently, and then, winking for the camera, began to eat all twelve cupcakes, consuming them in only one or two bites. Licking the frosting from her lips and fingertips, rubbing her stomach, Beth turned off her camera and took a nap. Not long after she had just started to put on a little weight, Beth received a phone call. It was from her personal trainer, Sheila, who told her that she had professional soccer teams lining up to have her show up for tryouts. Beth saw this as an opportunity to see just how out of shape she’d gotten since becoming a glutton, and told Sheila to go ahead and sign her up, adding that she was in the middle of having a steak dinner with mac and cheese and a baked potato. “Wow, that’s a lot of food. Aren’t you a vegan?” Sheila asked. “Oh, I gave that up.” Beth responded. “Well, if anyone deserves a break it’s you, Beth. Hope you’re working those calories off with some hard practice, I haven’t seen you at the gym in awhile. Well, anyway, take care Champ!” “Yeah, okay, sure. Bye Sheila!” Beth said sarcastically. Of course she had no intention of burning off any of these calories. She couldn’t wait to see how her new body performed at tryouts. A week later Beth showed up to her first tryout dressed in tight gym clothes. She had just crested 120 pounds so she still wasn’t fat by any means. In fact, her BMI indicated that she was at a normal weight, but this didn’t stop the dirty looks and sneering from rival soccer players. It also probably didn’t help that Beth had just binged at Taco Bell and her full, bloated stomach was on display for everyone to see. She stifled a belch as she scanned the area for the signup tent. Sheila was there and caught Beth’s attention, waving her over. “Beth! Hi! How’s the post-college life treating you?” It was then that Sheila noticed Beth’s full, stuffed tummy poking out over the elastic waistband over her gym shorts, and that every bit of her appeared just a little bit thicker. “I see the real world’s been treating you well, eh hon?” Sheila said pinching the small bit of flesh that was on Beth’s stomach, “Where are those abs disappearing to?” “Oh, I’ve been indulging a bit.” Beth answered, flushed, and a little turned on. “It’s nothing to worry about, champ. All athlete’s weights fluctuate now and then. I hope you’ve at least been practicing a little bit, this is your big day! You just come back down to the gym and we’ll shed that bit of weight in no time at all!” Sheila said enthusiastically. “Beth! Beth Edoness! You’re up!” The ref yelled. It was her turn to be timed running one mile. Beth turned and left Sheila and headed to the starting line. As Beth positioned herself she felt her full stomach against the top of her thigh. Everything was tight and constrained in her old gym outfit, it was an exciting new feeling to know she was outgrowing her old clothing. “This is gonna be great!” Beth thought just as the whistle blew and she began running. Almost immediately Beth felt a difference. On just her first lap around the track she was already starting to break a sweat. On her second lap she was really breathing heavy, but was also determined to run as fast as her new body could handle so that she could accurately gauge how unhealthy she truly was at this point. The third and fourth lap were the worst. Her legs were sore, her lungs were gasping for air, and sweat poured down her face. Beth was amazed what only a few months of unbridled gluttony and hedonism had accomplished, she really was getting out of shape. “Eight minutes, thirty-six seconds.” The ref called out. Giggles erupted from the stands as the other girls marveled at how the former soccer star had added over two whole minutes to her top time. To top it all off, where she once looked graceful and limber when she finished running before, she now looked tired, out of breath, and drenched in sweat from only running one mile. How could she possibly play a whole soccer game? “Thank you, Beth Edoness. Next!” The ref shouted. Running to meet her, Sheila looked more than a little disappointed. “What the hell was that, Beth? Have you been practicing at all? What have you been doing the past couple of months? You know, I really vouched for you here, and you show up looking like crap and performing like that? Almost a nine minute mile? Are you kidding me, Beth?” Sheila scorned. Beth just held up a finger, smiled, and said, “Sheila, I’m sorry you vouched for me. And I’m going to be honest here, I’m never playing soccer again. You’re fired.” Sheila just stood there, stunned. “Sweety, I’m sorry I blew up at you like that, but-“ “Goodbye, Sheila.” Beth interrupted. She then got in her car and sparked a joint while she drove off into the evening. All that physical exertion made her hungry, Beth felt she deserved a treat. Pulling into a Burger King she sat down stilled dressed in her tight gym clothes and proceeded to cram herself full of whoppers, onion rings, and chocolate shake until she was beyond full. Continuing to stuff herself and binge regularly, after five more months of overeating she now weighs in at 146 pounds. On the verge of being chubby, the body of the former athlete was disappearing under soft layers of fat. She was growing curvy in all the right places. Her legs had thickened up quite a bit since the majority of the weight went to her thighs, hips, and butt. Her thighs now touched, a new sensation for Beth, and it only made her lust to grow even bigger. She now had a soft tummy, and her tits had grown tremendously, going from a small, perky A cup to a soft, round, C cup. Her arms had lost most of their definition, and her face was showing the slightest hint of softness. Beth was surprised how much weight she had gained in her ass and breasts, delighted that she was developing into an hourglass figure. She loved wearing shorts that she had outgrown, letting her bubble butt hang out. She could not keep her hands off her new boobs, and looked forward to growing them even further. “Oh, hi there Diary,” Beth cooed as she stood in front of her camera, “like what you see?” Beth ran her hands over her new, softer body. She jiggled her new tits, slapped her rounding ass and thighs, and shook the soft flesh forming over her midsection. “I’ve been such a naughty piggy lately. I just can’t stop eating! My appetite has grown so much since I started gaining, it’s incredible! And it’s only getting bigger and bigger every time I binge and stuff myself full of so…much…food. Let’s do measurements! Okay, so, bear with me, I’m still a little drunk from polishing off that pile of pancakes and vodka this morning, heh. Check it out, I’ve grown a nice set of tits!” Beth squeezed her boobs together with her arms for the camera. “And I actually have cleavage! It’s amazing! Anyway, my chest is now 36”, my waist is 27”, my juicy ass is almost 40”, holy cow, and my thighs are 17.5”. I’m turning into quite the fat ass, Diary. So, anyway, I’m really starting to get hungry again, so this is gonna be a quick update. Bye! Kisses!” That night Beth decided she would go out to a Chinese buffet. She enjoyed stuffing herself in public, the looks she got turned her on. She always wore tight clothing that showed off her growing assets and a belly shirt that proudly displayed her stuffed gut. At the buffet, Beth put away plate after plate of food. Chicken and broccoli, egg rolls, sushi, dumplings, stuffed mushrooms, they all found their way into Beth's stomach. After three heaping plates full of food, Beth got up for desert. As she did, a button popped off her shorts. A kid in the next booth laughed at her as his mother shushed him, and regardless of the situation Beth got a plate full of pie anyway before leaving. Sitting back at her booth, shorts unzipped, panties on full display, she shoveled the pies in her face, washing them down with mountain dew, and let out a satisfied belch. Satisfied and extremely horny from her public display of gluttony she hoisted herself out of her booth. Cradling her stuffed gut with one hand and holding her pants up with the other, Beth meandered awkwardly out to her car and drove back home. That night Beth had a dream. She dreamed she sat in front of a banquet table covered in food that was all just for her. Grinning, she dug in, every bite adding to her growing body. In her dream, Beth kept eating until she was over two hundred pounds, then three hundred, then four hundred. As she got too big to feed herself, a hose descended from the ceiling. Placing it in her mouth, a thick chocolate shake was pumped into her. She could feel herself getting fatter with every swallow, her belly reaching her toes, her ass engulfing the chair. Even when she was as big as a house she still couldn’t stop filling herself up. Her mammoth body took up city blocks. She was just a huge, creamy white blob that could not stop drinking her weight gain shake. Sucking down more and more of the magical liquid her body expanded across landscapes, becoming impossibly huge. She didn’t stop, she couldn’t stop, she was a slave to her hunger and was stuck, attached to her feeding tube, fattening herself forever. Beth awoke and shot up in bed. Panting heavily, moaning, drenched in sweat, Beth’s hands moved up and down her new body. Jiggling her tits, massaging her round ass, caressing her thick thighs and soft midsection, Beth’s dream had made her extremely horny. Glancing at her clock, Beth saw she had slept in until one in the afternoon. Inspired by her dream, Beth had a devious idea. Getting dressed in tight, hip-hugging jeans and a low-cut top that showed off her new boobs, she drove to the corner grocery and GNC to gather supplies. She was going to make a fattening weight gain shake like the one in her dream. Finding the highest calorie weight gainer they had available at GNC, Beth brought it to the counter. “So your boyfriend lifts weights, huh?” The man behind the counter said, staring at Beth’s tits as he rung her up. Beth noticed this, and leaned over the counter to show off more cleavage. “No, I’m single, it’s all for me.” She answered, patting her small tummy. “Ummm, you know this stuff is high calorie weight gainer, right?” “Mhmm…” Beth said as she left to buy groceries. The GNC cashier watched her leave, admiring her sexy ass from behind as she walked out the door. Damn, she’d be smoking hot if it weren’t for that little tummy, he thought. She was single, though, maybe he should as her on a date. As Beth walked back to her car she saw that the GNC cashier was standing outside of the store smoking a cigarette. He turned and smiled at her as she loaded her trunk with groceries. “Hey beautiful, wanna go out sometime? I think we’d rea…” The GNC cashier trailed off when he saw what Beth had in her grocery bags: a dozen pints of ice cream, gallons of whole milk, cartons of heavy whipping cream, chocolate syrup, peanut butter, and a very large blender. He couldn’t believe it, this woman was serious about buying that weight gainer for herself! This had to be some kind of joke; surely she was just playing with him. “You’re not mixing the weight gainer with all that, are you?” “Maybe…” Beth responded, realizing how crazy this all must have looked. “That’s insane! Why would you do that?” It was insane, and Beth knew it. Drinking this weight gain shake would absolutely blow her up in no time and she was caught red handed preparing to fatten herself. In that moment Beth completely stopped caring what other people thought of her and her new lifestyle. Instead, she owned it, and while rubbing her soft tummy, blushing, she said, “I’m getting fat on purpose.” As she got in her car and drove off, leaving the GNC employee stunned speechless. Did she just say what he thinks she said? She’s getting fat on purpose? What is she, nuts? Doesn’t she realize that there were tons of women out there who’d kill for a body like hers? Shaking his head and returning to behind the register, the GNC employee went back to his business, bewildered. Back at her apartment Beth began mixing together her weight gain shake. She grabbed a pint of ben and jerry's peanut butter cup ice cream from the freezer, one cup of heavy whipping cream, two cups of whole milk, chocolate syrup, and four scoops of weight gain powder. The shake was about three thousand calories all together, incredibly rich and tasty. Mixing it in a blender, she tilts her head back and begins sucking down the fattening drink like in her dream. Beth’s free hand explores her growing, softening frame, playing with her new tits, slapping her rounding ass, and massaging her stuffed and bloated gut. She just couldn’t stop, could she? She needed this, she needed to constantly make a fat pig of herself. Her dream inspired her, and any reluctance she still had toward her new lifestyle vanished as she sucked down her weight gain shake. Finishing every drop, she set the blender on the counter, vowing to drink one of these every night from now on, and stumbled into her bedroom where she brought herself to a glorious climax before drifting off to sleep. By her 23rd birthday, after a full year of bingeing on junk food, smoking pot, and drinking, Beth had grown quite chubby, on the brink of fatness, weighing in at 176 pounds. Thanks to the weight gain shakes that she was consuming every night she piled on the weight faster than ever. She now had thick thighs and a jiggling, plump ass that were both now home to a bit of cellulite. Small stretch marks were just starting to appear on her hips and tummy. Her stomach pushed out further and further every day, and she was just a few more pounds away from having an official belly. Creases were appearing on her sides that would soon turn into rolls of fat, and her breasts were starting to show signs of stretch marks too as they grew into a full D cup and began to hang a bit. Any definition in her arms is now buried under layers of fat, and her rounder face is beginning to sprout a double chin. Beth ran her hands over her body, admiring her transformation from a petite, athletic vegan into a hungry, chubby piglet. Beth turned on her camera to record her latest entry into her video diary. As she did so she was still holding an ice cream sandwich that she was snacking on. Finishing off her creamy treat before even saying anything, Beth turned and smiled at the camera. “Notice anything different about me, Diary?” Picking up her camera, Beth held it close to her tummy. “I’ve got my first stretch marks! They’re just starting to form now, look, I even have them just appearing on my boobs and hips too! Aren’t they cute? I just adore them. And guess what else? It’s my birthday today! Aren’t stretch marks just the perfect birthday present for a growing fatty?” Setting the camera back down and lighting a blunt, her naked chubby body sitting on the edge of her bed, Beth began to talk to her video camera about all her recent developments. “See what else I got myself for my birthday? Do you see that device above my bed? I bought a milkshake mixer with a tube attached that I can use it to lay in bed and suck down the weight gain shakes I’ve been making! Isn’t that amazing? I’ve only had it for a week now, but I think it might’ve contributed to these forming.” Beth said with a smile as she gestured to her small, red stretch marks. “I went back to the doctor’s this week for a new physical, and boy, was she surprised! She said I was on the verge of stage one obesity, which I find hard to believe. That BMI scale is fun to help me track my gain, but I hardly feel obese. I’ve certainly grown quite chubby, though.” Beth smiled coyly, running her hands over her soft flesh and jiggling her thighs and tits a bit as she did so. She really couldn’t stop touching herself, she was so amazed by her chubby body. “So the doctor also pointed out my new stretch marks, which I thought was kinda hot, and told me they were because I’ve been piling on weight so quickly. I think she was trying to guilt trip me into being healthier, but what does she know? She also said my blood pressure and cholesterol were starting to get pretty high, and that I really, really need to start watching what I eat.” Unwrapping another ice cream sandwich Beth polished it off almost immediately. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” Beth said, rolling her eyes, “anyway, let’s do measurements, so let’s see here, my D cup tits are now 40”, wow, my knockers really filled out! I now have a 30” waist, which isn’t too bad for a growing piggy. And check this out, my booty is now 43.5”! I have such a big butt, I keep knocking things over with it! And my thighs are 21.5” around. Mmmmm….” Beth took another moment to feel herself up again, and eat another ice cream sandwich. Rubbing her tummy, she let out a tiny fart and giggled. “Heehee, sorry about that. These new eating habits of mine are kinda rough on my digestive system. So, anyway, I tried running a mile again! It took me twelve minutes! You should’ve seen me diary, I looked so silly. My boobs bounced everywhere, my thighs brushed together, my ass and tummy jiggling wildly, oh man, it was soooo sexy. I was down to a light jog by the time I finished! I really am slowly turning myself into a big, fat, lazy pig, aren’t I? Well, that’s it for this entry, I have something extra special planned for my birthday tonight. Bye for now!” Later, on her way to get something to eat, Beth was daydreaming of all the food she was going to devour today. She planned to stuff herself good on her birthday, and was going to start by revisiting the McDonalds she began her journey at a year ago. Having a seat in the restaurant, she noticed the cashier recognized her and the look on his face said he could not believe this formerly svelte beauty had let herself go so much. Beth's plump ass squeezed through the bottom of her shorts while her new muffin top spilled over the sides. She wore a stretchy tube top that proudly displayed her midriff and ample bosom. Beth did not want to hide her gluttony, her need to be fattened, she had been doing that most her life. She wanted people to see her chubby body with its fresh stretch marks. She wanted them to know what she was doing to herself. It made her so hot. Ordering two large double quarter pounder meals with chocolate shakes for the drinks, Beth began to dig in. Ravenously gorging, taking huge, monstrous bites, dipping her french fries in her shakes and stuffing them in her face with both hands, she was definitely getting the attention she wanted from the workers and other patrons. One double quarter pounder was quickly devoured, followed by french fries slathered in ketchup. The second double quarter pounder was gone almost as fast. Removing the lid and straw from one of her chocolate shakes, Beth leaned her head back and poured it straight down her gullet, letting out a loud, un-lady-like burp as she set her cup down. Kicking her legs back and forth under the table in childlike glee, Beth finished the last bit of her french fries and chocolate shake. She was delighted and proud of herself that she was able to plow through the meal with ease, and remembered that a year ago she was barely able to choke down a second burger. Standing up, she went up to the counter to order a big mac. "Mam, I know it's none of my business," the young cashier said shyly, "but you've been coming here for a year now and, well, aren't you worried about your health?" "Why would I be worried about that?" Beth asked, pretending to be naive. "You were just so thin back then. And now, you’ve kind of, well, I mean..." “Well, a growing girl’s gotta eat!” Beth said, cutting him off. The cashier just stood there completely befuddled, unable to believe his ears. Beth just laid money down and reached across the counter, her deep cleavage pushing out of her tube top, and grabbed the big mac out of the cashier’s hands. She stuffed it in her face right in front of him, rubbed her protruding gut as she slowly pushed the last bite in, savoring the fat, greasy treat. The young cashier just stared at her, awestruck. How could this young woman let herself get so chubby? How could she continue to eat so recklessly, couldn’t she see that she was slowly turning herself into a fatty? With that, Beth left the McDonalds, swaying her generous ass provocatively as she walked out the front door to her car. Excited by her encounter with the cashier, she decided she was not done eating yet, and wanted, no, needed to be filled full of delicious ice cream. Getting in her car and lighting a joint, she drove to the local ice cream parlor. Sitting in the corner with two large sundaes, she savored every rich, decadent bite. Moaning from both being overstuffed and from pleasure, rubbing her gut as she consumed more and more ice cream, people couldn't help but notice this chubby, scantily clad young woman making a pig of herself without a care in the world. As Beth scraped the bottom of the second sundae she got up and went home. As soon as she got back home she fell asleep, allowing the thousands of calories she had just consumed to digest. Waking up that evening, Beth had something special planned for herself on the nightly feast of her birthday. She was going to eat an entire cake to herself in front of her camera. She had the cake specially made, having them draw an icing pig eating from a trough on top. Instead of her age, she had them write her weight, with the number 176 written in icing on top of the pig. Having given the food in her tummy time to settle, she was now hungry again. “Hello again, Diary. Are you ready for this? Remember that special thing I had planned for myself that I told you about this morning? Well hear it is. I’m going to eat this entire birthday cake using no utensils. It has my weight written on it, and a picture of a piggy! Isn’t it just so cute? So yeah, I’m about to stuff myself full of birthday cake! Ready? Set. Here I go!” Sitting at her kitchen table with nothing to distract her, using no utensils, Beth starts shoveling handfuls of cake in her mouth. Crumbs and icing cover her face, hands, and fingers, and she greedily licks them clean between mouthfuls of moist pastry. As the cake slowly begins to disappear, and Beth begins to feel herself reach the limits of her stomach capacity, she gets her second wind, brings the cake to the floor, and prepares to eat it with nothing but her mouth. Running her hands over her naked body, shoving her face into the cake, her large, quivering rear end up in the air, stuffed belly pushing against her thighs, breasts hanging free, and mimicking the fat pig on her birthday cake, she continues to stuff herself full of the sweet pastry just like a prize piggy at a trough. When she finished every bite of the cake, she lay stuffed against one of her kitchen counters, drearily holding her bloated gut. As if in a daze, she begins to pull herself to her feet using the counter for support. Against all logic, against all reason, she begins to mix a weight gain shake. Pouring the thousands of calories of the shake into the container above her bed and moving her camcorder into the bedroom, she lies back in bed and begins to suck every drop into her overstuffed stomach. Playing with herself and squirming in unbridled ecstasy, Beth orgasms repeatedly as one hand masturbates her sopping wet pussy while the other explores her expanding, overfed body. Content with having just pushed her appetite further than she had all year, Beth lies on her side, rubbing her gorged tummy, and falls into a food coma, her camera left recording into the night. After the binge on her 23rd birthday Beth redoubled her efforts to get as fat as possible. It was a need, deep inside her, that grew with every pound she gained. She needed to be buried in fat, covered in countless rolls, her skin home to legions of stretch marks and cellulite. She needed it so intensely, she could not stand it. Therefore, in only two months’ time, Beth’s gluttony had caused her to gain twenty more pounds leaving her at about 196. Even though she was just shy of two hundred pounds, Beth felt she was officially a fatty now. Standing in her apartment, playing with her full, heavy DD breasts, Beth was examining all of the changes on her body in one of the many mirrors she had around her home. She was about to record a new video entry, and she had just stuffed herself full of two cheesesteaks and a heaping pile of perogies and onion rings, washing it all down with rum and coke. She loved checking herself out while standing in front of a full-length mirror, playing with all her new fat. It sometimes surprised her how big she was now. She loved catching all those little milestones of her weight gain. It was the little things, like when she saw her ass starting to jiggle when she walked at around 120, her tummy starting to crease when she bent over at around 150, cellulite and stretch marks by 175, and now, finally, at 196 pounds she officially had a double chin and a belly that would hang down even when she was standing. Due to how fast she was piling on weight her stretch marks had spread further. Little red lines were creeping along her belly, sides, boobs, hips, thighs and butt, growing longer and thicker. The creases on her sides had turned into soft folds, and her plump, juicy ass and meaty thighs just kept ballooning, continuing to be her largest feature. Beth could no longer pass for just being chubby; she was a full-fledged fatty now, and getting fatter and fatter every day. “Mmmmm…Hi, Diary. Guess what I’ve been up to?” Beth lifted her tiny belly and jiggled it. “That’s right. I’ve been pigging the fuck out. See how my belly hangs now even when I’m standing? That belly is just going to hang lower and lower, because I’m nowhere near done growing this fat ass of mine. I’m so stuffed right now, too. So full of cheesesteak and fried food. I swear my stretch marks spread even further than they were yesterday. Ooof, I’m so full, but, ya know, maybe just a little bit more wouldn’t hurt. What do you think, Diary?” With that, Beth pulled out a jar full of peanut butter cups to munch on while she took her latest measurements for her video log. Moaning seductively and with pleasure while stuffing her face with candy, Beth proceeded to measure herself. Her mouth was too full of food to say the measurements out loud, so instead she just showed the tape to the camera. Her chest and tits ballooned to 42.5”, her waist was now 33”, her huge ass was 46.5”, and she now sports 24” round thighs. Swallowing what she had in her mouth, Beth spoke to her camera, “As you can see my bedroom is covered in pastries and sweets. I’ve also invested in a second weight gain shake container above my bed to help keep me stuffed. Also, and I know this is kinda crazy, but I found these prescription appetite enhancers through an online source, and bought enough to last me years. So yeah, here’s to my first dose of appetite enhancer!” Beth then showed two blue pills to the camera, and popped them in her mouth. “You see, Diary, I plan on staying in my room, stuffing myself full of all these delicious treats and ordering delivery until I’m well over 200 pounds. I will not leave here until I’m there. The next time you see me I’m going to be a 200 plus pound fatty!” Full of anticipation, ready to begin her experiment, Beth lay down naked in her bed and began to stuff herself silly. When she could not handle any more pastry she sucked down the weight gain shake from the tube, only taking breaks to smoke pot, nap, and masturbate. All day she feasted, rubbing her bulging, distended gut, allowing herself to rudely belch and pass gas without restraint. She was caring less and less about her manners these days, she was enjoying being a bit of a slob. Those appetite enhancers worked wonders too, she was able to eat non-stop. She was in ecstasy, addicted to the rush of being stuffed beyond sanity. After hours of doing this to herself, Beth, while stuffing one éclair after another into her maw, notices that her pastry supply is running short and that amazingly enough she would need more. She also realized that since she had to get up anyway, she might as well make more of the weight gain mixture. Moreover, hell, why get up now? Why not order a pizza, get up when it arrives, and take care of everything else then? So that is what Beth did. She ordered an extra-large stuffed crust pizza with ranch dressing to dip the crusts in and when it arrived she gathered more pastries and goodies from her pantry, mixed more weight gain shake, then plopped her bulky ass back in bed with a bottle of vodka and began shoveling as much food as she could into her round face. This went on for weeks, but Beth either did not know or did not care. She was lost in a nirvana of food and gluttony, seemingly unaware that she passed 200 pounds days ago. All she did all day was eat, get high, eat, get drunk, eat, get high, then eat some more. Her belly slowly inflated in front of her and her body widened and took up more space on the bed. Observing herself from the mirror above, she watched as her stretch marks worked their way over her midsection, and how she was forming fresh ones on her arms. After over a month of unbridled feasting in bed, Beth awoke in drunken daze to a room full of pizza boxes, Chinese food bags, pastry wrappers, empty ice cream containers, milk jugs, soda bottles, and just about anything else you could imagine. Drearily, slightly hung over, she rolled out of bed and wandered to the kitchen to discover she had eaten everything in her apartment! She couldn't believe it, how long had she been pigging out? Catching a glimpse of herself standing in the mirror, Beth gasped at how much fatter she had gotten in such a short amount of time. There was no way she could hide that double chin now, not that she wanted to, and her arms were so much softer and heavier than ever before. She hugged her large, swollen tits and loved the way her plump arms made everything feel so plush. Her breasts were so large now, none of the bras she owned would fit her, and they began to rest on either side of her protruding gut. Her belly was really starting to take on weight, jutting out proudly, but it was no match for her massive ass. Wow, her butt had really plumped up! She could not believe it! She reached back and grabbed it with both hands, kneading the soft dimpled flesh of her huge behind. Her hands moved to her sides, playing with her fleshy rolls. She then grabbed her belly in both hands and shook it, causing every bit of her to shake and wobble. Who was this fat butterball in the mirror? This shameless, hungry hog, covered in stretch marks? It couldn’t possibly be her, could it? Moaning, biting her lower lip, hypnotized by her new reflection, Beth could hardly conceive that she let herself get this big. Running to the bathroom to weigh herself, her whole body jiggling wildly as she moved, she stepped on the scale and saw it land on 218 pounds. Amazing, in almost a year and a half Beth managed to pile on over a hundred pounds! A whimper escapes Beth’s lips, and as her legs buckle beneath her she falls to the floor and begins masturbating. A hundred pounds, oh my, over a hundred pounds fatter, what a fat little piggy she has been. Orgasm after orgasm rocks her body as she thrashes in bliss over how fat she’s getting. What has she done to herself? She just cannot stop eating, oh, that hungry, horny, fattening feeling. She cannot keep her hands off herself, playing with her tits, rubbing her belly, squeezing her ass. She was just so fat now, and deep down, the part that turned her on the most was that she knew this was just the beginning. How far will she go, how big will she end up? Beth did not care, she only knew that she was hungry, and that she would keep eating and gaining until she was satisfied. Beth ran back to her bedroom, her whole body shaking, and turned on her camera. “Oh my God look what I’ve done to myself,” Beth nearly screamed, “I’m getting so fucking huge and I can’t stop eating! Holy shit, oh my god. I’ve been in a daze since my last entry, and I woke up today to find I’ve eaten everything, EVERYTHING in my apartment! I’m 218 pounds now!” Beth shook her belly for the camera. “Look at this fat gut, oh my god, holy shit, I’m so turned on right now. And hungry. So goddamn hungry all of the time. I need to eat, I’ll do measurements later, I just…” Beth paused, reflecting on what she meant to say next. “I needed to record this moment.” Popping some more appetite enhancers, smoking a blunt, and taking a shot of whiskey, Beth got dressed in the only thing that fit her, a hoody and sweatpants. She then got in her car and drove to the nearest all-you-can-eat buffet. Hungrier than she could ever remember being, Beth was eating food off of her plate before she even sat at a table. Loading plates high with mountains of fat and carbs to consume she ate all morning at the buffet. Pancakes, breakfast sandwiches, cinnamon buns, and piles and piles of bacon were devoured over the course of two hours. At one point while eating handfuls of bacon, Beth accidently let loose a rather loud fart. Some people sitting near her noticed, but didn’t say anything. Face turning bright red, Beth lifted her fat ass cheek up and let loose the rest of her gas, figuring she might as well at this point. Relieved, Beth reflected on how much gassier she’s been lately and what a fat, disgusting pig she was turning into. An hour later they brought out lunch, and Beth figured she might as well get her money’s worth. Piling her plates high with roast beef, potatoes, mac and cheese, wings, and pasta, she continued to fill the void that was her stomach. Employees took notice of this fat woman who had been slowly stuffing herself for hours non-stop, and Beth noticed them pointing and snickering to each other at how crazy she must have looked. Finally, after a plate full of cakes and ice cream, Beth felt it was time to go back home and finish her diary. “Okay Diary, I’m back, urrp, sorry, ugh, kinda really, really full. A growing girl’s gotta eat, ya know! So how about we measure this fat body of mine and see how much I’ve grown! I have to buy a whole new wardrobe, I’ve outgrown everything I own! Let’s get some measurements so I know which size clothes to buy, and, well, make sure they’re kinda slutty to show off this sexy fat ass of mine…” Beth wiggled her butt at the camera, the cellulite ridden flesh bouncing and waving. “Alright, so, where’s my measuring tape? Aw, here it is, under these Little Debbie wrappers and ice cream containers, teehee. Oh my, my chest is 45.5”, mmmm, my waist is 35”, heehee, oh my god, this big fat ass of my is 49.5”, holy shit, and my thighs are 26.5”. Jesus, I’m turning into a regular butterball, what a fat pig I’m becoming! I guess that’s what happens when you constantly stuff your face like I’ve been doing. Oh well, guess I’m truly a fatty now. Until next time, diary!” Beth turned off her camera and slipped into bed, cradling her swollen, fat belly. Four months later Beth lumbered into her doctor’s office for another physical. She hadn’t weighed herself in weeks, and was excited to see how much weight she’s piled on recently. Last time she stepped on a scale she was at just about 230, and she was really hoping she was over 250 by now. She purposefully refrained from checking though, she wanted to be just as surprised as her doctor. “Beth? Will you come with me please?” A nurse asked from the doorway. Hoisting her fat ass out of the seat, Beth followed the nurse down the hallway. She is starting to walk funny, she realizes, her big fat thighs pushing her legs further and further apart. She does very little walking anymore, and so this trip to the doctor’s office was one of the few times she got to examine how differently she moved. As Beth sat on the bed, she noticed the nurse going over her chart and her eyes widen when she scanned the weight from her last visit. She then composed herself. “The doctor will be here soon, but first I need a blood sample.” The nurse said. “No problem.” Beth said, lifting her sleeve. The nurse took a blood sample and left. Beth sat waiting for what seemed like forever, and when the doctor finally came in she looked at her chart, looked at Beth, looked at the chart again, and then turned and left without saying a word. At first, Beth was confused, but then she realized. “She thinks she has the wrong chart!” She mused, excitedly. The doctor returned and said bluntly, “Beth, you’ve put on a lot of weight since your last visit.” Well, duh, Beth thought, but instead she said, “I guess I have been filling out a bit, haven’t I?” “You have no idea how unhealthy this is for you. Look!” The doctor took Beth’s blood pressure. “You’re 140 over 190! Do you drink alcohol? Since when do you drink?” Beth flushed. The doctor held the stethoscope against Beth’s plush chest and told her to breathe. “And do you smoke? Your lungs sound weezy.” The doctor said. “Yes to both of those. I’ve taken up smoking pot and drinking.” Beth said honestly. “And the weight gain? What’s your diet like?” “Fast food, mostly. A lot of fast food.” Beth said, face turning bright red with both embarrassment and pleasure from this humiliating experience. “You need to stop, this is incredibly unhealthy. The blood sample shows a dangerously high blood sugar level, and your cholesterol is 240! You’re at serious risk for type two diabetes and heart problems later in life. You’re young, and I know you probably aren’t thinking ahead, but listen. If you get diabetes, that’s permanent, and you’ll never, ever be able to lose weight. You’ll be put on medication that regulates your insulin levels to overcome the resistance you’re building. If you keep eating like you are, the effects are irreversible, and even the medication will increase your levels of hunger and lethargy. You are shortening your lifespan. Do you understand what I’m telling you?” “Yes.” Beth said. “Do you plan on changing your lifestyle?” “I’ll do what I can.” Beth said, fingers crossed behind her back. “Good, let’s get you on the scale then.” Beaming with excitement, Beth stepped on the scale. “Two hundred and fifty four pounds. That’s stage three obesity.” Beth audibly gasped, her hand went to cover her mouth. “Surprised, are you? Well, it isn’t too late to turn this around, Beth. Come and see me again within the year for another checkup, eat healthy, and try and shed some of this weight. Here are some diet plans and weight loss pamphlets, these should help you.” Beth took the pamphlets from the doctor in a daze, still stunned that she now weighed over 250 pounds. Obese, the doctor said. Stage three obesity, that was so hot. And Beth had to agree, as she left the doctor’s office and threw the weight loss pamphlets in the trash, she was finally starting to feel obese. Later that day, dressed in workout clothes that barely fit her, Beth prepared to see how fast she could run a mile now. Standing at the starting line, she assumed position. Her belly pressed uncomfortably against her thighs as she bent down, her huge ass waving in the air. Her tits hung and swayed against her arms. It was laughable to think of how out of shape she was. Hitting her stopwatch, she gave it her all and pushed herself to run as fast as her new 254 pound obese body could carry her. She threw herself forward a few steps moving as fast as she could. Her legs brushed uncomfortably together, chaffing her inner thighs, and she had to swing them out and around just to manage to gain momentum. Her big, heavy tits bounced so much they slapped against her second chin. Her belly swayed ponderously, jiggling freely from beneath her low cut top. Her titanic ass bounced hypnotically. Every bit of her big fat body slapped against itself as she moved as fast as her fat legs would allow. She couldn’t even make it halfway around the track before she was walking, catching her breath. Determined to do her best, she pushed herself to try and lightly jog, and only managed another few yards before slowing down again, heaving and weezing. She just couldn’t run anymore. For the next two laps Beth walked as fast as she could, stopping every so often to catch her breath. She had some major heartburn, and her legs were incredibly sore. On her fourth lap her left leg cramped up hard on her, and she limped around the track, finally dragging her fat, exhausted, heaving body across the finish line. “24 minutes, five seconds.” Beth said, completely winded and covered in sweat. She paused for a moment considering this, and then started laughing. “Wow, I fucking suck at running now!” Beth mused as she dragged herself into her car and drove home. That evening, Beth felt it might be time to return to her gym one last time. Jiggling all over with each step, Beth entered her old gym to a lobby full of people who at first didn’t recognize the former soccer star. All they saw was a fat and bloated young woman who had clearly piled on a lot of weight recently, as evidenced by her fresh red stretch marks and extremely tight gym clothing. Only when Beth presented her gym pass, which showed a photo of her back when she was still playing soccer, did the receptionist recognize her. The receptionist’s eyes widened in shock, but she didn’t say anything to Beth. Instead, as Beth walked away she heard the receptionist whisper to her friends and the sounds of muffled laughter as they made fun of her behind her back. Ignoring them, moving forward, her roly-poly body shaking wildly with every step, Beth walked right past the treadmills, right past the weight benches, right past the swimming pool, and entered into the gym cafeteria. Going up to the counter she ordered a monster mass bodybuilding shake. She knew they were a thousand calories each, and the highest calorie drink they served here. The buff, athletic man behind the counter could not believe this fatso had just asked for a weight gainer. “Seriously? That’s the last thing you need. Can I recommend a juice instead?” “You’ll give me what I ask for.” Beth said as she slipped him a hundred dollar bill. Without making eye contact with her, sighing, the man behind the counter made Beth her monster mass weight gainer. As soon as he handed it to her she drank it immediately and asked for more. The poor guy couldn’t believe it, but as Beth gave him another hundred he gave in and made her another shake like the last one. Again, Beth finished it right in front of him and asked for another. Seeing him hesitate, Beth dangled another hundred in front of him while seductively rubbing her gut. “No, I’m sorry, I can’t encourage this.” He said while walking into the back room. Upset, Beth turned to leave, only to discover she had attracted a crowd with her shenanigans at the gym cafeteria. Word had spread that the former star athlete had more than doubled in size. People were taking pictures and video of her with their phones and whispering to each other, so she decided to entertain them. Walking over to the vending machine, she bought candy bar after candy bar. Reese’s, Kit-Kats, Hershey’s, Snickers, and she unwrapped and piled them all on a table in front of her. Sitting down, her hefty ass spilling over the sides of a chair meant for much smaller rumps than hers, she started shoving the sweet, sugary chocolate bars in her mouth. “Do you remember Beth, the soccer player? Well, look at her now!” Beth heard someone say as they pointed their camera phone at her. Looking up from her binge, Beth saw that a group of girls from a rival team she used to play against had gathered to record the star athlete turned fat heifer. They wanted to see a show? They were going to get one. Beth’s face and hands were smeared with chocolate as she consumed two Hershey bars stacked on top of each other at once. Finishing them, she popped two Reese’s Cups into her mouth, followed by a third one, her plump cheeks bulging full of peanut butter and chocolate. As she chewed, she felt someone tap her on the shoulder. “Beth, is that really you?” Sheila, her former trainer, asked in shock. “Oh yeth, thith ith all me.” Beth muffled through a mouthful of candy. “You’re huge!” Sheila exclaimed. Beth swallowed what she had in her mouth, let out a roaring belch, and while patting her belly, said, “I guess I have gotten pretty fat.” She then proceeded to pick up a Kit-Kat bar in each hand. “Why don’t you put those candy bars down, sweetie? I’m trying to help you.” “But I can’t stop eating!” Beth whined innocently. “Yes you can, I believe in you,” Sheila responded, unaware that Beth was just playing with her and had no intention of losing weight. Oblivious to this, Sheila continued, “Let’s get you back in shape, hon. There’s a treadmill free right over here, you’ll be running a six minute mile again in no time!” “Mmmm, but these are sooo good!” Beth moaned as she plowed Kit-Kats into her chocolate covered mouth. Laughing wildly at Beth, her soccer rivals had now gone to the vending machines themselves and were piling more candy in front of Beth to eagerly consume, taunting their former athletic rival to eat every last bite of it. Her tummy growled loud enough for the whole room to hear, and Beth snuck an ass cheek over the side of her seat and cut one loose. “Ewww, did she just fart? What a slob!” One of the girls announced. “Come on, eat up you cow!” Another shouted, laying out more candy in front of Beth. “Thanks, girls!” Beth said cheerfully, dumping a bag of M&M’s in her mouth. They had no idea how turned on she was. “Ladies, don’t encourage her! Leave!” Sheila demanded. The mob of skinny, athletic, giggling girls left, already uploading everything they recorded to the internet. This is exactly what Beth wanted to happen, she wanted the world to know that her soccer days were done. She was sick of getting calls and messages about soccer team tryouts, and she knew this would put an end to it. Unwrapping the mound of chocolate bars that the girls left for her, Beth just kept eating. “Beth, are you kidding me? Honey, this lifestyle is so unhealthy, please stop,” Sheila pleaded with Beth as she finished off the last of her treats, “just look at what you’re doing to yourself! I don’t know how or why you’ve let yourself get so fat, but it’s never too late to lose weight!” Beth heard her, but didn’t care, she was done here. Without another word, licking her chocolate covered fingers, she stood up, giving her wide load of an ass an extra wiggle for everyone to see as she strutted out the front door. Walking across the street to into a KFC, Beth ordered two huge buckets full of fried chicken. She sat by the glass window near the entrance so everyone in her old gym could see the formerly thin vegan cram herself full of delicious, greasy fried goodness. Back home, Beth began to record another video log. “Hi Diary, you wouldn’t believe the day this fat tub of lard had. First, I visited the doctor, and he said I’m at risk for diabetes! That means this weight gain will be permanent, I can never lose weight again. So, she was all like, I have to stop eating and be healthy, blah, blah blah. Of course I have no plans on stopping, so what if I’m unhealthy? I’m happier than I’ve been in my entire life and nothing is going to stop me from growing even fatter!” Beth had a third tub of fried chicken that she brought home with her from KFC, and began to shovel it into her mouth while sitting in bed. She licked the grease from her fingers and pulled out her measuring tape to record her latest progress. “My boobs are now 49”. Can you imagine? I never would’ve believed I’d grow such huge, fat, hanging tits, but here they are! Look at how big my areolas are now, my nipples are bigger too. They feel so sensitive; it’s so very, very sexy. My waist is 36.5”, and check out that belly! It’s hanging farther and farther these days, and holds oh so much food. And check out this fat, dimpled ass of mine! It’s 53”, and my thighs are 29”! I’m such a fat ass, Diary. Such a huge, fat piggy.” Throwing her measuring tape aside, Beth started plowing more greasy fried chicken into her fat face, licking her lips clean, and then took a sip of her soda. “So yeah, after the doctor’s I tried running a mile again. Twenty-four minutes and five seconds is how long it took me! Can you believe this fatty used to run that in a quarter of the time?” Beth stopped to devour another piece of chicken, chug some more soda, and let loose a belch. “And then, Diary, for the finale, I visited my old gym. You should’ve seen them! Everyone was so shocked, they teased me and took video of me which I’m sure has found it’s way online. Good. I’m glad that happened, I want the world to know that Beth Edoness is now a big, fat glutton! And with that, Diary, I believe I’m done here. I’m getting closer and closer to three hundred every day, and from there, who knows where I’ll go? Until next time!” Beth hoisted herself off her bed. Cradling her bucket of fried chicken, Beth walked ponderously over to her camera and turned it off. Turning back to her bed, she got herself comfortable and finished off the entire tub of fast food. Still hungry, she filled her containers with weight gain formula, and passed out in bed full of fattening milkshake. Three months later a 280 pound Beth sits on her kitchen floor, stuffing slice after slice of chocolate cheesecake into herself. After every huge bite of cheesecake, she reaches beside her for a can of whipped cream that she would then spray into her mouth. She had just gotten back from a buffet, and felt she needed to fill herself up even more; she needed to burst out of her clothing. She was wearing shorts that fit her forty pounds ago, and a shirt that fit her fifty pounds ago with no bra on underneath it. She had worn this to the buffet, letting her stretch mark covered belly hang out for everyone to see. While she was eating a torn seam was spreading up the side of her shirt, and she realized she should probably finish eating at home otherwise she would end up topless in public. And so she sat on her kitchen floor and continued to fill herself to her limit. Her shorts developed a rip in the back, allowing her cellulite-ridden ass to poke through. Her shirt tore off first, tearing up to the sleeve and then falling off to the side. As Beth removed the tattered remains of her shirt she squeezed her large, sagging tits together and squealed in pleasure. Her shorts came off soon after, completely ripping through in the back setting her gargantuan butt free. She reached back and grabbed her huge, soft, cushion of an ass while groaning and stuffing another slice of cheesecake in her mouth, topping it off with whipped cream, and washing it down with soda. Forever lost was the hot soccer star from her college and high school years. Gone was the thin, trim, sexy beauty that every guy wanted. Instead, this obese whale of a woman, this uninhibited glutton, has replaced her. It would be impossible to turn back now, her body was far too ruined. Her metabolism is completely broken, her appetite is out of control, and all self-restraint has gone out the window. She is an obese girl now, hopelessly addicted to binge eating, and getting more obese with every day that goes by. Just simply walking tires her out, so any form of exercise is out of the question. Her non-stop gorging for almost two years has stretched her stomach to impossible limits and ruined any chance of her ever being able to lose weight, not that she wanted to. Beth has other plans. She plans on pushing her appetite even further, fully embracing the gluttonous feedee lifestyle. Nothing would stop her from stuffing herself to new limits and growing even fatter. After she was completely filled with cheesecake, Beth stands up to admire herself. My, oh my, she is becoming quite the obese hog. Her thunder thighs push her legs apart so much that she is starting to develop a waddle when she walks. Even her calves and feet are beginning to look plump, and her ass, oh, her corpulent, juicy ass is something to behold. It juts out like a shelf behind her, swaying and bouncing with every step. Her belly hangs over her pubic mound, and her sides are now home to multiple soft rolls of fat. She lifts and jiggles her belly, letting it drop and slap against her cottage cheese thighs. Every bit of her is covered in stretch marks now, both new and old, and she wears them as badges of honor in testament to her gluttony and hedonism. Her big, bulging DDD tits sag and rest gently on her belly, Beth would have never believed she was meant to have such huge boobs. Her arms are like pillows against her sides, and her face is home to a thick double chin. Every bit of her is swollen, fat, soft, round, obese, and growing. She absolutely adores it. Later that night after a nice nap, Beth gets up, pops a few appetite enhancers, and orders an extra-large stuffed crust meat lover's pizza with extra cheese, with a side dish of pasta and breadsticks. Sitting on her large plush ass and smoking a blunt while rubbing her belly, Beth recalls a time a hundred and fifty pounds ago when she could barely finish a whole medium pizza. Now she was challenging herself with an extra-large one and more! When the pizza arrives, Beth can barely stand it she is so hungry. Tearing the pizza and pasta from the delivery boy's hands and throwing money at him, she slams the door and digs right in. It is amazing how fast Beth can eat now, eating half a slice with every bite, cramming in as much food as she can. Beth farts noisily as she rubs her belly with one hand and feeds her face with the other, but she barely notices. Watching herself eat in a mirror, she observes her jiggling flesh wobble with every movement, this huge blimp of a woman who just loves her pizza, this unrestricted glutton. Every bite serving to make her fatter and fatter, she just feels so warm, hungry, and heavy now. With half a pizza down, Beth turns towards the pasta and breadsticks. Dipping the breadsticks in the pasta cheese sauce, she devours them whole with each bite. The pasta and breadsticks are gone and Beth is starting to feel full. Lying back on the couch with the pizza box within arm’s reach, she feeds herself slice after slice, chewing and savoring every bite as show slowly fills herself up. If only her former dorm mates could see her! What would they think? She had spent almost two years constantly stuffed without a day going by she was not filled to the brim. She even found herself waking up in the middle of the night to microwave a plate of french fries smothered in cheddar cheese and bacon, or to put away a container of frosting. As she approached the final pizza slice she glowed with accomplishment, she had no idea it would be this easy! After eating the last slice, Beth sat covered in pizza grease and sauce rubbing her full, fat belly. Belching loudly, she got up and lumbered over to her blender where she filled a large container full of weight gain shake and polished it off in bed. On the morning of her 24th birthday, Beth sat undressed on the edge of her bed recording her latest video diary. Her belly surged out, laying gently in her lap, while her massive thighs and fat, juicy ass spread out on the bed beneath her. Smoking a blunt in one hand and holding a 40 oz in the other she spoke into her camera about the latest update on her weight gain. “Hello again, Diary. Just starting the day right by getting high and a bit drunk! It’s my birthday again, and I know it’s been awhile since my last update, but look how much fatter I’ve gotten!” Beth stood up and showed off her new girth. Her belly hung lower, resting against her legs, and her huge tits sagged, her nipples pointing down. Her sides were covered in rolls upon rolls, and her fat, round face was grinning from ear to ear. “I’m 296 pounds now, just four pounds away from my original goal! But, ya know, I don’t think I’m nearly fat enough yet. I feel huge, don’t get me wrong, but now that I’m this close to being a three hundred pound fatty it just feels like I need so much more.” Beth chugged her beer, burping rudely. “Oof, sorry Diary, I’m so gassy all the time now, I can’t control it. At first I was totally embarrassed by how often I’ve been farting and burping, especially in public, but it’s also pretty fucking hot. It’s all part of being a fatty, I guess. My appetite is completely out of control! Like, it’s sometimes scary. I crash after almost every binge I have, napping for a few hours, and I wake up hungrier and hungrier each time! I don’t have a regular sleeping pattern anymore, all I do is nap and binge all the time! And just look at what this lifestyle has done to this poor body of mine! My boobs overflow all of my bras now. Remember when these used to be small, firm, perky tits? Now look at them! Look at these fat, sagging udders covered in stretch marks. Look how big my areolas have gotten! I used to have tiny nickel sized areolas, now they’re as round as a baseball! These are some fat titties for sure, I’ve just turned into such a fat, hungry, horny pig! Wanna hear my latest measurements?” Beth bent over to pick up her measuring tape, grunting with exertion, her belly getting in the way, her massive ass pushing up into the air. “I have a 54” chest now, and it feels incredible. These hugely obese, fat knockers make me feels so womanly, so sexy. I have a 40” waist now! My belly and midsection have really blown up since my last measurements, and it’s about time. I love my big, fat, sexy belly soooo much. And my ass, oh Diary, my ass is 59”, that’s almost the whole measuring tape! What I whale I’ve become, mmmm, ohhh, and check out these thunder thighs, they’re 33” around. Oh my, what I fat hog I’ve turned into!” Beth couldn’t help herself, she just started masturbating on camera. Finishing off the rest of her beer and putting out her blunt she brought herself to an explosive climax right in the middle of her video diary. Laying on her back, her body thrashing wildly, her belly wobbling back and forth in the air, she screamed with unbridled pleasure as she came. “Sorry about that, I’m just so horny all of the time now. I masturbate constantly, I can’t seem to stop myself anymore. It’s as though I’ve lost all willpower. All I do is eat, drink, smoke and cum.” Beth cleaned herself up and continued her video. “So, anyway, today’s my birthday. And this fat tub of lard is going to pig out like she’s never pigged out before. I’ve gained 120 pounds since my last birthday, and I’m so close to 300. I plan on eating birthday cake on camera just like last year. I’m also expecting a massive grocery delivery today to stock my fridge with, and I don’t plan on leaving my apartment until I’m well over 300 pounds. I’m just going to lie in bed and feed myself for weeks on end until I get there. Wish me luck!” Stomach growling, Beth finds herself waddling into the same McDonalds she went to on her last birthday, only now a hundred and twenty pounds heavier at 296. Dressed as slutty as ever, her titanic ass hanging out of her shorts, abundant cleavage and massive belly on display for all to gawk at, she places her order. Beth orders four double quarter pounders, four large fries, and four large chocolate shakes. The cashier just stares in silence as he hands over the tray full of food to Beth who takes a seat at a booth and begins shoveling food in her face. The first burger is gone within a few bites along with a bag of fries. The second disappears just as easily. Beth slurps through two of the chocolate shakes to wash them down. The third burger goes more slowly, and with all the french fries gone and nothing but one burger and one shake left, Beth realizes with delight that she can still eat far more! Polishing off the last burger, Beth leaves to go to the Dunkin Donuts drive through. After ordering a dozen donuts, Beth can barely wait to get home to start eating them and so instead starts eating in her car. Smearing her face with frosting, belching between bites, farting into her car seat, Beth can barely pay attention to the road as she stuffs her face uncontrollably. By the time Beth got home there is only four doughnuts left in the box, and she was quite full. Carrying them up to her apartment, she finishes them off and falls asleep while playing with her fat, bloated belly. After her mid-day nap, she got up and waddled over to her bed that was prepared with two large containers of weight gain shake and surrounded with piles of calorie-laden treats. She switched on her camera, smiling without a word, and turned toward her bed. In the center of it were two birthday cakes just like last year, only this time with her goal, 300, written on each one. Beth began to stuff herself, eating beyond what people much heavier than her could ever dream. Her weight gain had not kept up with her appetite, and while she was no doubt substantially overweight, she had the voracious appetite of an immobile blob. On her hands and knees, she plunges into both of the birthday cakes, her belly swaying and slowly filling beneath her. Beth slaps and massages her obese ass and stuffs more piggy cake in her mouth with the other hand. After most of the cake is gone, Beth turns to the weight gain shake. Lying in bed, sucking greedily on her feeding tube, she observes her rotund form in the mirror above her. Her belly rests on her big, flabby thighs, her hips spreading further and further. Her tits, dear lord, her tits are so massive now. She grabs them with both hands, their soft flesh poking out between her fingers. As the last bit of weight gain shake pours down her gullet a groan escapes Beth as she rolls over on her stomach, her enormous ass wobbling in the air, and she struggles to pull her stuffed and bloated body toward the rest of her birthday cake. Her ham-like arms jiggle furiously as they move to cram the delicious, fattening pastry in her face as fast as possible. She cannot stop eating, she will not stop eating. The next day arrives and Beth is still in bed, going between napping, smoking pot, drinking weight gain shakes and liquor while stuffing her fat face with treats. Days turn to weeks, weeks turn to months, and whenever she runs out of food in her kitchen, she simply has more groceries and takeout delivered to her. Four months of twenty-four hour gorging have their desired effect on Beth; she has gained weight faster than ever before. Deciding it might finally be time to get up, Beth rolls out of bed onto a mound of wrappers and containers. Beth had another doctor’s appointment to go to today. She missed her last one because she lost track of what day it was a few weeks ago, and so she had to make it to this one so she could find out her new weight. Again, she purposefully refrained from checking her weight the past few months just so she could surprise herself at the doctor’s. Ponderously lumbering into her bathroom to relieve herself, Beth examines her fatter body in the mirror. Her belly completely covers her pussy now, hanging down halfway onto her thighs. Her tits are now bloated and hanging fat udders that rest to either side of her huge wobbling belly. Turning to admire her backside her jaw drops as she observes the fat, sagging, dimpled shelf of an ass she grew. Every inch of her is just so fat and portly, covered in folds, stretch marks and cellulite. Her thighs touch all the way to her knees now, forcing her to waddle considerably. Her double chin has grown, rounding out her face further, and a third chin is starting to show up. Countless rolls dominate her sides and her flabby arms lay gently against them. Such a big, fat girl, such a hungry piggy with no desire to stop or slow down. Rubbing her voracious stretch mark covered belly a moan escapes her lips as she picks up the phone and orders more groceries. After ordering enough groceries to restock all three of her fridges, she got dressed in a tight, revealing shirt that let her belly hang out, and shorts that proudly displayed her cottage cheese thighs and the crack of her widening ass. Satisfied, she got in her car and drove to the doctor’s. “Three hundred and fifty three pounds!” The doctor announced, astonished. Beth flushed, she couldn’t believe it. Over a hundred pounds fatter than her last visit! She couldn’t wait to get home and share this with her diary. “Beth, you need to start caring about your health, this is insane.” Her doctor insisted. “Go on…” Was all Beth could manage, she was still flustered from the news of her latest weigh-in. “You’re never going to be able to lose weight now. I warned you that you would develop type two diabetes if you didn’t change your lifestyle, and, well, the blood results show that you are now diabetic. I’m going to prescribe you insulin shots, you need to take these daily now to help regulate your blood sugar levels. I’m afraid this means you will never be able to lose weight, your high insulin levels will not permit the burning of body fat. The best you can hope for is to not gain any more weight and try and maintain your blood sugar levels from getting any higher.” “You mean…I’m stuck being a fatty?” Beth asked, feigning naivety. “Well, unfortunately, yes. I warned you a hundred pounds ago this could happen. Also, your blood pressure and cholesterol are through the roof! What have you been eating? You need to stop smoking and drinking. You must realize what you are doing to yourself, your are putting a tremendous strain on your heart and body. Don’t you care about living a long, healthy life?” “Actually, doctor, I don’t care about living a long, healthy life.” Beth found herself saying. Her doctor sat there, shocked. Beth continued. “Let’s be honest here, I’ve tripled my weight the past few years because I love food, and I clearly don’t care about my health. So let’s cut to the chase. I’m not changing my lifestyle. I’m probably going to end up even fatter than I am now. So what can I expect?” Her doctor paused for a moment, tapping her pen against her clipboard. “You can expect to live a short life. But if that’s what you want I can’t stop you. All I ask is that you make regular visits so that we can catch anything life threatening before it gets too serious. Is there no way I can convince you to treat yourself better?” “Doctor, I believe I treat myself just fine.” Beth said, rubbing her massive gut. “Very well. Have a nice day then, Beth.” The doctor said dejectedly, and then left. It was true, Beth realized. She didn’t care if she lived a long life. It was far more important to her to live a short, happy life. “The star that burns twice as bright…” Beth heard herself mumble. Smiling, she left the doctor’s office. After picking up her insulin prescription and giving herself her first insulin shot, Beth pulls into the track and field she used to train at years ago. A wave of determination hit her, and she wanted to see just how well a 350 pound, morbidly obese diabetic could run a full mile. Walking from her car to the starting line already made her out of breath. Composing herself, she hit her stopwatch and began to waddle as fast as she could around the track. She couldn’t run anymore, her thighs were too large and she was just too heavy to move at a pace any faster than a brisk walk. She couldn’t even make it halfway around the track before having a seat at the bleachers. Weezing, heaving, Beth felt something in her hoody pocket. It was a Snickers bar! Munching on it, polishing it off in just a few bites, she felt her tummy rumble. Looking around to make sure she was along, Beth let rip a massive fart against the bleacher. What an out of shape, lazy, disgusting fatso she was now! Feeling rested, she hauled herself back up off the bleachers to continue her way around the track. Sore, aching with heartburn, lightheaded, dripping with sweat and completely out of breath, Beth finished a single lap of the track. She couldn’t go on, she just couldn’t. Her body was far to ruined to even be capable of traveling a full mile by foot. Her timer had gone past fifteen minutes at this point, which means it’d take her over an hour to finish! Who has time for that? Beth collapsed back in her car, guzzled a mountain dew, lit a joint, and as she drove away from the track for the last time she threw her stopwatch out the window. A wave of hunger hit her, a combination of the appetite enhancers she’s been taking, the joint she just smoked, and her high insulin levels. She felt she could eat more than ever before. Pulling up at a McDonalds drive thru, Beth finds herself placing an order of ten double quarter pounders with cheese and ten big macs. The cashier gives her a look, but said nothing as he hands her bags and bags full of greasy, fattening cheeseburgers. She will never eat twenty cheeseburgers, will she? Smoking a blunt on her way home to prepare herself for a fast food feast, she feels overcome by a wave of hunger deeper and stronger than anything she has ever felt. She’s over 350 pounds now, diabetic, and unable to run at all anymore. It’s almost unreal. So big, so fat, so hungry, so horny. Parking her car Beth waddles as fast as she can back to her apartment carrying her bags full of burgers. She must look ridiculous, Beth mused, this big fat whale of a girl, sweaty, carrying so many bags of McDonalds with her. As soon as she entered her apartment Beth threw the bags on her dining room table, grabbed a couple two liters of soda from the fridge, squirmed out of her tight, restricting clothing, took a moment to catch her breath and prepared to fill herself full of fatty cheeseburgers. Beth held the first cheeseburger inches from her mouth, and a small moan swept past it. Her body quivered, glistening with a sheen of sweat, and suddenly she could not take the anticipation any longer. She plunged the burger halfway into her mouth and bit down, feeling her cheeks swell with cheese and beef and lard. She gasped, and her titanic breasts and belly jiggled in turn as waves of pleasure ran through her. As she pushed the second half of the burger into her mouth, she envisioned what twenty cheeseburgers would do to her body. She would grow, layers upon layers of soft, supple fat building up on every part of her, she couldn't even imagine how massive her breasts, ass, and belly would become as she gained pound after pound, and that was all part of the fun. She did not really care all that much where the weight went, though; all she cares about was that she was growing, getting bigger, fatter, more gluttonous with every day. She was going to get so huge. Halfway through her pile of burgers and she was starting to worry herself. Is she really that much of a hog now that she can eat ten cheeseburgers and still not be full? Tilting her head back and chugging a two liter of soda, letting loose a long, loud belch, Beth thought back to when only two cheeseburgers filled her; so much is different now. Horny and moaning while recalling how much her body has changed and how much of an oversized whale she has become, she notices her belly is pressing into the table in front of her. Lifting it up and allowing her bloated gut to rest on top of the table her hunger comes back with full force, as if she has eaten nothing at all. Five more burgers disappear into her eager stomach and now the reality of her situation begins to set in. She is going to end up immobile, she is out of control. Three more burgers are stuffed into her face. Moaning and thrashing she felt her chair creak, and in a flash the legs gave out and she found herself sitting on her floor. Her kitchen chair obliterated by her fat ass, Beth releases monstrous fart against the kitchen floor. Giggling to herself, undaunted by her broken furniture, Beth observes that only two cheeseburgers are left sitting on her plate. Breathing heavily, covered in bits of food, grease and sweat, Beth grabs the last two burgers, one in each hand, and polishes them off. Rubbing and playing with her cheeseburger filled gut, Beth chugs the last of the soda and lets out a final, roaring belch. Reaching beneath her flabby belly to play with herself, she notices how her belly is starting to get in the way of her masturbating. This turned her on so much, the thought of getting too fat to finger herself, of getting too fat to even get out of bed. It all seemed so inevitable now, like this was how it was meant to be. Beth thought of how hot she would feel if she gained a hundred more pounds of blubber, how much delicious food she would get to eat to grow herself past 400, 500, hell, maybe even 600 pounds! After having multiple orgasms at the thought of growing immobile, Beth got up and took a shower in her extra-wide stall, dried off, and plopped down on the edge of her bed. Lazily reaching for the remote for her camera, she hit the record button. “Oof, hi again, Diary. Have I got some news for you!” Beth pulled out another insulin shot and gave it to herself. “See that? That’s an insulin shot. I’m diabetic now! It’s impossible for me to ever lose weight! Cool, huh? Also…” Beth slowly stood up, her hands exploring every inch of herself. “I can’t run anymore. It’s physically impossible! I couldn’t even make it around the track more than once before giving up, so I guess my running days are finally over!” She slapped her belly, sending ripples all throughout her body. “Serves me right, just look how fat I’m getting. You know what I weigh now? I’m 353 pounds of unyielding lard, Diary. Oh, such a fatso. I just couldn’t stop eating, could I?” Moaning, Beth shakes her tits for the camera and then turns and rubs her ass. “I’m just such a naughty fat girl, aren’t I? Such a ridiculously rotund, completely insatiable fat whale of a woman. I even had to buy a new, longer measuring tape, check it out!” Beth pulled out an extra long measuring tape and began sizing herself up. “Okay Diary, you ready for this? My chest is 60”, I mean, just look at these two wobbly, absurdly huge and obese sagging knockers. My waist is 45”, my ass, oh sweet Jesus, my ass is 68” of fat, round booty connecting to my 38” thighs. Oh my God, what a blimp I am! Mmmmm…” Beth trailed off and began to unconsciously masturbate. She lifts her large bosom and belly with her fat arms, letting them drop, watching her belly and breasts bounce and wiggle. Her belly slaps against her massive thighs, obscuring her crotch and sagging towards the floor. It's difficult for Beth to even reach her titanic ass anymore, as the shelf behind you grows uncontrollably with the rest of her fat and bloated body. The thin girl she once was is gone forever, replaced by an obese and bloated glutton, a mountainous woman with no limits to how fat she'll get. All she thinks about is more food, and getting even fatter. Beth realizes her willpower is broken and there's no turning back, there’s only growing bigger, and fatter, and bigger and fatter… Over the next few months Beth only got out of bed to go to the kitchen or go to get fast food somewhere in town. Her fast food stuffing sessions were enormous and much more frequent, and Beth found that her binge of twenty cheeseburgers soon became a routine treat for her. She started every day guzzling beer or liquor and taking appetite enhancers. Every night she finished off two containers full of weight gain shake, stretching her stomach to impossible limits on top of everything else she consumed throughout the day. Her body was dripping with fat, growing faster than ever. Her belly hung further and further toward the floor with every binge. She regularly gave herself insulin shots to maintain her blood sugar level, pushing herself to cram more and more food in her face, stretching her stomach further, and further. There are simply no words to describe how fat her ass got, this beanbag chair of blubber that hung behind her. Rolls upon rolls continued to show up all over her body, her fat face was now home to three chins. Her fatty upper arms dripped over her elbows, and she developed cankles. Walking became a chore, and eventually she just had her refrigerators and pantry moved into her bedroom with her. She bought a reinforced bed to support her morbidly obese growing body, and still did nothing but lay in bed all day, smoke pot, and gorge. Beth’s weight skyrocketed; 360 pounds came and went, then 370, then 380… As she approached 400 pounds, Beth found herself standing in the airport waiting to pick up an old friend and lover, Jill. She was her girlfriend through high school even though they were on opposite ends of the social spectrum. Beth was the hot, popular, sporty chick and Jill was the chubby bookworm who didn’t have many friends. The one thing they did have in common was that they both lesbians, and would stay up late at night kissing, making out, and pleasuring each other in countless ways. Beth was always jealous of Jill’s slightly overweight body, and whenever she watched Jill eat, Beth would be more than a little turned on. Beth couldn’t wait to see how her old high school girlfriend would react to her colossal weight gain. Instead, as Jill came into the terminal, Beth was the one who was blown away. The chubby little bookworm she used to date had shed all her weight and was now a knockout! Still slightly curvy, but in all the right places, Jill was now the hotter, athletic one of the two of them by far. Jill screamed with glee as she ran over and gave Beth a big hug, burying herself deep in her fat. “Oh, Beth, it’s been so long. How’ve you been?” “Oh, you know, been enjoying myself.” “I see that!” Jill says with a sly grin. “Hungry?” Beth asks. “Sure, I could eat, let’s go!” The two girls caught up over dinner at an Italian restaurant. Beth showed no restraint in front of her old lover, eating enough to feed a family of four. Still, Jill didn’t comment on Beth’s weight gain or voracious appetite, they just simply chatted and caught up. That is, until the end of their meal. “Beth, I saw a video online of you pigging out in a gym cafeteria.” “Yeah, you might’ve seen something like that.” “And, let’s not be subtle, you’ve obviously put on much more weight since then.” “A hundred and fifty pounds, give or take.” Jill sat astonished for a moment, and then followed up with, “Why?” “I have a fat fetish. I get turned on by overeating and getting fat.” “Do you plan on stopping?” Jill asked as dessert arrived. Through a mouthful of chocolate mousse, Beth responded, “Never.” Jill sat contemplating this for a moment, watching as her friend filled herself with spoonful after spoonful of chocolate mousse from three different plates full of it. The look on Beth’s face as she took each bite was one of pure bliss, and Jill could clearly see that Beth truly loved her new life. “Then let me help you.” “I don’t want to lose weight.” Beth said sternly. “No, I mean, let me help you gain it.” Beth stopped eating. She was not expecting this. “Really?” “I’ll be blunt, I’ve always suspected you had a thing for weight gain. The way you would watch me eat back when I was heavier and we were in high school, you were more than just jealous. I could tell it turned you on, and I respect your decision to follow through with your fantasy.” Beth sat in attentive silence as Jill continued, “I’m a skilled social worker, I take care of disabled people for a living, and I know you can afford my salary. I might be the only person in the world who understands your need to grow fatter and who’ll take care of you as your movement becomes more and more impaired by your weight gain. I fly home tomorrow, and I need to know if allowing me to help you fulfill your fantasies is something you’d seriously consider.” “Prove it.” Beth said. “How?” Jill asked. “I’m 395 pounds right now, I want you to stuff me so full tonight that I weigh over 400 pounds in the morning. If you can do that, I’ll hire you to take care of me once I’m immobile.” “Deal.” That night, after smoking a huge blunt together, Jill tied Beth to her bed leaving her completely bound and unable to move. Jill said this was to mimic her impending immobility, but Beth suspected Jill was getting off on this. After she was tied up, Jill left the apartment to find Beth something to eat, leaving her immobilized and waiting in eager anticipation for whatever her friend had planned. Almost an hour later, Jill returned with an armload of pizza boxes and bags full of fast food. Setting them on the edge of the bed, Jill walked over and slapped Beth’s belly sending ripples through her entire body. “What a fat, hungry piggy you are. Are you hungry, pig?” Beth nodded guiltily, flushing with excitement. “How hungry are you?” Jill asked grabbing a handful of Beth’s gut. “Starving!” Beth nearly screamed. Leaning forward, rubbing Beth’s gut, Jill whispered, “Are you sure this is what you want?” Beth could only nod, her eyes pleading with Jill to be fed. Without another word, Jill grabbed a burrito from Taco Bell out of one of the bags and held it close to Beth’s face. Beth leaned forward and took a huge bite, and before she could even finish swallowing Jill was already shoving another bite between her lips. Soon the burrito was gone. Next was a slice of pizza from Papa Johns, and then a triple whopper from Burger King. How many stops did Jill make? Did she expect Beth to eat everything? Jill took a break from feeding Beth and instead attached her feeding tube and begins pouring in massive amount of weight gain shake. As Beth swallowed gulp after gulp, Jill kneeled between Beth’s legs and massaged and soothed her slowly inflating stomach. Beth passed gas uncontrollably, embarrassing herself in front of her old lover. Thinking that Jill would be disgusted, she was instead intrigued, and continued to massage and rub Beth’s distended belly. “It’s okay, baby. Don’t be embarrassed, just let loose. I’ll take good care of you.” Jill said lovingly. Beth felt relieved, and simultaneously burped and farted, soothing her bloated gut and making more room to be stuffed. “That’s my girl, just relax and suck on your weight gain shake.” Jill cooed. Jill’s hands moved along Beth’s sides and kneaded the soft rolls she found there, and then continued down, rubbing Beth’s rippling thighs and ass. Jill explored and massaged her former lover’s flabby, ruined body, getting intimate with every fatty bulge she caressed. Jill surprised herself; she was starting to get extremely turned on dominating her old high school sweetheart and watching her inflate with tens of thousands of calories. Grabbing another slice of pizza, Jill removed the feeding tube and stuffed it in Beth’s face before placing the tube right back in her mouth, causing a scrumptious mixture of greasy pizza and weight gain shake to force itself into Beth’s eager stomach. Jill continued to go between exploring Beth’s soon-to-be 400-pound body, stuffing fast food in her, and pouring weight gain shake down her feeding tube. Beth was being pushed to extremes she never thought possible, her stomach stretched to new gluttonous limits. By the end of it she had consumed three extra-large pizzas, five triple whoppers, five burritos and one large container of weight gain shake. Bloated beyond reality, Beth swore she couldn’t swallow another bite, but Jill re-attached her feeding tube and then completely refilled the container with more of her weight gain shake. Beth’s eyes grew wide in protest, but as she felt Jill position herself between her soft thighs, eating out her hot, moist pussy, Beth succumbed to being stuffed further. She closed her eyes and forced herself to start drinking from her feeding tube feeling as if she’s about to explode. She can feel her mountain of a belly filling beyond capacity, weighing down on top of her. Jill continues to give Beth amazing oral, orgasms exploding within her, coaxing her to continue to suck down the fattening fluid into her morbidly obese body. Even as she finishes off every bit of the weight gain shake Jill continues to pleasure Beth into the night. Eventually they lay side by side in bed, Jill gently massaging Beth’s overinflated belly, soothing her as she fell asleep in her arms. V In the morning, Beth awoke alone, untied, and covered in food. She got up and weighed herself to see that she was now 403 pounds of blubber. Jill had pushed her to new limits last night; she never imagined she would ever be able to eat so much in one sitting. Waddling back out into her living room, she saw that Jill had kindly left her six boxes of doughnuts for breakfast. On top of the boxes of breakfast pastries Jill left a note that simply said, “call me when you’re immobile, pig.” Without a bit hesitation, Beth tore into the first box, finishing off a whole doughnut with every bite. Her cheeks were swollen with fried, doughy goodness and icing, she just could not eat fast enough to satisfy her now constantly raging hunger. Four hundred pounds, mmm, what an elephantine tub of lard she is now. Had she ever imagined it would go this far? Sitting on her sofa, her wide load of an ass taking up two couch cushions, her belly filling up her entire lap, she pushed a cream filled doughnut completely in her mouth, buttery cream squirting out all over her face and boobs. Lifting her obese jugs up to her hungry face she licked them clean before letting them drop back down, slapping against her flabby belly. Beth set a goal for herself to eat as much as she did last night, every night, until she was immobile. “Dear Diary, I’m going to get so fat I can’t move.” Beth said into her video camera a few days after her fling with Jill. “I met with an old girlfriend of mine, and not only is she into my weight gain, she’s going to take care of me once I’m immobile! I’m sure this “chance meeting” and hookup isn’t unrelated to the fact that I’m a millionaire, but who cares? As long as I have someone to take care of me once I’m confined to my bed, especially someone who is as turned on by my fat ass as I am, well, I can’t complain. Speaking of which, I don’t know if I’ve told you Diary, but...” Beth bit her lower lip and squirmed, it turned her on so much to think about this. “I’m going to end up immobile whether I like it or not. My appetite is so ruined, it’s pretty intense. I’ve completely destroyed my willpower, I have to eat constantly! Speaking of which…” She reached behind her bed and pulled out a tin full of apple pie. “This is just a small snack. This isn’t even for the camera, I…I just need to eat. All the time.” With that Beth just started shoving handfuls of apple pie in her face, licking her sticky, sweet fingers. Finishing most of it, she gives herself an insulin shot and pulls out her measuring tape. “Honestly, I’m a little scared of where I’m headed. It’s inevitable now, and thrilling to think about. I’m 406 pounds now. My BMI is over 67. It’s crazy, absolutely nuts, but it makes me so happy, so content. I’m living my life the way I want to live it, no regrets!” Beth smiles to herself, still holding her measuring tape, reflecting on her journey so far. “Okay, enough sentiment, down to business. Let’s see, wow, my boobs are 65”, looks like they’ve slowed down a bit. My waist, though. Diary, my waist and belly have just been taking on so much weight lately. My waist is 51”, my belly so big and sexy…” Beth takes a moment to hug her belly, lifting it up with her boobs and cradling it with her soft arms. “Let’s see now, my ass is now 76”, heehee, and my thighs are 42”, ha, wow. And you know what, Diary?” Leaning in close to her camera, breasts and belly hanging toward the floor, Beth whispers, “I’m going to pack on hundreds of more pounds before I’m done.” With a wink she turns her camera off and waddles into her kitchen in search of more treats. By her 25th birthday, Beth weighed 483 pounds. She rarely left her apartment anymore; she was so big now she needed a support bar to pull herself out of bed in the morning. Getting out of bed was a chore for her, leaving her out of breath and heaving. Beth remembered just a few years ago she could run up and down a soccer field while barely breaking a sweat, and now just walking from her bed to her kitchen got her winded! This thought made her smile as she reached down and gave her belly a slap, her whole body violently shaking in response. Her belly hung past mid-thigh now, almost to her knees, and constantly begged to be filled with food. Beth got dressed in the tightest, most revealing clothes that would fit her and huffed her way out her front door to a nearby buffet. At the buffet, Beth was just starting to get a grasp on how out of shape she really was. Getting up to refill her plate left her sweating and panting, and so she decided to pile her table full of as many plates as she could. Onlookers stared in disbelief as Beth emptied entire trays of mashed potatoes, meatloaf, macaroni and cheese, fried steak, as well as plenty of other fatty foods, and brought them all back to her table. Seated with ten plates overflowing with buffet food in front of her, clasping her hands together and beaming with delight at the meal she was about to consume, she started to dig in and make a pig of herself in public. She had given up on all forms of manners, and made a complete mess shoveling food in her face. Belching and passing gas uncontrollably, eating as fast as she could, plate after plate disappeared, and soon with barely any effort at all she had devoured all ten plates full of food. Now it was time for desert. Ten more plates full of ice cream, pies, cakes, and cookies covered her table, and she began shoveling it all inside her. Beth’s face and shirt were a mess; she was being such a slob. The booth she was in was too small and her belly pressed up against the table and flowed over top of it. Food crumbs fell into her massive cleavage and she shamelessly picked them out and ate them. As Beth was finishing her last two plates of deserts she heard a rip. Looking down she saw that she had torn her booty shorts to shreds, and she was wearing nothing underneath. Standing up in a panic, her full belly surged forth and knocked over all her empty plates, sending them crashing onto the buffet floor. Anyone who wasn’t paying attention to her was looking now, and everyone was just in time to see her braless, massive, G cup knockers tear through the tube top she was wearing and hang free for the world to see. Beth was now standing completely naked in public. Completely humiliated, but also extremely horny from the whole experience, Beth grabbed the last two plates of desert and started to slowly lumber her fat, swaying ass out of the buffet as fast as she could. Nobody stopped her, nobody said a word, everyone was too stunned. As she was leaving, she overheard someone say, “What a disgusting, fat pig.” She turned to look and see who could have said that and saw one of her former soccer teammates sitting at a table near where she was. She could not believe it! What were the odds? So, instead of leaving, panting heavily from the exertion of both being extremely turned on and from having to get up from her table, Beth turned to her former teammate and said, “Hi Susie, it’s me, Beth.” Susie’s eyes went wide, her skin went pale. “Beth? I heard you put on some weight, but…oh my god... Is that really you?” Beth nodded, multiple chins wiggling, grinning from ear to ear. “Oh my, holy shit, oh my God, what have you been eating? How’d you get so fat? You were the most beautiful girl on the team, how could you let this happen to you?” “I was just soooo hungry.” Beth said with a wink as she leaned her head back and poured both plates full of desert she was carrying into her bottomless pit of a stomach. Apple pie and ice cream covered her naked body and before Susie could say another word, Beth had waddled out the door. Back home, Beth came repeatedly recalling her encounter at the buffet, she has never been so humiliated, so turned on in her entire life. How could she behave like that, displaying her naked fat body in public so shamelessly! So fat, she’s gotten so unbelievably, insanely obese. After she finishes pleasuring herself, she falls into a deep sleep, anticipating her birthday feast that night. For her 25th birthday feast Beth planned to continue the tradition of recording herself devouring her custom made cakes with the icing pig on top. This time she had eleven large cakes prepared and delivered to her apartment, each one with 600 printed on the top, her goal for next year. She had even more refrigerators and pantry cupboards installed around her bed, and even had a large sized handicap toilet and hot tub installed in her bathroom, as well as an industrial sized scale. She was going for immobility and needed to have everything she needed near her bed. With all of her preparations in order, Beth approached the pile of cakes sitting on a table. Turning on her camera, Beth had only a few words to say. “I’m almost 500 pounds. It’s my 25th birthday, and by next year I want to weigh over 600 pounds. I’m too tired and hungry to measure myself right now, so fuck it. I’m just going to dig in. To immobility!” With that, Beth began to bring handful after handful of the sinfully sweet birthday cake to her lips. Eventually she sits on the bed, full, but not quite stuffed, and continues to plow through the cakes one by one. When she got thirsty she would lean back in bed and place her feeding tube in her mouth suck down her scrumptious weight gain shake before using her support bar to struggle to sit up and stuff herself with more and more cake. This cycle repeated itself for hours, until finally all the cakes were gone and a bloated, belching, farting, snoring, big fat blob of a woman lay sleeping, naked, covered in cake crumbs and icing, her camera still recording her in all her lazy, gluttonous glory. She continued to feast like this for days, weeks, months. Every day it got harder and harder for her to get out of bed and greet the grocery deliver man at her door, or to cook something in the microwave, or mix more weight gain shake. She never knew it would go this far, that she would balloon this much. She could not be happier; she was finally the lustful, gluttonous goddess that she always dreamed of being. Her days consisted of nothing but food, weed, alcohol, and playing with her massively obese and fattening body. Soon she was well over 500 pounds, and did she slow down? No, there was no stopping now, the idea was laughable. There was only forward, gaining indefinitely, every calorie she consumed and pound she gained drove her further and further into a state of gluttonous bliss. Six months later, Beth records the final entry in her video log. “Huff, hey Diary, mfff, what’s up?” Beth says as she crams one oatmeal crème pie after another in her mouth. “This, mfff, will probably be, hooof, my last diary entry. I’m over 580 pounds now, bigger than my scale can weigh. Mmmm, hold on, need another cookie or two. Mmmff, yeshhh, sooo good, just one more. Mmmm, so delicious. Okay, well, I’m having trouble walking at this point, and soon I may be too big to even get myself out of bed. So I want to make this last entry before it’s too late. This is going to take some effort, but let’s try and take some final measurements, shall we?” Beth grabs a mechanical hand on a stick she now uses to pick things up with and, grunting, reaches for her measuring tape. “Let’s give this a try. Okay, my big, fat knockers are, holy cow, 88” around. Holy fuck. My waist is, Jesus, 65” around.” Breathing heavily, Beth was getting winded just from trying to measure herself. “And my ass, ugh, ooohh, my ass is 96” and my thighs are 52”. I’m…I’m so fucking huge.” Her eyes lit up with excitement as she plopped back down on her bed. Beth was extremely proud of her massive weight gain. “Well, I guess this is goodbye, Diary. Soon I’m going to be too fat to record myself anymore. It’s been fun, but now it’s time to cross the line into immobility.” Beth paused, trying to think of a better way to end her video logs. “It’s been more than just fun. It’s…it’s the most amazing experience I’ve ever had. Fuck it, I’m gonna stuff myself one more time on camera. Ready, Diary?” Beth set out an array of pastries, cookies, and cakes on multiple trays in front of her bed. She also placed an order for five large deep-dish pizzas. After popping some appetite enhancers and giving herself an insulin shot, she was ready. “Here I go!” Plowing through her pastries and cookies, consuming everything in sight, Beth moaned, twisting and writhing in absolute bliss. In between mouthfuls of sweet, sugary cakes and pies her hands explored every bit of her body she could still reach. Her belly extended past her knees, her fat ass pushed her up off the edge her bed until she was almost standing. She repeatedly belched loudly, farting without shame, putting on quite the show for her final video log. Still, she continued to pig out. The pizzas arrived, and, slipping on her moo-moo, Beth answered the door and returned as fast as her waddling, morbidly obese ass would carry her. Without hesitation she began shoving slice after slice of pizza down her throat, guzzling from a liter of soda every so often. Incredibly, pizza after pizza disappeared into Beth, and she caught all of her massive feast on film. Finishing the last slice, her belly bigger and fuller than she could ever remember, Beth waved goodbye to her camera, hitting the stop button on her remote. Months later on her 26th birthday, leaning back in bed, cramming pot brownies into her mouth, Beth is now 643 pounds of soft, luscious fat. Her once slim, toned thighs are now so absurdly huge and flabby that she has no choice but to keep her legs spread constantly. Even when she sits down her belly forces her legs apart and spills onto the bed in front of her. Her ass, which used to be tight and firm, is now two dimpled, colossal, wobbling globes that bulge out behind her and jiggle uncontrollably. Where she once had petite, perky little tits she now sports two mammoth, fat and sagging udders that rest comfortably on the bed to either side of her mountainous belly, areolas the size of small plates. Her belly is so humungous now, littered with stretch marks, rolls, and folds, it hangs all the way past her knees when she is standing. Each arm is thicker than her waist was all those years ago when she started gaining. Endless rolls of fat conquer her body, fat spilling out everywhere, she could not believe how absolutely huge she has gotten. Her once thin and pixie-like face is now fat and round with three full chins and covered in chocolate. Turning her attention to her weight gain shake, Beth lustfully sucks down the whole container not even aware that she had just crossed the line into immobility. Trying to get up to refill it last time had been such a chore, rocking back and forth to gain momentum to get out of bed, dragging her behemoth body to the kitchen, belching and farting uncontrollably the whole way. The ordeal had left her oh so hungry and tired that she didn’t even make it back to bed before she drank the entire container of fattening fluid, and so she had to make even more just so she had some to satisfy herself with later. This time, however, as Beth tried to get out of bed to restock on food and refill her weight gain shake container, she realized in a mix of horror and ecstasy that she just did not have the strength to hoist herself up. She was pinned down by hundreds of pounds of fat. Beth had finally done it, she was immobile. The reflection in the mirror above her showed an unrecognizable blob of a woman. Just look at what she has done to herself, how could she have been such an out of control fat hog? She used to be so skinny and in shape. She used to take such good care of herself, eating healthy, exercising regularly, and attending soccer practice. Now look at her, look at what surrendering to her weight gain fetish has done. Did she stop when she gained well over a hundred pounds? No, instead she gained weight even faster. Did she stop when her appetite grew to the point where she was always hungry? No, instead she kept herself constantly stuffed, pushing her appetite even further. Did she stop when she doubled, tripled, quadrupled her initial weight? When she started having trouble walking? When the slightest bit of exertion made her out of breath? Absolutely not, and she loved every delicious moment of her gluttonous journey. In four years Beth had purposefully and deliberately transformed herself from a hot, young, slim athlete into an immobile, bed-ridden, constantly gorging pile of lard. Getting horny thinking of how far she’s come, all the food she had to eat to get this monstrously huge, Beth instinctively reached for her hot, wet pussy to pleasure herself and remembered that it had been over a month since she could reach around the mound of pure fat that was her belly. Smiling, she pulls out her phone, calls Jill and excitedly tells her the good news. She’s immobile, and she needs Jill to come take care of her, in more ways than one. Beth wanted to eat, she needed to eat, and that is exactly what she did. Now, after well over a five hundred pound gain she was free, and nowhere near stopping.

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