i like to imagine that his pinky ring used to fit his ring or index finger but then he had just one too many frozen pizzas (is there such a thing?) and now it's stuck on his fat little pinky.
I still have asks up the wazoo from my 900 Friendo Celebration, so until The Bistro's 1st birthday [just wait for what I have planned!] there's no special 1K Friendo ask box activities, but the THOT TANK is open, babes!
Thank-you-for-being-a-friendo,
Beefro👌🥩💜
[Sentimental gobble-dee-goop under the cut]
10 months ago, I started this blog, assuming no one would give two onions about fat/chubby/rollie-pollie p-boys & the ravings of a lunatic who had things to say about them. I have never been so happy to be so wrong.
From the brand new lurkers who drop a like here & there to the moots who have liked, commented and reblogged since the start - & every single one of you in between - you all make this place what it is. I'm just the lucky beef who gets to watch it unfold.
I have made connections through this blog with moots I can proudly call my people. From the late night laughing fits over hats that say Ahoy!, the gif spamming, the watch parties, the asks that make even me clutch my pearls, the continual bastardization of SpongeBob memes, Din looking suspiciously like Bill Murray, the dm's just to say hi, meeting new friendos, swapping p-boy pics and everything else I have had the luxury of experiencing with you amazing folks...
everyone better be ready. gird your loins. as soon as this movie hits theatres, this will be my entire personality. he won’t replace frankie but godammit he will be RIGHT THE FUCK UP THERE.
i want to count the zipper teeth on his fly with my tongue while he glares at me menacingly. yes you’re beef has problems.
As you've probably noticed, I've been pretty MIA as of late - your beef is doing better, but healing takes time. My IRL job (I know, how dare beefin' on this site not be my real job) has consumed a lot of the brainpower I would normally use to write and hang out here. Norbert my depression goblin, bless him, has been better behaved than normal, but he's still shifty as all get out and needs constant monitoring.
I have a few fics coming down the pipeline and I am excited to get them out to you, including but not limited to [redacted], [redacted], and [redacted]. Oh! and Chubby![redacted] will officially be joining the Bistro very soon as the news P-boy. 🥵🫠🥡
In other news, the THOT TANK is looking a bit sparce...
you know what? this man deserves to just let loose and let his fat flag fly.
COME ON PEEPAW! COME SEE ME. I MAKE A MEAN OATMEAL RAISIN COOKIE AND A WICKED ASS RACK OF RIBS. EAT YOUR FILL OF CHICKEN WINGS, BABY! NOBODY IS GONNA STOP YOU IN BEEFRO'S HOUSE!
I was planning on getting out something to celebrate Frankie Friday this week (promp courtesy of @noxturnalpascal - thank you!) but your beef is sick again and despite me getting 2,300+ words down, it makes very little sense.
So I made a banner instead of finishing the fic.
Happy Frankie Friday!
This is Noxy’s promp:
So maybe we’ll have a delayed observance to my fav P-boy’s day of the week?
IK I JUST TAGGED U IN THIS BUT IT NEEDS TO COME TO UR ATTENTION IMMEDIATELY! LOOK AT THE FUCKING TUMMY!!! WHAT ARE YOUR BEEFRO THOTS???
good fucking god, Wifey...
EX-FUCKIN-SCUSE ME MR THE PHOTOGRAPHER YOU HAVE THIS PIC IN A HIGHER RESOLUTION AND I AM NOT PRIVY TO IT?
SOMEONE FETCH ME MY SMELLING SALTS AND A RUN ME A HOT BATH. I HAVE TO FLING MYSELF INTO THE SEWERS AND PIPE UP THE BAND. HOW MANY HARMONICAS AND KAZOOS CAN WE MUSTER UP? IT'S TIME FOR A DUMPSTER FIRE SEWER PARADE.
I'm hopping around the Ask boxes with some pancake asks.
Which Pedro boy is getting dome beefy pancakes? You can interpret and answer that in any way you like.
Love, El
oh El! Who could it be? It took me a minute to figure out what a ‘beefy dome’ pancake was, but after some googling, I know exactly who’s gonna benefit from this.
Thanks for the ask, baby!
Make-your-own-kind-of-music regards,
Beefro👌🥩💜
It’s Javi G!
Javi sat back and groaned, letting his head tilt against the chair’s headrest.
“More pancakes, Mr. Gutierrez?”, you offer, trying to keep your eyes at a professional level and not at the ball gut sitting on his lap.
He waves his has slightly at you, and offered a lopsided smile. “No, thank you, Pollita.”, he said softly. “You already have my shirt ready to tear.”
That poor red, button up shirt. It’s been through a lot, and since you were hired as his personal assistant, the seams and buttons look to be on their last legs.
“The shirt looks fine to me, sir. Have another… come on. You deserve it.”, you cooed, keeping firm eye contact with him.
His pupils got a little bigger and his smile grew. He let out a small, almost inaudible whine as he shifted in his seat.
You hear the first button pop off then hit the floor as he sat forward to eat the next pancake.