#but i'm not going to be up the ass of a fat actor about it i'm not sorry lol

[killbaned]

my hot take of the night is that considering he’s already fat to begin w and how many years he’s been the brunt of absolutely vile comments and fatphobia about how he’s ‘not hot’ anymore br*ndan fr*iser can wear as many fat suits as he wants

#also like i'm not sorry but we have bigger issues when it comes to fat acceptance than #'a fat guy was made more fat for a movie while also being very insistent about not turning it into a joke' #like. yeah skinny people in fat suits for the whole joke of 'fat people bad/funny' is Bad #but i'm not going to be up the ass of a fat actor about it i'm not sorry lol #y'all should like go outside and consider actual fucking issues jesus christ #i fucking hate awards season y'all find the most insane things to make issues of

[kineticpenguin]

So I finished the Fallout series

And that was a mistake.

You know how like, 2 episodes in I said "the only character anyone involved in this show seems to actually give a shit about is the Walton Goggins ghoul"? Yeah, that stays consistent for the whole duration. You know how people use "NPC" as an insult? Lucy is worse: she's a BethSoft Fallout PC. She just steps on out of that vault with generic do-gooder personality, and basically everything brought to that character is entirely from the person playing her, certainly not the goddamn writers. Let me be absolutely clear: this is not Ella Purnell's fault, she is acting her ass off. It's just the writers gave her such trash to work with and the only button they have on their keyboard is "well that just happened!"

It's almost as bad for Maximus the Hapless Brotherhood Dipshit (Aaron Moten) but not quite. The writers thought maybe they'd do a fakeout to make you question whether or not he's a good guy or not, and absolutely did not commit. Another character where the actor had to do their best with nothing.

So obviously Lucy and Maximus fall in love and... here's the thing. She's smitten from the moment he first shows up in power armor, calls him a "knight," even though she's supposedly up to speed on prewar history and knows T-60 armor when she sees it. Why she just got obsessed with this idea that this guy is a Knight and not a remnant of the US Army remains to be seen, but I'm pretty sure it's because Todd Howard hears "knight in shining armor" and gets a big fat chub and dreams of being carried off into the sunset.

I can't even say Walton Goggins steals the show as the ghoul Cooper Howard, because most of this show is actually really all about him. He is the actual protagonist.

Overall assessment, though? God, where is the copypasta about Fallout 3... ah, yes. It makes about that much sense. They retconned the NCR into a fragment and then finished it off out of what I can only assume is 14 years of pure spite from Todd Howard. Why? Because they want you to know that it seems that Vault-Tec is bad. Uh, very bad.

Vault-Tec's bad, huh?

HEY FRANK THIS GUY'S OVER HERE WATCHIN' AN AMAZON SHOW OVER HERE THAT SAYS THAT VAULT-TEC... IS BAD!

It's a show with nothing for everyone. It holds its cards close to the chest so non-fans won't understand what's going on, and shits all over existing canon which fans won't like.

And also it just sucks. The plot doesn't make any sense and the fight choreography occasionally achieves "acceptable" at best. Battlefields populate and depopulate and repopulate without explanation. There is no flow to the combat. There is a moment in the finale where banner-bearers with the BoS flag and the NCR flag just rush at each other. BECAUSE TROOPS ATTACKING BY HELICOPTER AND PEOPLE DEFENDING THEMSELVES FROM THEM, BOTH SIDES USING MACHINE GUNS, ARE SO WORRIED ABOUT BATTLE STANDARDS LIKE IT'S 1844

Fuck this show.

#fallout #amazon fallout

[garfunklefield]

Magic Dance!

18+ viewer discretion is advised

WWE!Fem!Reader/WWE!Yuki Tsukumo Warnings: locker room sex, tribbing/scissoring, humiliation kink, dirty talk, degradation, wet and messy, squirting, stone top!Yuki, pillow princess!reader Word count: 1297 DESC: Your on-stage rivalry is hot and heavy behind the scenes!

This is inspired by me watching too many Rhea Ripley edits..

I'm getting to every ask slowly!

The world knew you both hated each other. It was apparent from the planned tweets from your manager, calling Mama Yuki weak and flat-chested. Or how she’d yell on stage how she was going to rip into your flesh, throwing you around with care for your safety. You were both trained, so it didn’t hurt. But the allusion is what mattered. You were both actors, playing up your hatred for the stage. Millions were paying hundreds to see you throw her against the stage and slam your hips into her body, holding her down for three seconds. You both were so good at wrestling that your managers would tell you which matches to throw to make the other look good. You didn’t mind, though.

But, you both had a dirty little secret. Sneaking smiles and waves from the backstage. Blowing kisses and winking. Palming her flesh intimately to make her mind fog in front of thousands. Yuki grabbed your ass before throwing you into the ground, in a way you’d think about for days. 

Today wasn’t different, but the air was hotter. You were both in the locker room downstairs, with the stadium above. Getting ready, applying your intense makeup, and adjusting your scandalously skimpy outfits. Her hair was long and bleached blonde, slicked back into a low ponytail. Her theme was always dark and gothic, with black lipstick and intense eye makeup. Her outfits included straps and chains, cock rings, anything inherently sexual and fetish-like. Today she wore a dog collar around her neck, with a large circle dangling from the center. Her top dipped down to reveal her perky breasts, then shorts that left nothing to the imagination. 

You leaned into the girly aspect, to downplay your muscles and strength. Two space buns reinforced with hairspray and pink extensions. You wore unitard-like shorts that exposed your fat ass and thighs, with a shorter pale pink skirt. Large boots and a purple cropped t-shirt that came just above your breasts, nipples covered with pink heart pasties. Glitter all over your face and lips, pink lashes mixed into your lash extensions. Everyone called you Pinkie, rarely ever using your first name with it.

Two opposites, that’s what they loved about you both. No matter how submissive you looked or how dominant Yuki looked, you both had an equal fighting stance. Everyone loved how you’d both beat each other's asses in a sexually suggestive way, spitting insults at each other in between throws. No one knew who’d win, each fight being a competitive mystery. 

Yuki was seated on a bench, with a compact in her manicured hand. She was applying black liquid lipstick with an applicator, accentuating the corners of her mouth. Your lips were glittery and pink, glossy in the stage lights. She closed the compact and looked at you, as you adjusted your T-shirt.“Hey,” she cooed, scooting over to you on the bench. You glanced back at her and smiled, raising an eyebrow as she continued, “I like your outfit today.” 

“I like yours too. Especially that,” your hand trailed to her neck, tugging on the ring in the center, “I’m gonna have fun with it today.” Your voice could send anyone into a trace. Smooth and sultry, it almost distracted your girlfriend each time she fought you on the stage. Mainly when you’d growl those pathetic little insults her way. She had so many desires and thoughts running through her head and seeing you this way was getting her so hot and bothered. Yuki put her hand over yours and pulled you closer, closing the distance with your lips. Your pink lips molded against her black ones, sucking her bottom lip and licking along the center. She moaned softly, in that perfect way that was telling you this wouldn’t be just a simple make-out session. 

“No one’s here, baby,” she purred in between messy kisses, not caring if your makeup smudged. You still had an hour to fix it, right? You could get a little messy for your love. She wrapped two arms around your waist, before moving them to touch along the sides of your unitard bottoms. Your breath hitched in your throat as her lips pulled away and her eyes flitted to your pretty little clothed cunt. Two fingers hooked the crotch part of your clothing and pulled it to the side. Of course, you didn’t wear any underwear. “What a little slut,” she mumbled. You were already wet, it was obvious when her other hand spread apart your folds and your slick stuck to her fingertips. 

A whine escaped your lips, before you pressed them together, “Yuki… honey,” you tilted your head back, “Put your pussy on mine.. Please?”

She laughed, breathlessly, “You want me to fuck you with my pussy? You want your little cunt fucked so good?” Yuki stood and stripped from her shorts, no underwear either. You couldn’t suppress the noise that fell from your plump lips the moment you saw her climb on top of your spread legs, facing her back to you. She mushed her cunt into yours and rolled her hips side to side, “Yea-a-ah, dirty girl, dirty fucking girl. You like that, you slut?” She looked back with a sultry grin, eyes half-lidded. She knew how to turn you on in seconds, “You’re so greedy. You wanted to fuck me so bad, admit it.” 

You breathed out shakily, with an embarrassed blush creeping on your cheeks, “M-m.. maybe,” you gasped when she pressed her vulva onto yours, rocking her hips back and forth teasingly, “Yes,” you whimpered, “Yeah, I do baby. So bad.” A pout pulled at your lips as she rocked back and forth then ground side to side. Just to tease you with her squishy, warm pussy. You wanted to cum then and there, your back arching into every wave of pleasure she pushed your way. She was getting harder, more intense, and it made your cute little noises louder.

“Yeah, you like that, whore? Whine for me, yeah, you wanna cum? Beg for it. Mm- shit, beg for it,” Yuki’s voice filled you like honey as she fucked into your slit with her engorged clit, making you feel so much pleasure with just a few thrusts. She rut into you like she was in heat, humping harder than she had the last few times you’d had sex. You could hear your honeypot squelch at every thrust, to the point where you couldn’t hear anything else. You were begging, sure, but you were unaware of what you were saying exactly. It just felt so good. 

Warm waves of hedonistic pleasure coursed through your lower half until you couldn’t help it. This warmth was familiar as it took over and made you release all over her, squirting like a good little slut onto her pussy. She kept grinding, and you knew it wasn’t for her pleasure. Yuki had told you how tribbing didn’t feel like much for her, but she loved it because you got off. She loved to please you more than she liked to get off. You enjoyed it, liking to see her happy from making you squirt every single time. You gasped and moaned as you continued to cum, sticky and wet juices coming out of your tight hole right into her pussy. She grinned back at you, watching your faces as she continued. Your lipgloss was smudged and your head was dazed, so you didn’t realize when she got off of you, leaving your legs spread. You didn’t even realize you had squirted on most of your shorts, and a little bit of your skirt too. 

Yuki pressed a kiss to your forehead, leaving a small black mark, and smirked into your ear, “I’m gonna win this match, slut.” 

#yuki jjk #yuki tsukumo #yuki tsukumo x reader #x reader smut #x reader #jjk x reader #wlw x reader #jjk smut #smut #wlw smut #wwe #garfunklefield writing

[sharonisthebettercarter]

we need to talk about common comic opinion for the boys

so i read the comics.

was curious for a while, buddies wanted to do it, finally bit the bullet and MAN OH MAN~<3

there's common opinion that swirls around from people who *have not read the comics* need i remind, an opinion that they are merely *meaningless edgelord drivel* or the like.

i'm here to bust that misconception, smack it upside the head and drag it around the fuckin' town and kick it till it's caved in because it couldn't be more *wrong* if it tried.

first thing i'll say is that the comics *don't* compare in what you'd call 'gratuitous edginess' to the show. while they have their 'bit on the nose moments', they're drawings that go panel by panel. even what they *could* show wouldn't compare, and it honestly doesn't. (coming from someone who's also watched the show too many times over now and got a nice fresh read in)

robin's death is more brutal *in the show*. there is more blood and gore. *in the show*. the arguably edgiest thing between both of them is a guy exploding another guy from inside his urethra, which *only happens in the show*

and for those that have no clue about the big twist or comics homie and try to make blocks of analysis for a character they have zero actual information or decent research on.

homelander is worse. *in the SHOW*.

granted, both have similar enough structure with reversed character development/reveal, but i digress

butcher is just THE biggest fucking bottom by the way, lord satan i CAN NOT with that boi--

anywho~<3

the 'meaningless' part? well that's just a big fat lie and i'll say it up front. that shit needs to stop. this thing was definitely an emotional rollercoaster, and while it may be true that it's not for everyone, it was far from meaningless and actually brilliantly written and even researched.

it's raw, it feels real half the time, it teaches valuable lessons, and even when you're in the notion of 'okay, where is this going, it's sus', when you stick with it? you get rewarded fucking beautifully.

there are moments you'd disagree with the characters actions in a way that makes them feel humanly flawed. of course they might do the wrong thing or say the wrong thing, so do real life humans?? there are cross cultural miscommunication references and conversations that show ennis knew what he was doing and why he did it a certain way. and yeah, it can be too much to handle for some,

*but if you honestly feel that way you shouldn't be watching the show either*

and here's what it's not.

meaningless, ill-thought, pointless, edgelord drivel.

it *is* an intricate and well done, brutally *honest* creative critique of the *military industrial complex*, *corporate capitalism*, and a couple other things expertly squeezed in. even touching on *abuse* and hitting all the right spots for how it can psychologically fuck with people. the ending punches you in the fucking feels as you could appropriately expect it to with a hard side of begrudged satisfaction.

good fucking satan these things were an excellent read that compelled me to want moar from start to finish, and yeah, if you have watched the show then i *highly* recommend them because the important topics and themes touched on are presented much better in the comic, even with the sometimes wonky ass art in place of hawt actors to distract you, lmao

but seriously? the lot of you that keep spouting nonsense from your clenched up assholes without actually bothering to look at the source material need to stop. all you're doin' is actin' damn fools and showing off high and mighty opinions based on complete mis-education if not un-education.

and f.y.i.... also being the damn fools both the comics AND show make fun of.

so remember that line billy says?

'but the main reason you don't hear about it is cause the public don't want to know about it.'

that's y'all. legit, at this point. more specifically, y'all would be the 'public' that wants to live with rose tinted glasses instead of acknowledging that reality is more brutal than we often want to see or admit.

why else would you keep denouncing and dismissing the comics and source material of something you allegedly love?

because some other schmuck on the internet said a lie, gave you hearsay, or a rumor they heard through a grapevine on a game of telephone that said it wasn't worth looking into yourself?

well i'll call bullshit on that straight up but what are y'all so afraid of??

couple other things i will say, if you hate butcher for being the biggest worldclass cunt, you will absolutely feel vindicated and have your feelings or possibly lovehate boner (like mine~) completely validated with what happens in these comics (and if i'm being honest about the direction of the show, weeeeelllll...~<3 lemme not tho lmao<3 still def the biggest bottom, out bottoms hughie by far, i wanna see him get railed by vas/love sausage)

i will also say, billy is 100% wrong in the comic and the show is slowly but surely unraveling that truth there as well, if it's not clear enough by now. what he does isn't for becky/becca, and definitely not for ryan either. it never was.

it's for his father, no i will not elaborate cause read the damn comics. (but also, people need to stop fucking forgetting that HUGHIE is the *actual* good guy here, not billy... billy is a bad guy... billy is objectively worse than homelander in many MANY canon ways and remember that reverse character development i mentioned--.)

contrast, if you *love* butcher, you will likely be disappointed in the show, but the comics will help prepare you for it (they also make too many things CLEAR)

unfortunately, you do not get sweetheart noir in this and while i love his show counterpart, bearing with cunt 9000 noir is worth it. (it also sparked fic ideas for me cause why not both~<3)

LOVE SAUSAGE IS UNREAL AND PERFECT~<3<3<3 if nothing else, comics love sausage at least deserves your full attention.

homelander's as always is a fun boi, show homelander by comparison is basically *final stage* comics homie (full throttle evil berserk type shit/just before it hits) take everything you thought you knew about (comics) him, and throw it out the fuckin' window.

boi does some fucked up shit... and ALSO has fucking mental breakdowns and visceral reactions like throwing up to doing evil shit because he literally can't stomach it and is trying to convince himself that he is the bad guy because he's been gaslit--.

and i'ma stop there. read the fuckin' comic if you actually wanna know just how deep that homie rabbit hole goes.

and i will absolutely use the idea of him having legit *adverse reactions to doing evil shit* in a fic because FUCK. YES. that was a sad but lovely detail and would make for a perfect fuckin'a alibi<3

anywho~<3, if you recognize he's a victim in the show? the comics. read them cause OOOOOHHHH--.

#the boys #the boys amazon #the boys tv #the boys comics #homelander #billy butcher #hughie campbell #annie january #starlight #marvin milk #frenchie #kimiko #put up or shut up #fandom fuckery #media literacy #no regerts #worth it #black noir #love sausage #bratty bossy bottom billy butcher #the 5 essential b's

[crescencestudio]

Devlog #32 | 06.27.23

Hi everyone!

I'm here! With an Update! This is an exciting one because I am Finally releasing a Full! Game! <3 I will obviously still be talking about Alaris, but I am vibrating with excitement because I can't wait to release intertwine to you all! THE RELEASE DATE APPROACHES

Writing

Because we entered crunch mode for intertwine, this month was mostly focused on continuing to fill out Druk's route and my dissertation.

I didn't make as much progress on Druk's route as I would've liked (I was hoping to FINISH it, but Otojam crunch wrecked my ass). But I do have most of the route finished! At this point, I only have the final chapter to go, so we are Very Close! Druk's route is shaping up to be a really fun one. I like to sprinkle humor into all the routes, but because of Druk's character, there are a lot of funny (at least to me) cast interactions. I hope people enjoy it as much as I do because I have a big fat crush on him now!

Regarding editing, we are just about rounding out the last of Fenir's developmental edits (courtesy of local superhero dev Wudgeous of Herotome) and Kayn's line edits (courtesy of local royalty IF writer Vi of Next in Line). With Fenir's script coming up on the last of the developmental edits, that is basically two routes that are going to be ready for beta-testing after the updated demo, which is very exciting! I am extremely happy with how Fenir's route has turned out after some developmental revisions, and I hope you all like the sweet little (grumpy) baby's route!

Art

Again, most (all) of my attention was on intertwine art assets this month. I was focused on the rest of the GUI, sprite expression, and CGs so that the game will be ready for release at the end of this month!

I'm really happy with how intertwine has come out visually considering the two month time crunch! Many of the playtesters mentioned how they liked the GUI and overall aesthetic of the game, which---for my pea-sized brain that has no object permanence when it comes to compliments---meant the world to me!

Review of intertwine Screenshots (left to right, starting at the top row): Main Menu Screen, Options/Preferences Screen, In-Game Dialogue Preview, Exhibit Preview

For Alaris, I did still get some new backgrounds from Vui, and while they are beautiful, I can no longer share them since they venture into spoiler territory. Sorry folks!

I have a sneak peek of a little Something Something.

Adorable emotes for a certain Something Something! That's all I will leave you with for now <3

Additional Notes

I spent A LOT of this month coding. I re-entered programming hell to get intertwine up and running. There were a lot of features that I coded for the first time, like a texting interface, some animations, and one Special, Very Game-Centric Feature That I Can't Disclose Due to Extreme Spoilers. It was really rewarding to see it all come together, and I am pretty happy with the end result ^^

You don't even know the hell I went through to customize this texting feature

We also have a lovely voice actor for Van, which we revealed on Twitter. Max has been an amazing talent to work with, and I am in love with the way he brought Van to life!!

Finally, I spontaneously ended up working with Orpheo Fenn and Kija of Faefield Productions for a custom intertwine soundtrack. I've been wanting to work with them for a while, so I'm so happy we were able to collab!

No market research this month, except for the fact that I played Tears of the Kingdom a little bit in my free time ^^ I am so in love with Link. Also, I didn't see the appeal to Sidon in the first game, but for some reason in this game, It Clicked. Like I Get It.

That's all from me for this month. Look forward to an intertwine release in the coming days! I'm excited to get back into Alaris full-swing this upcoming month. I didn't think I'd feel this way after feeling oversaturated with them for a hot minute, but I miss my Alaris gang <3 See you all next month, and stay safe!

#alaris #devlog

[penny00dreadful]

Well hi!

I'm a Steddie writer and artist, maybe with a few hints of Buckingham thrown in, that's primarily what you will find here.

I've been writing since the trenches of fanfiction.net.

My personal headcanon for these boys is they're kicking names and taking ass and they're all out of milk.

Artworks, podfics and translations welcome, just let me know cus I wanna see! 😊

1 Year Anniversary Post

Redbubble

Blood of the Covenant (AO3) - Eddie is an evil vampire for a little bit.

First Impressions (AO3) - Pride and Prejudice AU

Somebody To Love (Tumblr/AO3) - Personal Assistant Steve/Rockstar Eddie

Return of The King (Tumblr/AO3) - Steddie Vampire AU with a twist!

Comeuppance (Tumblr/AO3) - Dustin tries to parent-trap Stancy. It does not go according to plan.

Fettuccini (smut) (Tumblr/AO3) - Steve tells Eddie he's not allowed to cum for the entire month of November.

And They Were Roommates! - (Tumblr/AO3/Fic Art) - Enemies to lovers roomates AU

Cat and Mouse (Tumblr/AO3) - Rookie Mistake prequel fic. Spy AU, enemies to lovers, getting together.

Safety (Tumblr/AO3)- Robin is being followed and jumps into a group of metalheads to try and find safety.

Dish the Dish, Bish! (Tumblr)- Steve and Robin communicate badly about their respective crushes.

Crossroads (Tumblr/AO3)- Reincarnation AU. Beautiful cover art by @subbaculture

Like Ice (Tumblr) - Devil Wears Prada AU

To Find A Family - (Tumblr/AO3) - Anastasia AU

Before He Cheats - (Tumblr/AO3) - Eddie finds out his partner has been cheating on him when some guy named Steve calls.

The Parting Glass - (Tumblr/AO3) - Eddie is in mourning and moves back to Hawkins

Pink is My Signature Colour - (Tumblr) - Buckingham Legally Blonde AU

I'll Tell You My Sins and You Can Sharpen Your Knife - (Tumblr/AO3) - Songfic based off Take Me To Church

Love Is What Makes You Brave - (Tumblr/AO3) - Eddie found out Steve is getting married and is now idling in the church parking lot.

Rookie Mistake - (Tumblr/AO3) - Spies AU. Kidnapping. Murder husbands.

Hawkins Haunted House (AO3) - Steve gets roped into being a scare actor by Robin.

Family Commitments (AO3) - Eddie and Robin crash a family wedding Steve has to go to.

37 Years To The Day (Tumblr/AO3) - Steddie Time Travel

Please Don't Tell Steve!

Steddie First Kiss Writing Game

High Bitch King Steve

Friends Roasting Friends On Live

Fat Bottomed Girls

#penny ficlet

"Hey! That's mine!"

Drunk Talk

Star

"I can explain!"

Missed Mistletoe

Waking Up

Chill/Give In

I Couldn't Lose You

#stwgdailyprompt

Through The Valley - (Tumblr/AO3)- Post-Apocalypse AU

#wip excerpts

The Princess Bride Art

Twilight AU Art

Times Like These Art

Valentines Day Art

Pin Up Steve

D&D AU

Selkie Steddie

Buckingham Art

Steve Harrington: Vampire Hunter

Sub Eddie Week

Je Ne Regrette Rien Fanart

I Want To Hold Your Hand Fanart

Mer-Eddie

#penny art

#penny00dreadful #penny ask #personal #poll #penny ficlet #penny wips #stwgdailyprompt #penny art

[egg-emperor]

Since eggy paid off his debt with vector with his booty, it makes one wonder how many other debts he paid off or how many pickles he got out of that way 👀

That's literally one of my favorite concepts ever lol so yeah I certainly like to imagine he has done it multiple times over the years 🥴

As a villain and mastermind, he of course has many options in getting what he wants/refusing to repay any kind of debt etc both violent and smart and he also enjoys them a ton but in desperate horny times, he'll take the much naughtier option and offer himself. With a big plump butt and large mouth with big tongue like his, I imagine most people he offers such services to are interested in giving him a try, even if they were acting like they can't stand him. He finds many are secretly fascinated and curious 👀

This being a solid go to method he's used a few times is his excuse for why he really knows what he's doing and is clearly experienced in getting on his knees for someone and servicing them. Not only does he satisfy them and get out of tricky situations, he also uses it as his excuse to be a slut lol. Hoping that they'll see it as something he only does out of pure desperation at his limit because he doesn't often wanna admit to himself and others that he can enjoy being in the more submissive position

But he seems to enjoy it a little bit too much, the way he'll really exaggerate and play up the act of being vulnerable and desperate and at his wit's end on what else to do, even though they know he's way more dangerous and smarter than that and definitely has other options. XD He seems too into it with the way he'll beg and plead, takes his glasses off and bats his lashes at them while saying "ohhh please, I'll do anything else you want to repay you!" as he throws himself back, or gets down on his knees, or practically throws himself into their arms.

This dramatic fucking gay ass pose that I can't stop thinking about all the time is literally a prime example of what I think of lol it's so good

That is an absolute faggot I cannot put it lightly ahfoahdghakf

He's very manipulative and a good actor but they don't expect him to use it in this way, in such an unexpected situation for him. They know he's trying to be sweet and persuasive and really trying to play into and appeal to a fantasy but he definitely seems waaay too enthusiastic about it for it to all only be an act. There's definitely some truth to it and they don't believe that he's this good at it just by the amount of times he's decided to use it as a way out of situations like this... Though he has also done just that a good few times and likes it hehe ;)

I also see him pulling this same tactic even when he doesn't owe them anything, such as when he's on the ground defeated and an enemy walks over to him supposedly to finish him off, he'll be like "Ohh please don't kill me, surely there's some other way you can take out your frustrations on me and find some release!" And well he's not exactly very subtle in what he's trying to suggest with that when all they can see of him when approaching is his big fat ass in the air with legs spread and presenting to them when he's lay there like this lol

I'm just obsessed with using these two images and happy to bring them out again to provide some visuals fhsngksjgjs

#asks #dr eggman #eggman #dr robotnik #dr. eggman #suggestive #my post

[imperiuswrecked]

The best thing about Tenoch's casting is the salty dudebros. A while ago I searched his name on youtube to see if there were any new interviews and the first thing that came up was a video called "NAMOR CASTING WAS A TERRIBLE MISTAKE?!?!? IS THIS BRIE LARSON 2.0?!?!" (This was before the trailer release,so everyone knows they're not complaining about his acting) with the typical incel-y thumbnails they like so much. They also cry in comment sections "WAAAH NOT MUSCULAR ENOUGH HAS HE EVEN BEEN TO A GYM?!?! 😣😨😠" I KNEW his presence would piss off incel dudes (and a lot of yt women). He also recently shared that Idris Elba meme from The Office but the caption said "I'm aware of the effect I have on Whitexicans" 💀 I hope my dude gets to stick around,play a big role,get that disney cash and keep drinking incel tears.

Back when it was first RUMORED like not even confirmed, only rumored that Tenoch was going to play Namor, I watched in real-time the whole commotion and within hours there was already an uproar against the actor, we had people calling him too "ugly, short, fat, dark skinned" to play Namor, we had people calling him a racist, we had everyone against him and now I am LIVING for people choking on their tears.

The racist allegations? People who didn't understand Spanish taking his words and sarcasm out of context and trying to smear his name. Yet even after the first trailer was out we had people still call him unfit to lay Namor, even a comic artist (Deodato) who once drew Namor decided to show his ass online and claim he was in better shape :/

I've been a Namor fan since 2014 and trust me when I say that no one, NO ONE, except a very small group of comic fans, even cared about Namor. So every single new "Namor Expert" with something bad to say about Tenoch are only worth the effort I exert to press that block button.

I've always pushed for a Actor of Color to play Namor, and I used to get so many comic dudebros angry at me and arguing with me and claim that "Namor is White" (No. He isn't.) and now I get to sit back and watch as an amazing actor will forever be immortalized as Live Action Namor while they suffer.

I'm wishing Tenoch, Mabel, and the rest of the cast all the fame and fortune they deserve! 🔱

#namor #mcu namor #tenoch huerta #am I being petty? fuck yeah I am #in the end #I won #😌 #imp answers #black panther: wakanda forever

[probablynot-john]

Okay then for the ask game, let me think... We both know I was gonna give ya Kallus. Go!

Yeah I did know you were gonna ask me about him, that fine I'm happy to anyways!

First impression: well I was about 12 when I frist watched rebels and I kinda thought he was a big fat jerk. I thought his muttonchops were stupid.

Impression now: he's just a sad sleepy baby and I love him. He's a real bad ass and a /snarky son of a bitch/tm. All he ever really wanted to do was help people and it blew up spectacularly in his face and he didn't even realize. Also he's an excellent actor but has atrocious people skills. And his muttonchops are glorious.

Favorite moment: in "the Honorable ones" (*cough cough broke back mountain*) you can actually pin point the second he realizes he's in love with Zeb. It's just after the spectors leave and he leans against the wall to keep out of sight. You can actually see the gay panic on his face.

Story idea: Zeb meets the Lasat mercenary but he's so excited that there's another Lasat that he doesn't realize who he is. Kallus doesn't want to take away the opertunity to connect with another member of his species from Zeb so he just sits quietly in the back of the ghost definitely not having a panic attack until Ezra and Sabine find him. He doesn't want to worry them so they build a blanket fort together and get Kannan to go check on Zeb because even if he is with a lasat they're not going to just leave him alone with a dangerous murderer. Eventually Kallus is more scared for Zeb than he is for himself and he runs out to find him but he confronts the merc instead who eventually does recognize him. I'll eventually write the whole thing but that's it for now.

Unpopular opinion: Okay you're gonna hate me. He dies semi young, around early to mid 70s. Cause of death is heart failure due to decades of constant chronic stress.

Favorite relationship: Kalluzeb for life baby! Also love him being family with the spectors, him and Kannan bonding over growing up on Coruscant around the same time. I bet they both have *dad energy* when they hang out. They would both wear Hawaiian shirts and socks with sandels and rock out to Queen music. Of course Sabine would be super protective of Zeb and really not like Kallus hanging around him at first, but she warms up to him after she sees how much Zeb likes him. Then she starts to like him more than Zeb (but she only says that to tease him) Kallus calls her "his favorite" right infront of Zeb. He doesn't really get along with Rex at first. Every civilian on Coruscant during the war has a "complicated" opinion on the clones. Actually I'll just make a separate post for all of them.

Favorite headcannon: OH man how could I narrow it down to just one!? I can't, here's 3:

1. He has scars from the lasat merc that he's extremely self conscious about. He was terrified to show them to Zeb because he thought he would be seen as "damaged goods" or Zeb would think he got them on lasan and be reminded of what a terrible person he is.

2. When he was a teenager he was very good in school, always ambitious but also had a manageable but harmful substance abuse problem. He used to blackout drinking and get into bar fights almost every night, and got high every other night.

Someone: you know your future self is gonna hate you.

Young Kallus: jokes on that asshole, I'm gonna ruin his life.

3. He is a massive dork. He would love murder mystery novels, sings to himself as he cooks and talks to his pet tooka. One time he got a concussion because he sneezed and smacked his face against a wall.

#star wars #alexsandr kallus #sw rebels #hot kallus #garazeb orrelios #kalluzeb #star wars rebels #incorrect star wars rebels quotes #ezra bridger #sabine wren #star wars rebels headcanons #ask game #writing

[talesofbirbal]

The Taming of the Bear

"Get out there, big boy," rasped 24 year old Jake in his sexy, American accent, slapping Keith's mountainous butt cheeks with a loud thwack, then cheekily thrusting his finger deep into his hole, before playfully shoving the hairy behemoth onto set, bare ass naked, to perform his next scene, cock springing spontaneously into erection, all glorious 13 inches of it.

There was a pause as Bobby, the scrawny director of Sunny Hill Adult Studios and boyfriend of Keith, his prime performer, the four twinky porn actors, the cameramen and other assembled onlookers gawped in amazement at Jake's cockiness, expecting Bobby to tear into him any moment. 

But there was nothing. Only silence. Jake, the studio's dazzling new star, smirking smugly to himself, taking in every inch of Keith's tall, middle-aged, muscular-but-going-to-seed, furry ball-gutted body.

"Cut," barked Bobby. "Erection is too soon, start again as soon as we can,"

Keith blushed and looked shyly at Bobby, who bore a huffy scowl on his face.

*

In order to appreciate how the scene described above came about, it is necessary to go back four months, to when Jake was still in America, before he came to the UK to join Sunny Hill Adult Studios. Jake's small living room, one quiet evening, when he was entertaining Scott, his best friend, one-time boyfriend and fellow performer in the adult entertainment industry.

"Do you remember that Keith Starr guy I talked about?" asked Jake.

Scott burst into giggles. "Yeah, I remember, that fat old dude you're so crazy about!"

"Well, something interesting has come up," cut in Scott. "Bobby Woodward, the director of Sunny Hill, has offered me a shitload - and I mean an absolute shitload - of money to go to the UK and produce material with them."

Scott's mouth gaped. He knew Sunny Hill paid big, but he also knew why as well.

"I know you worked for them at one time," Jake continued. "I was hoping you could give me the low-down, share some gossip, y'know."

Scott put on his serious face.

"It's not like that, is it?" asked Jake, concerned.

"That place, Keith Starr and Bobby Woodward, especially Bobby Woodward really - they've got a certain notoriety."

"Maybe I like me some notoriety," crooned Jake, perking up.

"Not this, you wouldn't," said Scott. "They're... well to be fair they're not gropey or rapey, never seen or heard anything like that..."

"Can't be so bad then," said Jake. "You know what some of the people in the industry in the US are like..."

"But they are...rough."

"Rough?"

"Bobby gets off on seeing Keith fuck guys less than half his age and size senseless, brutally, blood gushing out of their anuses sort-of-stuff... I've seen it, and it's horrible. Keith's the 100 percent alpha male, never kisses a guy, never sucks a guy, never bottoms - all he does, literally ever, is fuck asses and faces. Now, I'm not saying those lads don't know what they're getting themselves into, but at the same time, having seen it, having it done to me once in fact...it's just not right. They know they have to perform or Bobby, who is the biggest asshole I've ever known, will chuck them out. So it's pressure, you see?"

"I heard Bobby is a skinny runty little bastard, and I got that impression on the phone as well. But they're not doing anything wrong or illegal are they?"

"Well, not illegal, but it's... it's carnage. You're a piece of meat there."

"What's Keith like?"

Scott pulled a disgusted face.

"Well?"

"I find the man repulsive, the way he behaves both on set and around the studio."

"What do you mean?"

"It's not natural, his libido. It's legendary. He can literally provide an erection on command. Whenever there's a fucking scene, and the guy is losing it, is not able to perform...Bobby just calls out to Keith to finish off the shoot, just to literally provide the shot of the big cock fucking some poor guy's face or ass."

"Wow. He never can't hold an erection? Never?"

"Never, ever. God knows how. That man has been in porn since he was 20, and he's what, 51 now?" said Scott, who did a quick Google search on his mobile phone and confirmed. "Yup, 51 years old now and still going."

"You've got to admire that," said Jake, leaning back, fantasising about the big hairy bear daddy he wanked over so much.

"What I can't understand is why he's still in the business and so popular, a star performer. I mean, have you actually seen what he looks like?"

Jake smiled lasciviously. "6 foot 4 inches and 290 pounds of daddy meat," he announced in a thrilled whisper.

"I mean, he's fat, he's old, he's covered in all that hair, and I'm sorry, he's disgusting, just disgusting."

Scott laughed.

"When I was over there, I saw the amount he eats, and the way he eats, and it's just untrue. That man, I swear, as he gets older, his appetite for food and his appetite for sex are getting bigger and bigger and bigger. That's what they all told me there, people who'd known him years. And I saw it. You know how I told you about how they bring him on set just to do the cock shots when one of the other guys is flagging? Seriously, I've seen him on the set, fucking a guy whilst he's shoveling a hoagie or a kebab down his face, getting it all over his beard and chest hair. The camera won't show that, because it's only focusing lower down, but that's what's happening."

Scott burst into laughter.

"That man is a pig, he's fucking gruesome! I can't understand how you're sitting there, thinking it's all so funny. Can you imagine actually having to work around all of this?"

"Well, he's a success," said Jake, recovering from his laughter. "You can't doubt that, everyone knows him."

"I refuse to call him a success," said Scott, "but he is... a phenomenon, yes, he is that. I don't know why. There is the bear niche, the chub niche, the daddy niche, whatever we call all of that, but Keith Starr's audience is way beyond that."

"What do you reckon?"

"Honestly? Having this guy in the films makes the losers who pay the subscriptions think that if a hideous fat, hairy, over-sexed middle-aged ogre like Keith Starr can get to fuck all these sexy twinks, then maybe they stand a chance too."

"You really think that's all there is to it, man?" Jake asked.

"I don't pretend to know what it is and frankly I don't want to know, I don't want to get into the mindset of a person who gets off to Keith Starr," he said, jabbing his finger at Jake, causing Jake to explode with laughter again, "but that's my best guess."

After his guffawing had stopped, Jake became serious. "I've accepted the offer to work at Sunny Hill."

"You what?"

"Last night. Bobby Woodward practically begged me. He knows I'm the next big thing, and he needs to get me before someone else does. He offered me anything I want."

"You're making a mistake, Jake. I've been there. You'll hate it."

"In fact," said Jake coolly, twirling his finger round and round. "I obtained a special understanding from Bobby, before I agreed to come."

"What?"

"Full creative control over scenes I am in," he whispered, "and Keith Starr has to be at my entire command, to serve me in any way I demand."

*

"Before we start again, run us through just one more time what you want, Jake," said Bobby, while Keith poured a bottle of water over his gargantuan cock, trying to calm his erection.

"Very straightforward, should be easy enough for everyone," Jake cheerily replied. "All I want is for Keith to do what I saw him do yesterday, and what I hear he does all the time here. Pound four guys, one after the other, while eating that chicken cheesesteak hoagie," he said. "Which I see he's already starting on," he added with a grin, noticing Keith with the hoagie almost touching his mouth, and everybody laughed.

"Don't eat it all yet, that's got to last you the full scene," barked Bobby, and there was more laughter.

"The only difference," continued Jake, "is this time I want the camera to focus on the fucking and the eating, not just the fucking like you guys usually do."

The cameraman gave Jake a thumbs up of acknowledgement. Jake then gave Keith his sweetest smile, which to Keith's embarrassment, sent his cock shooting upwards again.

"Oh for Chris-sake!" complained Bobby, clearly in a bad mood, as usual.

"It's okay," said Jake, placatingly, he's fine as he is, let's go."

"Well, it's your scene," grumbled Bobby, remembering he had agreed to give Jake creative control over some of his scenes and some of Keith's too. He was not keen on starting like this, as he feared his viewers would be disappointed if they missed the sight of Keith's member evolving from limp to fully erect, but if this was how Jake wanted things, so be it.

The scene played out perfectly, just as Jake had hoped. Keith fucked four different twinks while eating his chicken cheesesteak hoagie, and after that going through several pizzas slices and chocolate cupcakes which Jake thoughtfully provided, before blowing his load in glory into the fourth twink's ass. Jake stood mesmerised throughout the whole scene, which lasted longer than an hour, amazed by how huge Keith was, how horny he was, how long he could last, how much food he could cram into his gut, and most of all, by his round, bloated, utterly stuffed belly, which he could not resist stroking with his fingers when Keith lumbered off stage.

"Want me to do you next?" Keith shyly asked Jake, not used to having his belly touched like that, but longing to get his hands on Jake, who he felt hotter for than any other performer he could remember.

Jake planted his lips softly on Keith's, and plucked some pizza out of his beard. "Come to mine at 7pm," he said in a quiet voice. "I'm going to be giving you your orders." 

Keith felt a tremor of electricity going right through him. He had never been spoken to like that before. Jake, he knew already, was something else, something outside all of his experience. And he felt so excited, he could hardly wait for 7pm to arrive.

*

Jake answered the door wearing just his shorts, his sensual, athletic body glimmering in the sunlight. Keith was in tracksuit bottoms and a t-shirt which was huge, but getting small for his gut, his belly straining at the fabric and threatening to peek out at the bottom any moment, manboobs bulging out too, and his bellyhole marking out a big round indent as well.

"I've been so looking forward to you coming," said Jake, tapping Keith's navel, taking him softly by the hand and leading him inside. Jake noticed, as he led Keith inside and saw him take his seat, how shy, almost embarrassed he was, very different to how he was on set, where he seemed a quiet but unmistakably forceful presence.

"I'm going to ask you something," said Jake sweetly. "And I know you and Bobby agreed I could ask anything of you and all that, but I want you to know you're allowed to say no to this, it will be okay, I won't cut out of the deal or anything, if it makes you uncomfortable, because it's a bit weird..."

"Ask away," said Keith, managing a goofy smile, sitting awkwardly. This guy is so unimaginably adorable, thought Jake. I don't think he can have been on a date or a real social meeting or anything in forever. Such a big, gorgeous guy, but so unsure of himself, God I'm finding him so sexy.

"I'd find it really, really sexy, and I think also extremely interesting from an artistic point of view, if you could get a bit fatter for me," said Jake, allowing himself to blush a little.

Keith suddenly laughed, and his face and body relaxed. "Do you know, I was terrified you were going to ask me to lose weight? Bobby has been on to me about that for ages, especially since we learned you were coming, he told me it was sure to be the first thing you'd insist on."

"Really?" said Jake, amused by the irony. But I suppose that's not so surprising, he thought on reflection.

"He never shuts up about it, always telling me it will be the end of my career," said Keith.

"I want to tell you something, Keith," said Jake. "I've had the biggest crush on you for the longest time, especially since you've gained this weight. I've never jacked off about anyone as much as I do you."

"You're joking, right?"

"You're the only one I want."

"I thought you and Xander had a thing going," Keith said, referring to one of the other performers who Jake had done a scene with on set.

"Xander has a crush on me, although I think he also wants to ingratiate himself with me to get more scenes with me, to advance his career," said Jake. "But he does nothing for me, not like you do. I'm only doing some scenes with Xander and a few others to keep Bobby happy, to give him the material he wants. The thing I really want, though, Keith, is you, it's always been you. Remember the understanding I got before I even agreed to come here: it's not Xander I want to be all mine, it's you."

Jake leaned across Keith's big belly and started to kiss him, but as his tongue went in, Keith started to look a bit uncomfortable, so Jake softly backed off.

"So what's your weight now?" Jake asked. "The website said 290 pounds."

"Umm, it might be more than that now..."

"Oh really?," said Jake with a smile. "Mind if I weigh you?"

"So long as you don't tell Bobby the reading."

"Oh, that man has no taste at all!"

Jake scurried off to fetch the scales from the bathroom, then returned with them and placed them on the floor. Keith stepped up to stand on them, but Jake held out his hand.

"Naked please," said Jake. "Just so we're, uh, being absolutely professional and consistent with our weigh-ins."

An awkward expression formed briefly on Keith's face, but he obliged, and started to undress. This poor guy, he is so shy doing this, thought Jake. But why is he so unselfconscious on set, but embarrassed here? Is it that the set is his natural habit, where he can function naked all the time, but elsewhere is different? Is it that I've spooked him by telling him I adore his body and want him fatter...?

"303 pounds," announced Jake, reading the scale. "Very good. Very good indeed. Seems like you started on your mission before I even got here."

"My weight seems to be going up all the time anyway," said Keith. "I don't think gaining more will be any effort."

Jake stood back, taking in all of Keith's bare naked body, wishing he could devour every inch of him there and then.

"Oh man, Keith, you are so beautiful," said Jake, adding in a quieter voice "it was worth coming here just for you, not for the money or career or anything else, just for you," and he approached Keith, hugging him, holding him. Keith relaxed, his face melted, and he wrapped his thick arms around Jake, his paws stroking up and down Jake's sides.

A few tears rolled down Keith's eyes.

"Hey, big guy," said Jake, holding Keith tighter and stroking his beard. "Tell me what's up? You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"Nobody's ever liked me before until this. Not for the longest time anyway."

"Oh, come on, I can't believe that," comforted Jake.

"All the performers make comments about me, behind my back and sometimes right in front of me. They all find me gross, I know it. They hate doing anything with me."

Jake thought back guiltily to the conversation he had with Scott before he flew over. Scott had found him gross, and yes, Jake admitted to himself, I found it funny, found it a turn on even, to think about how awful Scott and all the others found their experiences around Keith. Yet this was, this is, a real human being, with feelings, this real guy in my arms, crying right in front of me.

"Keith," said Jake, "I've never met anyone as amazing, as gorgeous as you are."

"Really?"

Jake gestured with his eyes towards the raging hard-on bulging in his shorts, and Keith smiled.

"I know we adult entertainers have to get hard dicks all the time, but this is real, Keith, this is really for you," Jake said. "And this - and all those folks who pay subscriptions for your films - proves you're not gross, you're a sexy, sexy, sexy man."

"I don't feel it."

"Why not?"

"Bobby never touches me any more, never wants me to touch him. There's been nothing there for a long, long time. I'm just one of his performers now, not something special, like what I thought I was before...Now I think about it, though, I don't think I was special to him even then."

Everybody knows Bobby is one of the biggest bastards in the industry, thought Jake. Hasn't anyone told Keith that?

"He goes with other guys instead," said Keith. "Like Xander... I think that's how he got those scenes with you."

"You know Xander can't do for me what you do for me."

"But Xander and the others know stuff, can do stuff I don't know how to do."

"How do you mean?"

"The way I've always been with Bobby... I have to act like I'm a straight guy having gay sex basically, and that was always both on set, and in my private life too. I've never been allowed to properly kiss a guy, with tongues, you know. Or do other stuff, like suck a guy, or be the bottom. All I'm allowed to do is fuck. I'm a fuck monster basically, that's what he calls me, his fuck monster."

Jake took some moments to take all of this in. This was strange, twisted, he thought. Before I came here I would never have believed Keith could be so vulnerable, or so absolutely under the thumb of another guy, but he is, he really is.

"That's okay, Keith," said Jake. "You don't have to do any of those things to make me happy."

An expression formed on Keith's face. Was it disappointment or confusion, wondered Jake.

"But I would love, I mean really love, to teach you," Jake added.

Keith broke into a smile, and for the rest of the evening, he and Jake were snuggled up on the sofa, Jake teaching Keith how to kiss, and the two of them touching each other all over their bodies. Then, later on, Jake plied Keith with beers, and ordered four extra large pizzas, cajoling Keith to guzzle up slice after slice with belly rubs and cock play, until they both crashed out together in bed, Jake's head resting on Keith's stuffed, gluttonous belly. It was the happiest night either of them could remember. 

*

Back on set, Keith sat sprawled naked across a giant bean bag, stuffing his face with a kebab, and periodically partaking of the scrumptious bacon rolls Jake had lovingly made for him, assembled on a plate resting on a small coffee table within easy reach. As he munched away, four twinks devoted themselves to his pleasure, one each sucking on each tit, and the others licking and sucking his hefty balls and inner thighs. Jake smiled, enjoying the fantasy he was seeing enacted on set, whilst Bobby looked askance at the cameraman, silently communicating how awful he thought this whole scene was. Bobby was not used to not being able to call the shots, and he did not like one moment of it. "This will never sell," he muttered quietly to Xander, the performer he got on best with at the moment. Xander though, he knew, was not the star here, at least not yet. The stars, Bobby well knew, were that ageing lardball he pretended to call a boyfriend, and Jake.

After some while, with Keith dripping with sweat and belly and cock swelling obscenely, Jake dove in between Keith's legs and took the honours for himself, worshipping Keith's great round gut with his fingers, lips and tongue, licking out his deep bellyhole, then taking his big cock expertly into his mouth, swallowing the full length deep into his throat, driving Keith into a wailing frenzy which took Bobby and the other staff aback. Keith was not meant to make much noise; that was against his established image. He was meant to be a few masculine grunts and that was it, not howling like a whore like most of the other performers did. When will this all be over, thought Bobby to himself.

*

"Jump on the scales for me, big boy," said Jake, leading Keith by the hand to his weighing scales.

"335," reported Keith. He did not feel the least self-conscious or awkward being naked at Jake's place now. He knew how much Jake adored him, and it just felt so natural.

Jake's hands wandered all over Keith's big belly, feeling up every curve and bulge, squeezing every newly-forming lovehandle. Keith squeezed Jake close to him, and Jake melted, then thrust his tongue deeply and passionately into Keith's mouth, unable to get enough.

"You know I find you so damned handsome," Jake said when he finally came out for air. "Your body drives me wild, you know that, but I am crazy for your face, you are the most handsome guy I ever met," he said, running his fingers around Keith's chubby jowls and stroking his sexy black-flecked-with-grey beard.

Keith had never felt so physically, sexually wanted, needed before. Sure, he'd done porn shot after porn shot, all through his adult life, but never anything so real, so passionate, emotional as this. "Tell me what I can do to make you feel good," Keith pleaded. "Nothing, nothing turns me on more than seeing you excited over me."

"You know you're not ugly, don't you," continued Jake. "I don't want you to ever think you are ugly again, no matter what those jerks on set say. You are the most gorgeous man in the world."

Keith raised his eyebrows.

"Say you are the most beautiful man in the world," pressed Jake.

"I don't know about that," said Keith, "but I know I am the most beautiful man in the world to you, and that makes me the happiest man in the world, and that's very happy."

That was all the excuse Jake needed to guide the big man to his bedroom and throw himself on top of him on the bed, making out with him passionately.

"Your face is so goddamned sexy," Jake hissed, "I really want to fuck it, if that would be okay?"

Keith nodded obligingly. He had always been unsure about sucking dick, but had been fantasising about doing this with Jake for some while now, and this, his first such experience, did not disappoint for either of them.

"You have no idea how cute you look right now," said Jake, snapping a photo of Keith's hairy cum-splattered face with his mobile phone. 

"You've gotta show that to Bobby. He'll never believe it, he'd be so shocked!"

*

For their next session on set, Jake took his fantasies one step further, directing that Keith get down on his knees and eat and lick four donuts off his long, thick, hard cock.

"I won't say I'm keen," protested Bobby. "This goes against Keith's image, which we've built up for three decades. He doesn't give oral, he only receives."

Jake flashed Bobby the photo on his mobile phone, and Bobby grimaced. "Been having fun, you two, eh?"

"Well, we did agree," said Keith, reminding Bobby of the understanding they reached when Jake came to work for the studio.

"I'll do some more scenes with Xander, if that makes you feel better about this," offered Jake, remembering how eager Bobby was to pair him and Xander together. Xander's face could not conceal his delight.

Bobby nodded. Keith can't have long left for his career anyway, he thought.

"Good, then," said Jake, walking onto set, stroking his big dick until it was at full mast, then skewering the four donuts onto it, one after the other. Bobby's eyes rolled upwards, and Jake winked at Keith, who clambered onto the set too, and got down to business. As Keith tenderly consumed the donuts, Jake gazed into the screen, enjoying the perfect angle of seeing Keith on all fours, belly hanging down, huge round ass taking up a quarter of the image. I want that so badly, thought Jake, thrusting his dick deeper into Keith's mouth, delicious thoughts going through his mind about how much it would turn him on to introduce his sexy big boy to the exquisite delights of bottoming. You have no idea how hard and how many times I am going to fuck you, big boy, he thought, plowing more donut and dick into Keith's mouth, and you have no idea how much you are going to beg me for more and more.

*

"I saw the way you were looking at my ass in the screen," said Keith.

"You never?" said Jake.

"From one of the mirrors at the other side of the set. C'mon, I know you want to fuck me so bad, don't you."

Jake's face beamed.

"We can try, if you want..."

"I want to so much, but first I have some games to play and toys to play with..."

With that, Jake took Keith by the hand and led him gracefully but assertively to the bedroom, then lowered Keith's pants, produced a chastity device as if from nowhere and clamped it onto Keith's big dick.

"You know what this is?"

"What the fuck?"

"You not seen one of these before?"

Keith lifted up his dick and tried to examine the device, but could not get a proper look because his great fat belly was in the way.

"Come here," said Jake, grinning, leading Keith by the hand towards his wardrobe mirror.

"I've not seen anything like this before. What is it?"

For someone who had worked in the porn industry for over 30 years, Keith was remarkably innocent, Jake thought. He was not surprised, though, because he had already seen a lot of what Keith was like in this respect.

"I'm gonna be keeping you all horned up, not able to wank, not able to get hard," whispered Jake. "I'm gonna make you so desperate."

Keith, blessed with an unusually high sex drive and used to frequent hard-ons and orgasms, trembled at the prospect of being locked up like this. It was so cruel, so frustrating. But also, he had to admit, so fucking hot. Yes, he was being locked up, but he was being locked up by and for Jake, and there could be nothing more tantalising than that.

"Good job we've got no filming for a week," said Keith.

"I have some other toys to play with," said Jake, producing a small dildo.

For the next six days, Jake teased and taunted Keith mercilessly about his predicament, doing sexy dances and stripteases for him to make his blood hot, but never releasing him from the device. He continued to ply Keith with beer and food as well, finding, to his delight, that the lack of access to sexual arousal increased Keith's appetite tenfold. Most excitingly for Keith, though, Jake introduced him to dildos, small ones at first, then slightly bigger ones, then ones that were even bigger. He had never experienced anything like this before, this pleasure in his anus, more intense than anything he could have imagined. It was unbelievable, he thought, that at the age of 51, he was discovering and re-learning sex in such a thrilling new way.

"I'm gonna give you some real dick now," hissed Jake on the seventh day, putting aside the dildo, dropping his pants, and finally giving Keith what he had been begging for all week.

"Oh yes, yes, yes!" squealed Keith, on all fours, thrusting his fat ass as hard as he could into Jake's crotch, as Jake entered him for the first time.

"Take my dick, baby, it's all yours, big boy," said Jake, unlocking the chastity device and pounding him as vigorously as he could. Keith's pent-up, newly-unleashed cock became engorged in moments to massive proportions, bigger than Jake had ever seen it before, gyrating back and forth and side to side, along with his obese gargantuan jiggling belly and tits and humongous fat round ass as Jake gave him the time of his life. Neither of them could last long, both blowing their loads and collapsing in a heap together, Jake on top of Keith, both panting and sweating. It was not the longest fuck, but both would agree, years later, that it was the best either could remember.

*

"Run me through the plan for this scene," said Bobby.

"Kinky policeman and the shoplifter," said Jake, looking dashing in the police uniform he was dressed up in.

"Ah yes, interesting..." said Bobby, exchanging a cynical glance with Xander, who was stood nearby, getting frustrated at being kept hanging around so long and wondering when he would get another scene with Jake.

"Up you get, big man," teased Jake, handcuffing Keith and slapping his ample ass, gesturing for him to come onto the set. The scene began.

"Stand straight, stop slouching fatboy," snapped Jake from behind his desk, looking every inch the handsome, authoritative, son-of-a-bitch policeman.

Keith, dressed in shorts and a vest that was way too small, shuffled nervously and stood straight.

"You are here in my office because you were caught stealing chocolate eclairs from Mrs Greaves' shop in town. What have you to say for yourself?"

"I am sorry, sir, I was hungry and didn't have any money."

"You were hungry? You are pleading hunger as your excuse, your motive, for this gratuitous act of theft?"

"I know it is not an excuse sir," mumbled Keith, staring at the floor.

Jake got up and started prodding and poking Keith in the belly.

"Do you consider yourself underfed, boy?"

"No sir."

"Then what is this you are telling me about hungry?"

"I don't know, sir, I wanted something to eat."

"I wanted something to eat," taunted Jake, mimicking Keith's voice. "Well I would say you've done more than your share of eating, wouldn't you?" he roared, grabbing hold of a mound of Keith's belly flab and squeezing hard. Keith yelped.

"Yes, sir," said Keith, terrified.

"Do you have any children or family who are starving?"

"No sir."

"Well," continued Jake, considering. "If you had a starving family back home, I might have gone soft on you, though even then I'd have suggested you stop chowing so much and give everyone else a chance to eat," he said, punching Keith softly in the gut. "But as it is...nah, man, I think I'm gonna have to teach you a lesson." Keith lifted his nightstick from its sheath.

"Please sir, not that, not that sir..."

"Please sir, not that, not that sir..." taunted Jake, mimicking Keith's voice again. "Well, if we're not gonna do that, we could do another way..."

"Anything sir."

"Do you wanna see what I do to greedy fatboys who steal donuts from law-abiding business people trying to make a decent honest living?" snarled Jake, walking behind Keith.

Keith trembled, and Jake took in every moment of his fat ass, thicc thighs and legs going wobbly.

"Let me show you, fatboy," barked Jake, and pulled down Keith's shorts, thrust him forward chest down onto his desk and proceeded to fuck him.

"Eat those donuts, fatboy."

Keith grasped one of the donuts he had stolen, sitting in a cardboard box on the desk, and started to eat it.

"Faster, fatboy," snapped Jake, smacking Keith's rear as hard as he could.

"Owwwww!"

"Faster!"

Keith consumed donut after donut, his chest facing down over the desk, his legs splayed open wide, the merciless, horny, kinky policeman taking his pleasure from behind. On and on, this scene continued, until Jake blew his load. But he wasn't going to wait for Keith to cum too. 

"Johnson," barked Keith, pulling up his trousers.

One of the twink performers, also dressed as a police officer, came in the door.

"Lock this fat fuck up in the cell," said Jake, manhandling Keith, with impressive strength, up off the desk and into the arms of the other officer, who led Keith away, panting and sweating profusely, dick still straining and engorging like crazy.

*

"It's that time again, sexy boy," said Jake, pulling out the scales. Keith hopped on, bare ass naked as usual.

Jake whistled. "378," he announced. "Fuck you're getting so fucking big," he added, and crept up behind Keith, running his hands all over his big round furry body. "You are one big fat sexy daddy bear."

Jake and Keith's sexual relationship had been getting more and more intense and kinky and imaginative, both on and off the set. Their personal relationship had deepened too, and Keith had come to trust and be relaxed with Jake a lot more, but there were still some things, some areas, where it was difficult for Jake to get much out of Keith. One of these was about the exact relationship between Bobby and Keith and the financial aspects involved. So far as Jake could see, they called each other boyfriends, but the relationship was in name only, and Bobby clearly did not care a fig about Keith, was never interested if he had a problem or was feeling unwell or whatever. Plus, to Jake's amazement, despite the fact Keith never went out and had no spending extravagances other than food, and was bringing in shedloads of money for the studio, Keith showed no obvious signs of wealth. To the contrary, Jake got the impression Keith was hard up, as he always made excuses not to go out with Jake, saying he had no money and refusing Jake's offers to pay for him.

"This has been really bugging me, and I know it's personal, and it's sensitive..." Jake said, "but please, you've got to tell me, what does Bobby actually give you for all the work you do for him? What's your contract?"

"He lets me stay at his place," said Keith. That is true enough, thought Jake, yes, Bobby gives Keith a room, but that can't be worth so much in financial terms. With the career he has had, Keith ought to have a nice big house of his own by now.

"What does he pay you, though?"

"I don't like talking about it."

On and on the discussion went on, Jake pressing, Keith resisting, until finally, with great patience, Jake succeeded in getting Keith to tell him the actual details. And boy, did it make Jake angry. Keith was being taken to the cleaners by Bobby, seriously exploited, not just recently but for more than three decades. I should be really shocked right now, thought Jake, but he was not, because he had long sensed something was odd between Keith and Bobby.

"You realise, if you told this to anyone else in the industry, or anyone else anywhere, they would tell you Bobby is screwing you?"

"I don't know, it's just how it's always been."

Keith is so simple, thought Jake. But I knew this already, why am I surprised? I've got to help him get him out of this. 

"Keith, I want to take you away from all of this. After we've finished the current round of filming, the stuff we've both agreed we'll do, I want us to go somewhere else, just you and me."

"But I've never been anywhere, done anything else..."

"We can do it, Keith, you and me."

*

The final day of Keith and Jake's shooting came. They knew this, of course; Bobby did not know, expecting them to sign up to a renewal of their contracts.

"So one scene for you, and one for me, we're agreed?" Bobby asked Jake. He was impatient with having to give so much filming over to Jake, for all this stuff he did not feel was commercial enough, some of which undermined Keith's long-established industry image.

"Agreed," said Jake. "And I want to do a face-sitting scene. These are becoming more popular, y'know, they're not such a niche thing anymore, this is in everybody's fantasies today."

Oh Christ, thought Bobby, not more of this nonsense...

"Where is Adrian," asked Jake. Adrian was nowhere to be seen. Adrian had been lined up for a face-sitting scene with Keith, but by surreptitious arrangement with Jake, had agreed to go AWOL.

"He's not here," grumbled Bobby. "Look, we've limited time and I want to get around to the scene I want to do. Can't you do this scene in Adrian's place?"

Jake scratched his chin. "Hmmm... I would...but do you know what? I don't think I'm right for this. It's not that I'm unwilling to do it or anything, it's just I don't have the vibes for this particular thing, y'know...?"

"So what do we do then?"

"I hope you don't mind me saying, but I actually think you would be perfect for this, absolutely perfect. You've got this thing that I don't have...and that I don't think Xander has either, all due respect to him..."

Xander breathed a sigh of relief at avoiding getting conscripted into having Keith's fat ass sat on his face.

"I suppose I can do it," said Bobby, flattered by Jake's honeyed words and eager to rush through the shooting.

Unbeknownst to anyone else, Jake had spent the whole day up to now wheedling Keith into eating like an elephant and consuming gallons of beer and fizzy drink.

Bobby rarely took part in shoots himself these days, but he did occasionally, and he now got up to play his role, dressed in jeans and t-shirt, laid out on the floor. Then Keith strolled onto the set, fully naked, and plonked his behind over Bobby's face, as gently as he could, trying not to crush him too much.

"Relax more, Keith," said Jake. "You've gotta relax more if we're to make this work, don't worry, your ass is in the exact right position over his face, he can support you..."

Keith relaxed more, and Bobby felt the excruciating pain and indignity of his face being crushed deeper into Keith's ass.

"Drink some cola, Keith," ordered Jake, and Keith began drinking the cola, as the camera started to roll.

Before long, Keith felt the bubbles beginning to rise up in his stomach. Oh fuck, he thought, holding in his fart as much as he could.

"Keep drinking that cola, Keith," Jake instructed, knowing exactly what he was doing. "And relax, come on, don't worry, be relaxed, we're all professionals here, doesn't matter if you've got a little wind or whatever." Bobby grimaced, under the weight of Keith's ass, unable to move or say anything.

Keith finished off the rest of the cola, and at Jake's instruction, someone handed him another one. I can't hold this in much longer, thought Keith.

A rippling went through Keith's insides. Oh fuck, oh fuck, he thought.

"Don't look pained, just relax, smile," Jake coaxed Keith.

And then it happened, and it was reverberatingly loud, lasting a good 10 seconds.

Then a pause.

Then another one, much louder, but shorter.

Jake smiled at Keith, gesturing to him to be calm, to let it all out.

Then another one, quieter, but lasting much longer, maybe a good 30 seconds.

"Excellent, boys," whispered Jake, "just a little more to go."

Keith felt an urgent rumbling of pressure in his stomach, his anus twitching and clenching like crazy, trying to hold it in...

A mumbling emerged from Keith's ass, but this time it was not Keith, it was Bobby, his arms now starting to flail, signalling his desperation to escape.

"And just hold a bit longer, we're almost there..." said Jake.

Keith could hold in no more, his insides deflated, and a massive, thunderous fart thundered and gurgled around the studio, sounding more loathsome than the most nauseous of toilet noises, causing even the cameraman - no stranger to most things - to contort his face in repugnance.

Xander, loyal to his master, rushed onto the set, grabbed Keith's hands and helped drag him up, relieving the pressure on Bobby.

"Are you okay, Bobby?" asked Xander, holding Bobby by his queasy-looking face.

"Water," mumbled Bobby.

Xander went off to fetch water, but by the time he had returned, Bobby had staggered to his feet, and everybody but Bobby noticed one thing: a tiny brown smear above the left side of Bobby's right nostril.

*

Several hours later, Bobby called the whole team back to the set, to film his last scene for the current series.

"This should be very straightforward, we've done it so many times before," Bobby said. "I want one more scene using the winning formula, that thing we know the fans pay to see again and again and again - Keith the fuck monster."

They all knew what that meant. Keith ferociously, pulverisingly fucking guy after guy.

"Xander, you're first, then Brian, then Joe, then Kieran, then Jake for the final cumshot."

Xander and Keith both got up onto the set, but they all saw something was wrong, something unusual that had never happened before. Keith's dick was limp. Normally, the problem was sometimes the other way round, with Keith being too hard before he got on set, but this was something different.

"Cut," growled Bobby. "Xander, give him some prep."

Xander played around with Keith's member, trying to arouse it, but nothing would happen. Then Jake stepped in, started sucking on Keith's nipples, one after the other, then started to kiss him. Hey presto, Keith was on form again

"Rolling," ordered Bobby, and Xander kneeled into position, but within a short amount of time, Keith was floppy again.

"Okay, we'll try again in 15 minutes," announced Bobby.

When they started the next time, Bobby told Keith and Kieran to start things off, but although Keith had his erection at the beginning, it quickly faded.

"I'm sorry," said Keith, "I don't think I can do these kind of scenes anymore. They don't mean anything to me, they don't do anything for me, at all, not now."

"Keith," scolded Bobby, growing impatient, "you're a professional, you've got to perform, it's your job."

"Maybe I could do it if we changed the script, some kissing and hugging for instance, and me getting to please the other guy as well."

Bobby frowned. "That's not how this works, Keith. You know your image, what the fans love you for. All that gay stuff is fine for the others but not for you."

"Then I can't do it."

"Don't say that, Keith. Look, this happens to every performer some day, not being able to get it up. It's a nuisance, but so what? Look, give it an hour, then we'll try again, and if it still doesn't work, we try again tomorrow."

"No," said Keith, discovering a strength of resolution he did not realise he had. "I'm not doing that sort of scene again, the senseless, aggressive fucking, with no love or gentleness in it, the guys walking off set in pain all the time. That's not who I am any more."

"Keith you're over-reacting."

"No I'm not, this is about me and who I am and what I'm willing to do and not willing to do."

Bobby finally lost his temper. "For fuck's sake, Keith!"

"I don't know what else to say to you."

"Well I know what to say to you: you're fired! And evicted too. You've got 24 hours to clear your stuff out of my house."

With that, Bobby stormed off, and everybody looked at Jake, practically the unofficial deputy director, wondering what he would say.

"Let's do a scene just me and Keith," Jake said.

Keith was initially not keen on this proposal, feeling in a sour mood, but he could not resist Jake, and Jake's powers of persuasion were strong.

"Just lay back," he whispered to Keith, straddling him, fondling his big dick, expertly guiding it into his ass, lowering and raising himself, clenching and unclenching, in a slow rhythm, then faster, fingers encircling Keith's enormous belly, then leaning forward as far as he could, kissing Keith passionately with his mouth whilst fucking his cock with his ass, completely in control, loving every moment of it, seeing his lover's great belly heaving up and down, perspiration leaking from his skin, breath panting from his mouth, until, with exquisite skill, he brought both himself and Keith to climax, and they collapsed in a heap. Everybody was impressed. Even Xander congratulated them both afterwards, saying he was sure Bobby would recover his cool once he saw how hot the footage they filmed was.

But Jake did not want to hang around to listen to all the gushing praise which everyone wanted to shower on him; now, this business all done, he wanted to be with Keith alone. Jake sensed this moment had been coming for some while, and he wished it had happened earlier, but he knew he could not rush it, that this was something Keith needed to work through himself, in his own time and his own way.

"Keith, I know this is hard for you, but this had to happen. That guy has taken advantage of you so much, financially, emotionally, everything. But it's okay now. It's you and me together, you and me against the world. From now on, we do things our own way, me and you."

And with that, Jake started the car and they drove off, never to return to Sunny Hill Adult Studios again.

#gainer fiction #gainer stories #gainer story #gay gainer #male weight gain

[jorality]

I finally saw the Barbie movie and while it touched on so many subjects that I'm always down to discuss. I will say that it brought up an opinion of mine that I've never voiced to other people for fear of retaliation. So I'll just pose it as a question to all those who played with Barbie, Bratz or any other fashion dolls.

Did these dolls ever make you feel bad about yourself?

For years I've heard Barbie get blamed for body image issues and forcing a beauty standard on women, and I just don't agree with that sentiment.

I was the ugly fat girl growing up. I'm the prettyish fat woman now, and of course I had body image issues, but you know who made me feel horrible about it most?

Adults, other kids, my parents, musicians, magazines, TV, Dr. Oz probably.

There was a teacher in elementary school who constantly harassed and made fun of me for my weight saying things like "stop running, you'll cause an earthquake" among other actions that I realize now were hella inappropriate but it was all fun and jokes so who cared? It was so normal that I never really brought it up to my parents because this teacher picked on almost everyone. I was just another unwitting victim.

Something I hate to admit is that when boys would make fun of me it really fucking affected me. I still suffer with getting validation on whether or not I'm even attractive after so many years of trying to love myself. I want to get male validation and I fucking HATE it.

Which brings me to the Video Vixens. The hot Black girls with fat asses and little waists that my Black little girl self was told was the preferred version of a woman.

Until recently I never had a song sung about my body type, and the ones that did exist were icky.

Then there's the whole thing where I want to be in the entertainment industry and I CANNOT go on that rant right now, but let me just say, GOD FUCKING DAMMIT I HATE THE ENTERTAINMENT INDUSTRY!

And before you ask, I once wanted to be on Broadway, children's programming and voice acting. For medical reasons I have set myself up for voice acting, but back when I was a stage actor??? Ugh!

But I'm spiraling, so let's move on.

What i'm trying to say is that I was never given the impression that I was SUPPOSED to LOOK like Barbie or any other fashion doll. At most I really wanted to dress like them, but back then clothes for fat kids were ugly as fuck! Which again I never really connected back to the dolls.

I'm an only child, dolls were my only friends sometimes, so instead of wondering why I didn't look like Barbie or Sasha I put those beasts in situations!

I get the psychology behind toys and self esteem, I've seen the lectures. I just want to know if I'm an anomaly when it comes to believing a toy truly has so much bearing on self esteem and body image to the point that there have been think pieces published about it.

#barbie #bratz #dolls #the barbie movie #body image #self love

[crazyunsexycool]

Hi Val 🥰!

Alright I have several questions about several of your your WIPS so I will keep it short..

Lights,Camera, Action.. are we talking regular asshole ransom or is he whipped/a major fan of Actress! Reader?

What happens in Vegas.. literally tell me anything I am already obsessed with the idea of straight laced Steve going to Vegas..

Sweet Lo!!!

Ok so Lights, Camera, Action is going to be a series. It’s starts with asshole Ransom and he has a reputation to be an asshole and a playboy on set. He sleeps with all of the leading ladies he stars with and most of the time they expect more from him. But we know he doesn’t do relationships. Enter reader. She’s plus sized and she’s determined to show the industry that the size of your waist doesn’t determine your acting abilities. She’s sick of being type cast as the designated ugly fat friend or the comedic relief. She gets casted in the roll of a lifetime. Ransom is brought in last minute when the original actor had to drop out! He isn’t ready for her though and she’s prepared to shut him down when needed!

Snippet:

“Yeah, you got a problem with that?”

You turn around to find the one and only Ransom Drysdale glaring at you. “Not at all, I just thought Johnny Storm was the lead is all.”

“Not anymore.” he says as he sits and you take a moment to really admire him. Ransom Drysdale is ridiculously handsome and you would be lying if you said that you never had a crush on him, everyone did. But as you started working in show business you heard that he was incredibly rude and could be difficult to work with and that was a bit of a turn off for you.

“If you don’t like it I’m pretty sure they could recast your part, sweetheart.” he smirks.

“No way in hell are they recasting me, although if you are as difficult to work with as I’ve heard maybe they’ll recast your part. They’ve already done it once, I'm sure they can do it again, sunshine.” You smile the moment he turns to glare at you. In that moment you decided that if he was going to be an ass you would push back.

2 What happens in Vegas:

It was supposed to be an over night stop after a mission. It was Ton’s idea of course, he paid for the hotel rooms. Bucky and Thor were also there and Steve got drunk off of some Asgardian mead Thor brought with him. Reader was there to celebrate her childhood best friend’s bachelorette party. When she wakes up she’s in someone else’s room. Not just anyone’s Captain fucking America’s room. If that wasn’t enough their wake up call is Tony, Bucky and Thor all witnessing Steve the morning after a one night stand… except it’s more than a one night stand. They have matching rings on their left ring fingers. Steve and reader think it will be as easy as getting an annulment but the Avenger’s PR team have a different idea.

Snippet:

You feel the bed shift with weight placed at the end and then shaking, pulling a groan from the man behind you. He grabs the pillow he was using and throws it, you hear an ‘uff’ as it hits whoever was shaking the bed. He slowly removes his arm from around your waist and sits up allowing you to shift and finally look at who you had spent the night with. Your eyes go wide at the realization of who was in bed with you causing you to sit up way too fast. Your eyes meet for the first time, embarrassment etched on your faces. The door slams open making you finally look at the others in the room. Not only had you slept with the one and only Captain America but before you stood Bucky Barnes, Tony Stark and the newest guest Thor. You keep the sheets up under your chin. Before you were able to say anything Thor spoke up, his voice booming.

“What is the hold up? Isn’t he ready to leave yet?” he asked before taking in the scene.

“Get out!” Steve snaps before turning to you. “I am so sorry about this.”

“Steve, it's never good to apologize to a woman while you’re still in bed naked with her.” Tony advises before smirking at both of you.

“Why are you still here? Get out!”

#val answers #you’ve got mail 💌 #wip game #Actor!Ransom Drysdale x plus size!actress!reader #Steve Rogers x reader #my mutes #Lo 🧚‍♀️

[masterwords]

ain't no memory that ever gets old (part 1)

Summary: Sean is late to Haley's funeral & Hotch is arrested for the murder of Foyet.

Warnings: Haley's death, grief, mentions of prior abuse, this is a dark one.

Pairing: Will be Hotch/Morgan at some point probably but starts out no pairing.

Words: 6.8k

**

Sean missed the funeral. Yeah, yeah, he knows. He's a shit brother. But here's the thing.

He'd tried to call in sick.

Even tried to sound sick, and he wasn't a half bad actor. It's just that his boss was an asshole, and maybe he was kind of...sort of...the boy who cried wolf. “You're not fucking sick, Hotchner, the brown bottle flu doesn't work here man.”

“I'm not hungover.” And okay, maybe that was a lie...but it wasn't why he was calling in. He'd worked with worse hangovers plenty of times, in fact he put out some of his best meals with a pounding headache and a sour stomach. Being sick just seemed like the most plausible excuse. He sniffled and stared directly at the dangling light-bulb above his bed until he sneezed. “I think I got what Daisy had...”

Daisy had faked sick a two days ago, so really he was doing her a favor, adding some sort of validation to her story when he knew she was really waiting in line at some scumbag's back alley office to see if she could snag some over priced tickets to Burning Man. Whatever sickness Daisy might get, she would do it at Burning Man and not a minute before. She promised to get him a spot too if he covered for her, but he wasn't going to hold his breath. She hadn't been to work since and was avoiding his texts. Still, she was a perfect scapegoat.

He sneezed again.

“Then take some fucking DayQuil like a man and get your ass to work. I got no one to cook these cops breakfast. Unless you want I should mention a few outstanding bench warrants in your name, huh?”

Sean groaned and agreed to come in, he had no other recourse. He had places to be but one of those places wasn't jail if he could help it. He'd just try to get out early, take advantage of a slow moment. So he wouldn't be there hours before the funeral but he could show up on time...

He wasn't often noble, but this time he thought that the world stacking up against him was just fucking unfair. All he wanted was to go to his fucking brother's ex-wife's funeral, and if that wasn't so damn hard to explain (and such a mouthful anyway) then he would have just been honest. But how do you say “Look, my brother was married to this chick forever and they have a kid together and last week she was murdered by a serial killer who also stabbed him a buncha times in his apartment and I never came home to check on him then so I gotta go now or I'm the world's shittiest brother...”? How do you say that to your boss who wants to turn your ass over to some bacon and egg eating dirt bag in a blue uniform for some unpaid parking tickets?

No. So many things wrong with that. First of all, he was the world's shittiest brother regardless. His showing up would not absolve him of his sins. Hell, he could have shown up at Haley's house in time to save her, maybe even taken the bullet for her, and still earn the title of World's Worst Brother in the grand scheme of things. (His only competition, ironically enough, would be his brother. But Sean knows he's the winner.) He thought about the newspaper clipping his mother sent him in a card with a sad little puppy on the front begging him to call his brother, write to him, go see him. He didn't want to hear from her, but maybe Sean could get through. The puppy stared at him with its huge watery eyes and fat little paws, but her looping cursive turned his stomach and he couldn't do it. A sincere desire for her boys to show care for one another became a heavy expectation and Sean couldn't abide by that. He didn't do expectations, at least not willingly.

Truthfully, he was too afraid of what he'd find if he heard Hotch's voice. Hearing his brother broken, hurting, he'd survived it once and only barely. He didn't think he could do it again. He eventually did send a sympathy card, some brightly colored monstrosity that showcased a teddy bear with bandages all over. He taped a Snoopy band-aid inside and signed his name. Nothing witty or beautiful, just his name.

He never heard back.

So when he dragged himself out of bed and into the shower, he worked it all out. He could get Adam to cover for him, Adam could cook scrambled eggs and toast some bread...it wasn't fucking rocket science. They weren't curing cancer, they were making greasy spoon diner breakfast. He could be on the road in time to show up and help with last minute shit, still consider it a win. Or at least a draw. He had no idea what to do at a funeral, the last one he'd attended was his father's and he was a child...but he'd figure it out. Something inside of him just said it was being there that was important.

Like it was his last chance. That was when he figured he could really shine. Pull out all the stops. The Last Chance Kid, that was Sean.

His nicest clothes smelled like smoke even though he'd washed them twice. People smoked in the laundromat, there wasn't much he could do. Maybe he could borrow something of his brother's or Derek's.

Adam didn't buy the family emergency thing when Sean floated leaving early. Argued that earlier he'd claimed to be sick, and now it was a family thing. “What is it really? You trying to go to that orgy in the desert that Daisy's headed to?”

Sean scowled. “That's not today, asshole. And no, I'm not jonesin' to go listen to shitty music, look at shitty art and get some new kind of syphilis and chlamydia mix. My brother had some really bad shit happen and I gotta go help him out.”

“Brother? Ain't never heard you talk about no brother before...” Adam was drunk. At 10:30am, he was drunk. Sean recognized it now, this was a battle he couldn't win. So he went big. He wasn't above begging.

“Yeah, well, he's an FBI Agent so our lifestyles don't exactly...shit man, just help me out. I'll do anything. Name it.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

Not only did he not get out early, but as he fucked up and dumped his third attempt at a poached egg for one order of Eggs Benedict into the festering trash can, he counted down the hours and knew there was no way he made it to the funeral even on time now. Before he started the next attempt (something he was usually perfect at, it was how he got the job in the first place...best poached egg on the diner scene) he fired off a quick text to Derek letting him know he was stuck at work.

He wasn't going to be able to carry the fucking casket. Asked to be a pallbearer for a woman who had been a real sister to him and he's making poached eggs for guys who would love to see him behind bars. He ended up working three extra hours after that text, covering the lunch rush for the cook who was puking in the alley with his goddamn brown bottle flu. Fucking assholes.

Sean walked out, stormed out really, and told his boss he worked longer than planned. He fucked up his relationship with his brother probably permanently and for what? So, to compensate, he was taking the next three days off out of spite. An attempted power play by a man who couldn't give a shit about the job. And just as expected, his boss told him he could have all the time off he wanted because he didn't need to come back. “We can find someone else to fuck up a dozen eggs, jackass.”

He'd have some damage control to take care of when he got back, but he still used his last twenty bucks to fill up Wilma's tank and hit the road. Wilma, his forever girl, was a cherry red Vincent motorcycle that had belonged to his grandfather. He cared for her better than he'd ever cared for anything in his life. Not a ding or a dent, he rode her well within the posted limits, paid more to keep her garaged off of the street than he did for his own apartment. Wilma would get him to Virginia on his last dime and she would do it purring.

He'd figure out what they were going to do later.

So he showed up after dark. Parked Wilma where he knew he could see her from Hotch's window and sauntered into the building like he owned the place. Pretending, for only his benefit, that he was showing up somehow right as soon as he expected. Except he wasn't. He'd missed the whole fucking funeral. He was supposed to carry the damn casket, they had to find someone else to do it in his place. His brother would play it off, say it was fine, but he knew there was no way he could ever make that up. It was the sort of thing you got one chance at.

Hotch's apartment was dead quiet, and he almost didn't knock, thought maybe he should wait until morning but he knew his brother wouldn't be asleep. Hotch didn't sleep. He paced and he would say he was fine but he was sore or he couldn't turn his head off or his heart off. He simply couldn't shut off.

He used to have a key, but Hotch changed all of his locks after Foyet's intrusion. It was understandable. His key was useless now. But he listened as his brother pulled the chain and clicked the deadbolt...counted three, maybe four different locks. And then his brother's solemn features, cast in shadow, eyes ragged and red from crying or not sleeping. Deep, dark circles cut through his too pale skin. “Sean.”

Not a question, not a greeting, just a flaccid statement. “I'm sorry, Aaron,” he started but Hotch turned his back and limped back into the apartment, headed for the kitchen. He could barely walk, looked like his face and hands had been broken in plenty of places, and he was going to put on some coffee. Figured. Those Southern manners would kill him and he'd die with an apology on his lips for not getting out the good cake for the guests in time.

“I really am sorry. Did Derek tell you what happened? My boss is a fucking asshole...”

“It's alright, Sean.” He didn't want or need Sean's explanation. He'd heard them all before. It wasn't even that he didn't believe them, it was just...well it didn't matter. Didn't need it. End of story.

Sean felt his heart fall right down into his belly. It was heavier than he'd ever imagined it to be. Fuck. “No, it's not. I should have just come. He fucking fired me anyway, little prick.”

“You really don't have to,” Hotch started, placing his palms against the counter and leaning forward, closing his eyes. He'd had a headache all day and it wasn't any better now that his brother was here. “It's okay.” What he meant was that it was done. It wasn't okay, but it couldn't be changed now.

Sean could read between those lines. Maybe he hadn't wanted him there in the first place. Maybe he was glad Sean hadn't come because what if he'd shown up drunk or high, and then he'd had to explain that. Or he thought Sean was just lying again.

They sat in silence over coffee at the dining room table. Hotch looked haunted, he wasn't there half the time. It was just this vacant stare and Derek had warned him, told him Hotch had a really bad concussion, the fight with Foyet had been violent and really Hotch was lucky to walk away from it at all. He couldn't imagine that being true, not his big brother. Sean tried to fill the silence, keeping his voice quiet so he wouldn't wake Jack.

“How's the kid?”

“Why did you come?” Hotch asked bluntly, blinking himself back to reality. He either didn't hear Sean or was ignoring his question, either way Sean couldn't help bristling a little. “You missed the funeral. Why did you bother at all?”

Sean was six when Hotch was sent to boarding school. Six when he went from being the baby to being the only. Six when he was thrust into the knowledge that his family wasn't what it seemed. That, he blamed Hotch for. Hotch had gone to great lengths to protect Sean from it...he would wake him in the morning, make him breakfast, walk him into town for school early. Before the bells rang. They would go to the library, or get a donut, play catch...Hotch just said he wanted to spend a little extra time with his brother, but Sean found out the hard way that it wasn't exactly true. When Hotch was sent to boarding school, Sean became the sounding board. Not a lot of fists, but a lot of nasty words. “Just like your worthless brother,” his father would scowl and Sean couldn't understand what he meant. He didn't have a worthless brother.

“Sean?”

“I'm sorry. I guess I thought you might still want me to be here...help you out...”

“Help with what, exactly? Are you an expert at something I wasn't aware of? Parenting? Grief counseling?”

Sean was seven when he found out his father was sick and dying. Seven when Hotch came home for the summer and the whole family learned the truth. About the cancer, about the infidelity. He was seven when he first saw his brother smoking out behind the shed. Smoking and crying. Trembling hands and scattered butts at his feet. Seven when his brother's stutter came back. He never even knew it had existed before, years of speech therapy had all but torn it out of him until the stress of their father getting sick brought it all back. A father he hated and still couldn't come to terms with losing.

“I'm sort of an expert on you,” Sean offered vaguely. Hotch laughed. It was joyless, and he reached up to swipe at the burn of tears that he couldn't seem to stop. Sean didn't let that deter him. “I know you're standing here pretending to be some macho caveman who doesn't cry for my benefit. Like you always have. But you don't know how many times I've seen you cry, Aaron. You cry more than anyone I've ever known.”

“What are you saying?”

“I'm saying you might fool everyone else with this act of yours, this ice cold frowny face you put on but you don't fool me. I spent all the best years of my childhood following you around, trying to be just like you. Look what it got me.” It was a low blow, he knew it, but sometimes he just couldn't help it. Most people who met Hotch were too afraid to tell him what they really thought, he could be intimidating and cruel looking. Sean knew better.

Sean was eight when Hotch ran himself a hot bath and took a razor blade to his wrists. Eight when he saw the fogged up mirror and the blood pooling on the floor where Hotch's hand hand fallen limp, dangling over the edge of the tub. He screamed so loud he could still feel it vibrating in his bones today. And he was eight when Haley and his mother rushed Hotch to the hospital and Jessica stayed with him. They said the marks were hesitant, that he didn't really want to die, and locked him up for the second time. There was hope...but under their breath Sean heard the doctor say he might not survive a third attempt. To his knowledge, his brother never made that third attempt.

Looking at him now, he wasn't sure it was off the table yet.

Sean cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting in his seat. Hotch stared down into his untouched coffee like he might fall in. “How's Jessica doing?”

“She...” A tear fell directly into his cup. Plop, it hit the surface and sent tiny fractal rings away from its salty core. “She'll be here in the morning. I have some things to take care of.”

“Of course she will. Always bailing you out.” He meant it as a joke, at least he thought he did. It was sort of his thing, joking about the way Jessica was about him. About how she was always there cleaning up his messes. Jessica, his shadow. Maybe there was a ring of truth to it. Hotch didn't seem to find it funny.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

Sean leaned forward and tried to drag Hotch's attention to him. To lock eyes, touch the depth of his thoughts and sadness. “Nothing. You need help tomorrow?”

“No, thank you,” Hotch whispered back. They sat in silence over the steaming coffee while Hotch gathered himself back up, swiped at the few escaped tears and pretended they never happened. Sean didn't push any harder. He knew the limits, he'd spent years carefully calculating exactly how far he could push before he went too far. It was easy now.

“Is Derek helping you?” Derek, the only person from his team that Sean knew to mention. The only one he'd met, years and years ago, a lifetime maybe. It seemed like a fair guess, made him feel like he knew more than he did. Hotch didn't get upset or mock his attempt, he only shook his head sadly and stared down at his tear riddled coffee sadly.

“They have a case.”

“So...whatever this is...you're doing it alone?”

Hotch only stared at him and for the first time Sean really took it all in. How thin he was, how pale and drawn his face was, the deep bruises beneath his eyes. “Look, I'm sorry I missed Haley's funeral. I really am,” he said, putting one hand on top of his brother's. “I loved her. She was my sister. You know she still sent me birthday and Christmas cards? Even after she left. So did Jess. I'd like to see her.”

Sean waited, and Hotch remained silent. He wasn't exactly trying to pull himself together, but he wasn't offering anything else either. His headache was preventing much thought, nothing seemed to want to connect, and none of Sean's words really made any sense. Insomnia, concussion, grief, anxiety...he couldn't separate them anymore. They were him and he was them. “Where can I smoke around here?”

“There's a courtyard,” Hotch whispered, sniffling. He reached into the pocket of his sweatpants and pulled out a little white handkerchief, rubbing his nose with it. So careful to keep his thumb over the stitched initials. “I'll show you.”

He walked Sean out the back door and gave him the code, telling him he couldn't stay outside with him because Jack was asleep. He couldn't leave him alone, but he handed him a key and walked away without looking at him. No eye contact. Just sadness. So he started in the courtyard, lighting up one cigarette and then wandering until he was sitting on Wilma's seat and staring up into the sky. He was out there nearly an hour considering what the hell he was even doing. Here with his brother, with his life, he had no idea. No job, no money, he found someone who would sublet his place so maybe he'd stick around in Virginia for a while. Nothing tethering him, he was floating on the wind again.

Hotch was in bed by the time Sean came back inside. The lights were out, but there was a pillow and some blankets on the couch waiting for him. Good enough, at least he could stay. He passed out fast and easy, still in his clothes.

Hotch got up in the middle of the night. Sean remembered that, albeit a little sluggishly. He wasn't sure his brother had ever slept a full night in his life that wasn't drugged and forced. He did his best not to wake Sean, had honestly forgotten he was even there until he was about to lay on the couch and found a body there. He sat himself in the chair, doubled over in pain, his stomach was killing him. Phantom pains, memories like flames trickling over his skin. Each scar seared, screamed to life like Foyet was driving the knife in molten hot. Not real, he knew. None of the pain was real, he was just...sometimes the nightmares just felt too real. Sometimes he woke and still smelled the stink of Foyet's breath, his sweat, his skin. He couldn't scrub his body clean hard enough.

“Aaron?” Sean rasped, half asleep. His mouth was parched and he knew it came out slow and fuzzy sounding. “That you?”

“Go back to sleep. I'm sorry I woke you.”

Sean sat up. Like a starving zombie, he pulled himself upright with drool dried on his cheek and his hair standing up in unruly blonde spikes. He smacked his dry lips and tried to give them some life. Water, he needed water, so he stumbled to the kitchen and filled two glasses. Manners. Handing one to his brother, he sat back down and opened his throat like he was going to chug a beer. The whole glass went down in one gulp. Hotch had only set his to his lips, sipped enough to wet his tongue and nothing more. He thought for sure he was going to be sick.

“You still don't sleep.”

Hotch had nothing to say to that. He hugged his arms tight against his midsection and willed the pain to ease up. Just a little.

“Wanna watch a movie?”

“No.”

Sean laughed and fumbled around for the remote anyway. The moment the television was clicked to life, he knew his brother would relax or go back to bed. Either way, no awkward attempt at conversation.

He moved painfully slow to the couch, barely standing, still hunched over and Sean shared his blanket. There were plenty of fun action movies on, but he wasn't after watching a movie...this had always been Hotch's trick, and now was his chance to throw it back into his brother's face. Find the most dull, boring excuse for cinema available and turn it on nice and low. Humming quiet. Tonight he chose Jeremiah Johnson, a personal favorite but so slow and so quiet that Hotch was asleep with his head tipped back against the cushions within the first fifteen minutes. They were pressed against each other, and Sean waited until he thought they were all clear before tipping his brother to the side and covering him up. They were too long to share the couch, so Sean took the floor. “Never say I didn't do anything for you...” he whispered, curling up on his side on the rug and using his jacket for a pillow. He could have gone and taken Hotch's bed, or the guest room, but something nagged at him and told him to stay close.

Waking didn't bring any epiphanies, didn't bring any magical enlightenment, it only brought a throbbing headache and confusion. Hotch didn't remember falling asleep on the couch. In a fog, he slid his legs over the side and kicked something on the floor. His eyes wouldn't focus, he could only vaguely make out the shape of his brother there and memory washed over him slowly.

Not just the night before. For a few blissful moments, he'd forgotten all of it. It was all white washed and shiny. And then slowly the darkness began creeping back in until it engulfed him.

Foyet was dead and gone, so everyone kept reminding him. A reality he had to reacquaint himself with each and every morning since it happened. A silly thing, too, because he knew that part. He knew the who, the what, the where, the when, even the why...he just didn't seem to have a firm grasp on the how. Professor Plum in the parlor with a candlestick? Agent Hotchner over Foyet's body with his fists.

So they said. And had the busted up hands that made it hard to argue except he just...had no memory of it.

Hotch wasn't an idiot. He knew Foyet wouldn't be back. He'd never believed in ghosts, and maybe if someone had just told him in a roundabout way that Foyet was dead he might have some doubts...the man had ways. But he'd seen to it himself.

Maybe it had been Derek to slide his finger up under what was presumably Foyet's jaw, what was left of it anyway, and maybe it was him to confirm that no more blood pulsed through his veins. But Hotch's hands and his fury had done all there was to do.

He knew that. Derek and Dave and Emily, they all saw him. And they wouldn't lie to him.

But he had no memory of it. His doctor had said adrenaline would account for much of it, everything went black the moment he saw Haley there. She was a body, no soul, and he'd gone black. Everything between seeing her and the weight of Derek's arms tight around him was an empty void. “It's better that way,” Spencer had whispered to Derek while they finished up in the house. “You saw Foyet's body. It's better that he doesn't remember.”

“Better for who? The Bureau wants to crucify him for the bad press...” JJ interjected, pushing them into a hallway away from the sights of peeping journalists who already knew too much. “We've got to get something out of him.”

They'd tried a cognitive interview. He didn't want to, but the Bureau wanted to know, they needed their facts. They'd already made up their minds, though. JJ could read it on their faces...tired of the rogue BAU team, willing to send him to the firing squad to make everything else go away.

When given the choice of everyone on the team, he asked JJ to do the cognitive. Everyone had expected Dave or Derek, given their years of history, or Emily who had seen his apartment at its worst right after Foyet and already gone through his personal things. Spencer knew it wouldn't be him, and JJ..well, she wasn't even a profiler. Thought she was safe.

JJ was safe. For him. He looked at her, sitting across from him in the conference room, and she gave him those eyes and that smile and he felt safe with her. There wasn't anything to hide, he knew that.

But his mind hid it anyway. “Tell me what you saw, what you smelled, what you felt...” she said and his mind couldn't help flashing on a day that felt like yesterday and ancient history all wrapped up in one. A day when she'd been brand new, and no she wasn't a Field Agent but Hotch had a vision for his team and in that vision they could all pick up the slack for everyone. Each of them would have their specialty, but each of them could back the other up. Others called him crazy for training a Communications Liaison to do cognitive interviews, but he knew better.

“Hotch? What do you see?”

He smiled. “Sorry, I was just thinking about the day I taught you how to do this...”

She couldn't help it, she felt her eyes fill with tears as she pictured the day fresh as summer sun. “I remember.” Strauss had pitched a fit, asked him what reason he could posibly have for training her to do this. But he'd been so gentle. Let her do her first on him. She picked the day Jack was born, had him go through the whole thing. Later, as she was giving birth to Henry, she would reflect on what he'd told her. “Can you tell me what you saw when you walked into your...Haley's...house?”

His smile vanished, and his eyelids twitched while his mind fought against the memory. “Nothing. Everything in its place. The door was unlocked. Haley had redecorated...I didn't...” he paused, frowning. “I didn't recognize the couch. The walls were a different color.”

“Okay, good. Haley had redecorated her house...where did you go?”

He swallowed a lump in his throat. “I went to the kitchen, because I knew...I knew no matter what she changed, she would keep an emergency flashlight in a drawer. I had this list in my office, a checklist of emergency items to keep stocked and where to have them...Haley always likes to be prepared, she wanted to be safe when I wasn't home.”

“Good,” she whispered, swiping at a tear. She wasn't sure she could go through with this. Everything from this moment forward was wrong and she knew it. The flashlight was easy, the checklist was sweet. There would be nothing good after that moment. “What did you do once you had the flashlight?”

“I cleared rooms. One by one. The house was so quiet...”

“What were you thinking?”

“I was trying not to breathe too loud. I didn't want...I didn't know...I thought I should be able to hear Jack or...” His breath was coming in shaky, drawn in great ragged bursts through splintered ribs. “I saw the blood at the...I saw it going up the stairs...”

“Could you smell anything? Was it still silent?”

“I smelled the blood. And the other...” he let out a dragging cough, like he was there now. Like he was going to be sick. “I can smell her. And I thought maybe Foyet was bluffing on the phone, until I smelled it. She's dead, I know it, I know that smell. It happens every time. No one warns you about that smell. I knew it was coming from her. Foyet can fake many things, but not that.”

She felt her gag reflex screaming and clawing at the back of her throat. That smell, that brown and rotten smell of the muscles dying and going limp, everything evacuating that had once been life. That he had to associate that with Haley now and forever...she thought she might be sick. Almost hated him for choosing her to do this, out of any of them. Derek had a strong stomach, Emily barely knew Haley, Rossi...god anyone but her. She and Haley had play dates with Jack and Henry. Babies. She called Haley in the middle of the night when she couldn't get Henry to sleep no matter what she tried. Haley passed all of Jack's old baby clothes and toys on to her, gave her solid advice, was a friend. But he picked her. She sucked in a deep breath and swallowed her sick.

“And then you saw her...”

“She was lying on the floor. She only had one shoe on. Her eyes were open...”

This was it. Was she going to get what she needed? They were hovering on the edge of his memory.

“Did you go to her?”

“I don't....no, I don't...” His eyes shot open, terror stricken and shining with tears. “I don't know. I don't know what I did. I'm sorry JJ. I was there, I was right there, staring at her, smelling her...and then everything is just black.”

“Okay, it's okay Hotch. You're doing great. Can we try one more time? Go right back there to when you saw her.”

He nodded, he was willing but he looked so scared and she went from hating him to herself in an instant. This was monstrous, she was a monster. “Whatever you need.”

“Okay. You're looking at Haley. Her eyes are open, where are they looking?”

“She's looking straight at me. I can see the blood on the floor, on her neck, it's soaking her shirt. It's so much blood.”

“And her shoe, where is her other shoe?”

“Her toenails are black. She's painted them. I've never seen her use that color before, it looks nice.”

“And her shoe?”

“There's blood on her foot. I don't...it's...I don't see it. I'm trying not to cry because I can't see...I'm sweating...I see other shoes, beneath a curtain..my heart, it feels like it's going to explode, it hurts, I can't breathe...JJ I can't breathe...”

He was hyperventilating. She'd heard Emily talk about people doing that in interviews, like they were right there experiencing it all and she hadn't believed her. Sounded ridiculous. “We're not hypnotists,” she'd criticized, but she owed Emily an apology she supposed. She was beside him in a flash, her hand on the back of his neck, her face so close to him. “Open your eyes Hotch, it's okay. We'll try again later.” His chest shuddered beneath her touch and for a minute she thought he was going to cry, really really cry, but he didn't. He let out one enormous sob, the kind that looks like it hurts, and then it was gone. He was staring at his hands again.

“Maybe someone else might...”

“No.”

And that was it, that was all they did. He wouldn't talk to anyone else, but she filled out her report the best she could and returned it to Strauss, leaving out the bit about Haley's toenails. She'd let Hotch keep that one for himself. It was the only moment that seemed to offer him even the slightest reprieve from the hell he was wading through.

After the cognitive failed to give them what they were looking for, Strauss was forced to launch a full-scale investigation into what happened. Not just Hotch under scrutiny but the actions of the entire team. He'd never felt like such an utter failure, such a monster, in his life. This was his problem, this was his responsibility and his loss...not theirs. Strauss didn't see it that way, and he knew it was less that than the higher ups looking at him through the magnifying glass of her eyes.

She'd never liked him. That much was a given. And for the most part, the feeling was mutual, but even he knew there were strings being pulled here. She was the AD's marionette, dancing for him to keep her own job secure. If he was a problem, they could just push him out. But if the whole team was found guilty of abusing their power? That would fall on her, too. She'd find herself packing her office into boxes.

She wouldn't go down for him. That much he knew. And to be totally fair, he wouldn't for her either.

So he took it on the chin and answered her questions. He didn't bother advising the team what to say, how to handle it, they could be honest. He hoped they would be, didn't want them in trouble on his account.

They hadn't done anything wrong. He had. And maybe the committed would find him to be justified...Foyet was trespassing on his property, the house was still in his name, he paid the property taxes and the mortgage. Foyet had murdered Haley in his home and he intended to harm Jack...there were justifications but at the end of the day, two bodies were cold in that house and only one was life was ended by Foyet's hand.

The other was his. With hands that were so bruised and cut up that he couldn't hold a glass of water for any length of time, couldn't flex his fingers around a knife or a spatula to make Jack dinner, couldn't turn a doorknob without multiple attempts. Sean staying with them since the day of the funeral had at least been good for something. He could use a damn can opener and cut the carrots and onions. He could unlock the door and he hadn't dropped the carton of milk all over the floor.

“Get those looked at,” Jessica told him when he tried to grip the fridge door handle. He gritted his teeth, set his jaw, and clasped his hand tight around the handle, pulling it open. Proving her wrong. Sean had rolled his eyes and made a comment about how wrong she was. “See? He can do it himself.”

She glowered at them both, neither liking the refusal to accept reality nor the latent sarcasm. Instead she pushed him out of the way and nabbed a few ice packs from the freezer. “Sit.” That was it. He didn't even grab the milk from the fridge, he was just going to pour some for Jack to go with the meal Jessica was preparing...trying to help out...but he found himself listening to her anyway. Sitting at the table with his hands splayed out before him, an ice pack set gingerly on each. “Fifteen minutes. Do not move.”

She made Sean do the rest.

“Have they come to a conclusion yet?” Dave asked, handing Hotch a glass of scotch. The team had just returned from a case, and he was beat, but he had to see Hotch. In fact each of them, in their own way, had hinted that they might but only Dave actually did.

Derek had a full night of paperwork to finish, and everyone else...well they had their reasons. He would never blame them for a single one. “No, Strauss says they had a few other people they wanted to talk to.”

“They were waiting for us to get back. That's a bad sign.”

“For whom?” He knew, though. Hotch wasn't an idiot. His head was on the chopping block.

Dave leveled his glare. “One of us goes down, we all go down. We're a team.”

Hotch shook his head, setting the full glass of amber liquid down on the table and flexing his sore hand. “No, Dave. Not this time. This was my failure, this was my mistake and if someone other than Haley has to pay for it...”

He didn't need to worry in the end. Strauss managed to find Derek in his office pouring over the case details with a cup of coffee beside him in a mug that read in big bold letters COFFEE MAKES ME POOP thanks to Spencer's wry sense of humor. It was already half empty and there was another brewing in the pot down the hall. “Agent Morgan...a word?”

She shut the door behind her ominously, and Derek sighed. He was absolutely not in the mood for her shit tonight. Or any night, really, but especially not this one. There was no one else in the damn building, why did she need to shut them in like that? No good reason, that was for sure.

“We need to talk.”

He leaned back in his chair and stared at her in silence, waiting for her to continue. He wouldn't say a word. Whatever she was here for, it wasn't going to require his input.

“The committee has just come to a decision.”

“At midnight?”

“It was a serious matter, and they have been working around the clock. Agent Morgan, they are recommending Agent Hotchner's arrest. His cognitive interview is disturbing, and while I advocated that he has always been forthcoming with information even when it would damn him, that he is rarely self-serving...they weren't convinced. They insist that you make the arrest with a member of local law enforcement.”

Derek wasn't sure he was breathing anymore. His fingers were numb. “Me?”

“You are the acting Unit Chief, this is your department. What happened in that house is your responsibility...”

“Then you arrest ME,” he growled through gritted teeth. “If it's my fault, go ahead and mirandize me right now.”

He knew it was really fucking dramatic, but he shoved his hands toward her anyway. Balled into fists, ready to be cuffed. He was the only one in the room who carried cuffs, he knew damn well, but it felt good to watch the startled look cross her face for just a moment.

“Put your hands down, Derek. That isn't how this works. Get in touch with the police and find someone to accompany you, they can make the arrest under your supervision if it's too...personal...for you. I won't be a stickler for whose name is on that paperwork.”

She almost looked emotional, like she as doing him a favor letting him stand back and let Hotch be manhandled by someone else. He nearly thought he saw tears in her eyes...but he also didn't care. “I'm not finished with this, Agent Morgan. I won't let them make him into a monster but this may take time.”

Derek stood. No matter how emotional she seemed, he was furious. Her bright eyes did nothing to abate his anger. Unable to be calmed by her empty promises, no matter how she believed them to be brimming with life. Full. She would get him exonerated and have his name cleared. He wouldn't stand trial for putting down a known serial killer in his own home...they just had to buy some time.

“They can only hold him for up to 72 hours without charging him,” she said quietly, as if it would help. He understood what she meant, they had 72 hours from the time he was booked to find a way to convince them not to proceed. Foyet had no living family, no one to charge on his behalf. They had bigger fish to fry.

“Yeah,” Derek scoffed in return. “You know, I've done some really fucked up things for the Bureau in my life...”

She closed her eyes and willed the tight sting of emotion out of her chest. “Agreed. Goodnight, Agent.”

He snarled. Goodnight. Yeah, for you, he thought. You get to go home and sleep. I get to grab a police officer and head to Hotch's house and destroy a whole family already on the brink.

#aaron hotchner #sean hotchner #derek morgan #jessica brooks #jennifer jareau #erin strauss #criminal minds #fanfiction

[sketchy-scribs-n-doods]

ughh ty for ur amazing tags it was so disgusting how they were 1. telling on themselves claiming poc and fat people aren't attractive and 2. wishing racism and body shaming on an actor in the name of justice(??). not that im surprised anyway their crowd was the one that demonized lucas and ignored caleb for years. one of my favorite characters is patrick and he wasn't allowed even a nightmare sequence he was just forgotten by the narrative and brushed off. a Black victim of abuse not even given a voice, just forcibly suppressed and used to move the plot along to fuel jason's satanic bullshit. he is ignored by the large majority of the fandom that focuses all their attention on white boy of the week but think hating billy is enough to compensate for their favouritism and racism. i hate how poc are treated in this show but its not enough for ppl to just direct all their performative criticism on a character they want actual racist harassment directed at them too. so disgusting.

i don't normally beef on the internet (i much prefer throwing hands irl actually, but ppl seem to enjoy hiding their shit behind a screen lol), but i really did such a hard double take at those tags.

i really can't fathom tearing down another character because your fav gets shit. i fully understand that characters like lucas and argyle don't get a lot of attention and that's likely a combination of a) the duffer's own bias sidelining those characters, and b) fans' bias in ignoring poc. that doesn't mean i'm gonna throw hands with your average eddie or steve stan or whatever, i don't find that productive. i'd rather engage with fans that already enjoy my fav or are open to consuming content about them and encourage (in this long winded example) eddie stans to enjoy argyle content without making them feel guilty about their blorbo.

same goes for every time i see someone thinking that if they kick down billy it will elevate nancy or lucas or max or eddie or steve. it's petty, it doesn't work, and the only things that result from it are a) an echo chambers where all your fellow salty mutuals will yes man you, or b) ppl who like what you just talked shit about are gonna roll up asking what your damage is. lo and behold.

even putting all of the dumb nancy vs billy nonsense aside (and for the record i think the duffers badly wrote both characters in different ways), those fucking tags were just. SUCH an accidental slip reveal of what that person really thinks. i don't think they're a horrible person or whatever but they're definitely a dick and think that as long as they hate the right character they're correct and good.

like you said, wishing bigotry on a person/character just because you don't like them is a weird fucking thing to say. at that point i barely care what the context of the post was. can you imagine saying that out loud in a room full of fat ppl/poc? i don't think any of them are gonna come to the conclusion that you mean it as a roundabouts insult against a popular hot white actor/character and go 'oh yes haha you're so right i totally think fans hating him for being brown/fat is preferable'. i personally would have torn down whoever said that shit to me irl, that's some white ass performative activism i don't have time for, but it seems like ppl don't think about how the shit they say would sound out loud irl to the very ppl they seem to be trying to support

nevermind that any given piece of billy fanfiction and an awful lot of fanart explores the trauma billy has gone through more than it goes 'ah yes blonde boy hot'. we can have tho conversations without being pricks saying shit in bad faith about it. like, most billy fans i see are huge fans of patrick and mourn his lost potential. because we know how the duffers treat their abused characters.

this shit isn't a contest, but often the shit you say about a character affects ppl who are similar to/identity with that character. if in your pursuit to hate and spit about a character, you say shitty things that make poc, fat ppl, abuse victims, etc., feel like you're insulting them or just using them as props for your wokeness, then you need to take a step back and ask yourself if maybe you needa chill and reevaluate what you're doing. it's not a good look, and neither is the mindset that revenge and punitive 'justice' should be prioritized above healing, growth, and connection.

(like c'mon we can redeem fictional war criminals but we can't let an 18 year old being abused by his dad work through his racial biases? like the latter isn't a much more common situation that happens irl to real abused teens with bigoted parents? alright)

anyway, i'm glad you appreciated my tag rambles, i really was just word vomiting in a fury lol

if you love patrick and enjoy the idea of patrick and billy interacting, i have a # patrick mcckinley tag and a # kingr*ve tag for each respectively (i lump all my patrick and billy stuff under their ship whether platonic or romantic bc patrick stuff is scarce enough as it is). cheers!

#billy hargrove #apologies for the wank but oof today was a doozy #poc fans of billy once again and holding your hands in mine #srry if this is a bit of a late reply anon i had class #ask sketchy

[angelcactus]

I posted 541 times in 2022

That's 541 more posts than 2021!

326 posts created (60%)

215 posts reblogged (40%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@itsdaifuku

@0o-starboy-o0

@verrverii

@annahhopee

@darlin-collins

I tagged 388 of my posts in 2022

Only 28% of my posts had no tags

#redacted asmr - 314 posts

#redacted audio - 265 posts

#redacted david - 99 posts

#redactedasmr - 78 posts

#redacted angel - 77 posts

#redacted darlin - 46 posts

#redacted anons &lt;3 - 45 posts

#redacted sweetheart - 42 posts

#redacted sam - 40 posts

#redacted asher - 39 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#i get to go to my grandparents house and listen to them talk about how fat ive gotten and how much they hate gay people and minorities:)))

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

THE PACK DOING PULL UPS OR SIT UPS AND THEIR MATES GIVING THEM A KISS FOR EVERY REP

463 notes - Posted September 23, 2022

#4

Redacted actor aus are so fun so here's my rendition. :}

Every couple is real, for example Milo and sweetheart, Damien and huxley, Elliott and sunshine

Vega and Caelum are brothers and vega is actually Australian, caelum isnt.

Ivan has told interviewers that after filming possessed Ivan he cried as he felt awful for being mean to his listener (oh yeah both of his listeners are his partners)

Marie is Milos actual mom and she comes on set sometimes and brings food, shits good as fuck

In every interview with the freelancer series, shaw pack and solaire clan when asked what was the hardest thing to film was everyone responded with the inversion

Huxley is actually very smart, it scares damien sometimes

Lasko is the quietest person on set which is strange considering his character has almost if not more lines than gavin

Sweetheart will just start dancing in the middle of filming when the camera isn't on them, it makes Milo laugh everytime so they have to refilm it

Aggro is Milos real cat, his real name is Pudding Cup. He's fun to film with but he's stubborn and just does what he wants

In the episode where David and Angel meet you can see caelum in the background as a small Easter egg

Geordi's episodes take the longest to edit considering he has to act then record his lines from his head

The only person who got truely hurt during the inversion was lovely on accident. An actor who was playing a shade knocked them down too quickly and the wind was knocked out of their chest and they had to stop filming for a moment so they could catch their breath

The startrek quotes Asher claims to spew out aren't scripted, those are real quotes he says

I can't think of anymore and I had so many oh no

499 notes - Posted October 4, 2022

#3

Angel is the type of drunk person to refuse kisses from David bc and I quote "my boyfriend can kick your ass don't kiss me please" and David is just sitting there like "...I'm your boyfriend????"

595 notes - Posted September 30, 2022

#2

Angel loosing their voice and David pretending it's the best thing ever. Finally they stopped talking. But in reality he practically babies them, he gets them tea, blankets, endures Minecraft for once. Once they get their voice back and start talking again he practically cries. He missed their voice so much it hurt.

694 notes - Posted September 6, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

After finding out that David mains Bowser I contribute this

It's them

824 notes - Posted September 13, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

[duncemonkeydunce]

Mechanical monsters

Unwittingly hyper-normalized fools! I do not disagree that I'm not one of you cretinous crowd. Alas, we're all cretinous. The smarter one - they tend to go consume the world or themselves. There's such limited balance really, no equilibrium between knowing and existing.

I have a very tired feeling of being...tired. I'm not sure if it's because I have carried my cross far too long, even though the cross barely weighs anything. It's a psychosomatic cross really. Or it's just the conversational landscape of pointing greasy, stubby fingers at the horrible even if it doesn't affect the owner of those smudgy digits.

A blight on own self, you lot are! Fat, gluttonous, holier-than-thou imbeciles. Shitting out further versions of yourself to repeat the cycle all over again. I am called to be part of this hopelessly mechanistic endeavour, by family, by society, heck even by cultural fragments of the idea embedded in everything I consume, be it man-made or just in nature. I have surrounded myself with too many actors speaking lines written with a feather made of ass hair and ink of diarrhoea. Shove it, you ungodly regurgitated phlegm!

You have made me tired and jaded with your godforsaken ideas. I have made myself tired and jaded slurping up so many ounces of pure excrement, engaging with the scum of existence.

It hurts me to know I have gone so far down the rabbit asshole, I'm about to be spit with a mixture of other faecal matter combined with bile and other repugnant, putrid, astringent contents of one's body, the temple of god.

Shove it.