#he’s the most attractive muppet

[robfozdarling]

I draw Fozzie a lot so here’s a ref sheet of my version of him

In case you couldn’t tell, I love Fozzie to death

[mercipourlevenim]

i am never getting over jemaine in the muppets movie ok

[puck-luck]

code-breaker | jack hughes

warnings: pining!, unprotected p in v, lots of miscommunication but it is resolved duh, lmao uhhhhh jack fucking his best friend's sister maybe? kind of a big plot point fasho, a lame excuse for a squirt, cum on da body (chest), eating come, lots of banter, tiny TINY bit of angst and insecurity on fem!reader's part pairing: jack hughes x zegras!reader request: cappy's "sister of the best friend, lake house, etc. sister makes the first move and the guy tries to turn her down out of loyalty to the other boy and she gets a little hurt and insecure thinking he's rejecting her and she's like "am i really that bad?" with her voice craking and he's like fuck then... smut!" wc: 4327

Jack is here. 

Jack, who you’ve been in love with since your twin brother started hanging out with him when they were in NTDP together. Jack, the New Jersey Devils’ prized star, the number one pick. Jack, the most annoying and most attractive brother of the esteemed Hughes family from Michigan. Yes, that Jack is here– ‘here’ being your apartment that you share with your brother in Anaheim now that Jamie has moved out and away.

Jack is here. You are here. Trevor is not.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” you tell him awkwardly, still holding the door open and blocking the doorway. You’re all too aware of your lazy, solo-movie-night outfit as you stand in front of him. You’re clad only in a big shirt, one that normally reaches the middle of your thighs but has ridden up since your hands are raised and resting against the doorframe, and your favorite pair of panties. You did laundry earlier and showered, your big exciting thing of the day being that you could but on your favorite underwear and be lazy as soon as you finished the chore of folding your clothes. “Trevor’s in New York right now.”

“I know,” Jack says, a hand on his suitcase. The other is clenched by his side. “I have a meeting in LA tomorrow so he said I could stay here while he was gone.”

“Oh,” you reply, feeling silly. It would’ve been nice if your brother had told you that Jack was coming and staying here while he was gone, considering you’d made plans to be alone all night tonight. Trevor always does shit like this– he makes plans and then forgets to tell you until someone shows up or he has to leave to meet them. It’s frustrating. “Come on in, then.”

You move to the side, gesturing for Jack to enter the apartment, and he does. His suitcase rolls in behind him, just a little carry on, and he leaves it beside the door where he kicks off his shoes. 

Your hands make their way to the hem of your t-shirt, tugging at it. “I’ll, uh, go change into something more–”

“No, don’t worry about it,” Jack interrupts, waving you off. He clears his throat. “You don’t have to change on my account. I’m interrupting your night of–” 

He looks to the couch and the coffee table, littered with a bowl of popcorn and a bottle of wine that you had been drinking out of, straight from the spout. Your movie is paused on the screen, a silly Disney Channel movie that had come out when you and Trevor were children and still hadn’t lost its touch yet. You’re hoping that Jack doesn’t recognize the screencap, but Mel’s Lemonade machine fills the screen and if he’s seen Lemonade Mouth at all, he’ll know what movie you’re watching.

“Disney Channel and wine,” Jack finishes, pinching his lips to hide the amusement in his voice.

You frown, even though you want to burst into laughter with him. It is silly, what you’re doing, but you were supposed to be alone and who are you to be ashamed of your guilty pleasures?

“Don’t make fun,” you admonish, crossing your arms with a pout. “I thought I had the apartment to myself.”

“I’m not making fun!” Jack denies, holding his hands up in surrender. “I think it’s nice that you’re having a me-party.”

He’s referencing the other time he’s interrupted when you’re having a movie night on your own, when you watched The Muppets (2011) at the lake house because the boys were out on the boat and you had gotten a nasty sunburn the day before, so you’d stayed in. Jack had come back early because he was hungry, making the boys drop him off at the dock before going back out, and caught you red-handed with his favorite kind of pretzels and a half-full bottle of margarita next to the blender. 

You blush, glaring at him slightly. “Shut up, Jack.”

“No, this is perfect,” Jack continues, glowing a little as his shit-eating smile builds. He walks over to the couch and plops down, grabbing the bottle of wine and taking a swig before wiping his mouth. “I’m already dressed for a lazy night in, I shouldn’t waste it.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re such a dick,” you complain. “You know you don’t want to watch this movie with me.”

“Why not?” He challenges, another tilt of the bottle pouring the fruity liquid down his throat. He spreads his legs when he sits as all the boys do, taking up as much space as he can. 

“Because you won’t like it,” you say. “And because I wasn’t planning on having you here.”

“Were you planning on having someone else here?” Jack teases. “Popcorn, red wine, a movie, no pants… I think I see the writing on the wall.”

“No, God, shut up, Jack!” You repeat with a huff, returning to the couch and curling up against the opposite arm, far away from the boy. “Just be quiet while I watch my movie. If you’re good, I’ll let you have some popcorn.”

Jack wiggles his eyebrows at you, sticking out his tongue. You pull at the bottom of your shirt again, making sure that your panties aren’t visible when he looks over. This is already humiliating enough– you don’t need your long-time crush seeing your underwear, too.

You hit play and turn the volume up loud enough to drown out any comments Jack might make. You’re lucky the movie is short, because he’s an antsy boy who loves to talk, just like your brother, and you can tell that he’s anxious to start another conversation.

As the credits roll, you mute the television and turn to him. “What?” You demand, sitting in criss-cross-applesauce and shoving your hands into your lap to stretch your shirt over the space between your legs. 

“You really didn’t have plans tonight?” Jack asks. “It’s a Saturday night and you live in LA. You’re in your twenties. You didn’t want to have anyone over?”

You flush, but it’s less out of embarrassment and more out of anger. “Judgemental much, Hughes? Not all of us have people throwing themselves at our feet any given day of the week.” You grind your teeth, clenching your jaw and taking a deep breath. You stare at him, refusing to break eye contact. Jack shouldn’t be allowed to form opinions on your life. You know exactly what he’s insinuating– why aren’t you out there getting laid, Y/N? and it’s frustrating because it’s the same question you ask yourself whenever your friends text about their recent hookups or whenever Trevor brings a girl back to the apartment. 

More than anything, you don’t want Jack judging you. You know that your Saturday night plans are lame, but that’s why you wanted to be alone. 

Jack falls quieter, your reaction diluting his crooked, toothy smirk that he reserves for the people he knows well. “I’m surprised you don’t have– people. Throwing themselves at you.”

He’s awkward when he says it, too awkward not to make you suspicious.

He’s avoiding eye contact, picking at his nailbeds. 

“Would you?” You ask, directly to the point. You’re making a point, too– you’ve known Jack for years and he has never, not once, implied that he thinks you’re desirable. 

Jack says nothing, running his fingers through his hair and looking down. 

You nod to yourself and stand from the couch, still tugging at your shirt. You’re pulling it even lower now, the neckline dipping and stretching as you cover your legs up as best you can. “That’s what I thought,” you say quietly, a cold feeling washing through your chest and pressing down on the skin that your heart beats beneath. 

“I would,” Jack calls, just as you walk away. You’re positioned right in front of the door that leads to your bedroom when he says it, head hanging towards the ground so that he doesn’t see the frown on your face. 

His silence was a rejection and his afterthought is even worse. Nonetheless, you turn to face him. This time, it’s your silence that rings throughout the space.

“I would,” Jack repeats. “If, y’know. You weren’t–”

“Trevor’s sister,” You say, filling in the blanks and finishing his sentence. You nod, a tight, close-lipped, and pointed smile on your face. “You don’t have to explain, Jack. I realized a long time ago that my world would always revolve around Trevor.” Your hand is on the doorknob now, twisting it and cracking your door open. Your bed is right there and you can collapse into it in mere seconds, able to let your tears leak into your pillow silently as you remind yourself that you’re not as good as your twin brother once again, just as soon as you get these words out. “I know I can’t do or say the things I want to with the people I want to because they’re always thinking about Trevor.”

You could add, And why would you be any different? You know him best. Of course he’s the one you’re loyal to, but you decide against it. It’s too petty. It’s too mean. It’s too– real. 

You look at him one last time to bid him goodnight, already craving the following day when his meeting is over and he heads back to Michigan, far away from you and your un-desirability. The tight smile returns to your face, trying to smooth out your upset yet resigned features. It’s always the same thing. It’s not Jack’s fault, really, it’s not. You’ve imagined this conversation in your head many times and each time you think rationally, you know that this is how it has to be.

He’s Jack Hughes, for God’s sake. You’re just Trevor Zegras’ less successful, lesser known twin sister.

“Trevor would kill me,” Jack says on a whim. “Really. He would. He would stand me up and punch me, right here.”

You’ve got one foot in your bedroom and one foot out. Despite the ice piercing through your chest, you can’t find it in yourself to be rude and close the door on him. You turn to face Jack again.

He’s sitting forward on the couch, hands clasped in front of him like a prayer. He moves them when he talks, lowering them and spreading them and gesturing with them. He’s always done that, ever since you’ve known him– it’s another way that he calls attention to himself and takes up space. It’s part of the reason why he’s so charming– he knows how to use his hands, how to touch someone to politely get them to move or to pull them closer or to playfully shoo them away. 

“If I had a sister, I’d do the same thing to him,” Jack continues. “It’s just– we can’t go for each others’ family. It’s against the code.”

You nod, slowly, exaggeratedly just to show him how nonsensical that sounds. “You realize it’s not up to Trevor to decide who you go out with,” you say. “That’s kind of your choice, Jack.”

“It’s not that simple.”

You shrug, then look away. Outside the living room window is a dark night, leaves blowing with the wind. 

“It could be,” you say after a moment. You’re not surprised to hear how resigned you sound. You learned to live with this a long time ago, so you know that pointing out how easily things could change is futile. You say it anyway. “If you wanted it to be. But, I get it. I’m your best friend’s sister. Maybe if I wasn’t, you’d consider–”

“I have considered,” Jack interrupts. “I’ve– well, you’ve seen it. All the guys have.”

You’re lost. It’s like he’s speaking in code. “I’ve seen what?” You ask, monotonous and silently yearning for your bed. Your patience is growing thin.

“You can’t be serious,” Jack responds with a laugh. He buries his face in his hands, muffling the noise. “Are you?”

“I’ve seen what,” you repeat, straight-faced and not entertaining this sudden bout of humor from the brunet boy.

“How I look at you when you’re in those tiny little swimsuits on the boat, or how I laugh when you make one of your stupid jokes that aren’t funny to anyone but you and Trevor,” Jack says. “You really never noticed?”

Now he’s just dangling your hopeless crush in front of you. You assumed he had noticed sometime over the years, but this is overkill. He’s never felt the same– that much is clear. It’s cruel that he thinks he can lead you to believe otherwise as a means to further tease you for being alone tonight.

You shake your head. “I never noticed because you never did any of those things, Jack. You’re just saying that to say it.”

He’s up in a flash, coming towards you and placing a hand flat on your bedroom door to prevent you from closing it and ending the conversation. “I can’t believe you don’t believe me,” Jack says.

“I don’t think it’s funny that you’re making fun of the little crush I’ve had on you since we were kids. You don’t feel the same way and I’m not an idiot.” You move to close the door again, but Jack pushes it open again. 

“You– I’m not making fun,” Jack stammers out, looking surprised. He leans forward, narrowing his eyes. “You have a crush on me?”

Your jaw drops and your face flames with humiliation. You thought he knew that you liked him and that he was making fun on purpose– and now you’ve accidentally revealed your massive, well-kept secret to his face. This was never supposed to happen. “You didn’t know?” You hiss, covering the lower half of your face with your hands. 

“You have a crush on me,” Jack repeats, a smile spreading across his face. He steps closer, prompting you to back away.

“No. No,” you moan out, feeling positively ashamed and destroyed. Tonight is not turning out as you hoped it would.

Jack’s still smiling, closing your bedroom door softly behind him as he follows you into your room. 

You knock into the edge of your bed and sit, sinking into the mattress. Your hands are still pressed over your mouth as Jack kneels in front of you, prying your hands away from your face and holding them gently. 

“You have a crush on me,” Jack says for a third time, his voice soft and subtly optimistic. The corner of his mouth curves up into the tiniest of smirks and you swear your face couldn’t get any more red.

All you can give him is a frown and a devastated wobble of your bottom lip. 

“Well, this changes everything,” Jack says, regaining his ability to joke, it seems. His next question is rhetorical and makes you swallow hard. “Who gives a fuck about Trevor when you feel the same way I do?” 

“You’re– you’re serious,” you say, still a thread of disbelief sewn into your words. “You weren’t kidding. You actually– thought about it.”

“Thought about it?” Jack asks. “Fuck, Y/N, I almost told you right before you left last summer, but then you said you were talking to that guy.”

You roll your eyes– that guy had only been in your life for about a month and you had only mentioned him because Jack had mentioned a girl he wanted to see. You tell him such– “I only brought him up because everyone was talking about their romantic interests and who they were interested in, I didn’t want to seem like a loser. You had some girl, too, Jack.”

“Some girl– that was you,” Jack reveals incredulously. “I thought I was being so obvious.”

“You weren’t obvious at all!” You deny, mouth open in a scoff. 

“I thought that you mentioning that guy was your way of letting me down easy!”

“Yes, Jack, because I was going to reveal my feelings for you in a room full of both of our brothers. Good idea. You fucking idiot!”

Jack laughs aloud, throwing his head back. His face scrunches up and he smooths his face with his big palm at the end of his amusement. He fixes you with a look of glee and astonishment– something only hindsight can bring to his expression. “We’re so fucking stupid.”

You shake your head, laughing with him for a moment before he swipes a thumb over your cheek, which stills you. 

“Fuck,” he sighs, smile still gracing his face. “I can’t believe–”

“Me neither,” you say.

“Can I–”

“Absolutely.”

Jack’s rising up, kissing you and laying you back on the bed so that he can completely cover your body with his own. One of his hands cups your cheek, while the other grips your hip, atop your underwear but underneath the big t-shirt that is now riding up your body as you move. Your hand is on his bicep and his chest, clutching his sweatshirt. The strings dangle down into your space, brushing against your clothes and tickling you.

His hands memorize you like a topographic map, clutching at your dips and curves and anything else he can get his hands on. 

“Wanna take this off,” You mumble against Jack’s mouth, tugging at the collar of his sweatshirt.

Jack pulls back immediately, reaching behind his neck to grab the collar of his top and bring it above his head. He balls it up and drops it somewhere on the floor. 

“That, too,” you tell him, about his t-shirt, before he can bend back down and kiss you senseless again.

Jack chuckles and pulls it off, too, leaving him half-naked just like you. His chest is tanned and swollen from his recent workouts in Michigan since his shoulder surgery, something that Trevor had told you about but about which you’d never checked in. You’re gentler on that side of his body, especially as he comes back down into your space and you get to touch him. You run your hands over his muscles. You feel out the ridges of his body, trying to match his own confident movements as he feels you up.

One of your hands makes its way to his v-line, something you’d seen over plenty of boat trips. You’d always wanted the opportunity to touch it, to trace it, to watch it bend and flex as he rolled his hips. You’re being afforded that opportunity now and it is sweet.

“I thought you might like that,” Jack murmurs. “Caught you staring once. Was the same day you wore my favorite red swimsuit out.”

“I still have it,” you tell him, gasping a little when his hand slides up to your chest. He tweaks your nipple, then his hand retreats. 

“Mm, a treat for tomorrow,” Jack says. “I’m gonna have you walking around in that thing all day just so I can look at you. For now…”

He trails off, pushing the bottom of your shirt up and leaving your lips to attach his to the freshly revealed skin of your torso. He kisses up your body with each inch he reveals, between your breasts and up your neck. He pulls your shirt off, letting it join his own on the floor, and gets his first proper look at your tits.

“Been waiting to see these,” he continues, eyes fixed on your chest like he’s being hypnotized. He places his hands on you and squeezes, feeling your supple flesh between his fingers. You moan out at the sensation, the noise spurring him on. “Wanna know a secret?”

“Yeah,” you agree, nodding and tugging at his joggers, hoping he’ll get the hint and remove them.

“‘ve wanted to come on these tits since I first saw it in a porno,” Jack reveals, still mesmerized by your chest. “Thought about it a hundred times.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Come on my tits all you want, but you have to fuck me first.”

“Guess your Saturday night wasn’t so boring after all,” Jack says before he stands from the bed and tugs his pants off. He joins you again, wrapping your legs around his waist and kissing over your face. He grinds against you, his clothed cock sliding against your damp panties in a way that has you both keening into each others’ mouths. 

“Guess not,” is your reply, cut short by another moan when Jack’s hand claims your chest again.

You move without speaking after that, fueled only by the desire coursing through your veins after years of pining and aching for the other. 

Jack feels you out and eventually discards his own underwear before removing yours, returning to the missionary position that you had assumed as soon as you had first kissed. It’s sweeter this way– and you both need to see the other’s face, to feel their breath mix with your own. Your chests are flush together, your nipples scraping against the defined and broad swoops of his skin. You grind against each other for a few minutes more, his dick sliding between the wet lips of your pussy with nothing blocking it. He groans into your ear as your juices coat his length, eyes closed in a grimace that is completely charged by his pleasure.

“Condom?” is the last thing he asks, with you shaking your head and replying, “Pill.”

He lines himself up, mouth agape with a choked breath as he thrusts into your tight, wet heat. Your head finds the mattress beneath you, your back arching up as he fills you. You can feel his veins sliding against your walls, the blunt and weeping tip of his cock poking at your deepest parts.

He moves like a man possessed and fighting the beast– like he wants to let loose but at the same time, restraining himself. When you tug on his hair, the subtle waves that he’s been growing out over the summer and hiding beneath his hat in every picture you’ve seen, and whine out his name, Jack’s control vanishes.

He starts to piston his hips into your cunt, burying his face into your neck and letting out ecstasy-fueled whimpers each time you clench down. He curses in your ear, voice a little higher than it normally is, and the intimacy and vulnerability of the moment has your heart clenching. 

“J– J–” You chant, mewling as his cockhead drives against the back wall of your pussy in hard thrusts that make your head spin. 

“So good,” he grits out, kissing over your neck and catching your earlobe between his lips for a moment before dropping it. One of his hands is splayed over your hip, the other securely planted next to your head. “So tight.”

“Coming,” you warn, your fingers finding his bicep and clenching, fingernails digging into his skin so much that you won’t be surprised if you break skin. Your voice is high, too, octaves higher because of the pleasure you’re experiencing.

“Fuck, yeah, baby, come on my cock,” Jack pants out, the hand from your hip coming to rub circles over your clit. 

It sends a shock up your spine and has your hips bucking up to meet his, your entire lower half shaking as your climax approaches. Your eyes roll into the back of your head and your vision goes spotty when you do come, just seconds after his groaned encouragement. Your entire body tenses, freezing with Jack still inside of you, making it damn near impossible for him to continue pumping his hips. 

He slides from your opening as you’re coming, bringing some of the slick with him in a feeble excuse for a squirt. His dick bobs, hard and an angry red that might be the most beautiful color you’ve ever seen in your hazy, post-orgasmic state.

Jack comes up to straddle your stomach, stripping his cock quickly with a tight fist, chest heaving. You know he wants to come on your chest, having already given him permission, but your mouth opens and your tongue lolls out in an invitation that Jack can’t deny. He shuffles up further on his knees, his whimper sounding pained as his milky cum spurts from the tip of his cock and lands along the flat of your tongue and your lips.

His spurts grow weaker, although he’s still stroking his dick in a fervorous pace, whining a little more at the oversensitivity. His cum makes his way to your chest, just dripping down the length of his shaft and pooling over your tits. 

You reach up with one hand and trace your fingers through the seed, causing Jack to sway a little on top of you at the sight. His cheeks are flushed and pink, eyes blue and clear like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Your fingertips brush your nipple, spreading the cum over it before you bring your hand up to your mouth and suck the remaining liquid off of your skin, swallowing it with a hum.

Jack is off of you in a flash, pulling you on top of his lap and joining your lips. The last of his cum, painted across your tongue in a thin layer, mixes with your spit as he kisses you. He’s desperate, filling your mouth with his tongue until you can barely breathe, tasting himself on you until it’s indistinguishable– where you end and he begins.

It takes a long time for Jack to finally pull away, for you both to come down from your highs and take a breath.

In typical Jack fashion, he can’t stop himself from joking around.

“Trevor’s really going to kill me now,” he says. “There’s a chance he’ll never let us be in the same room again.”

You laugh, knowing already that neither of you will be willing to let this– whatever this is– go just because your brother has something to say about it. “In that case, we’ll just have to sneak away.”

notes: I WANTED TO NAME THIS "BFB" AFTER THE VICTORIOUS SONG SOOOOOO BAD!!!!! but alas. it's best friend's sister. maybe some other time. blahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. well now wait that's a good idea...

[vroomvroomcircuit]

Big Bird and his Cousins

(A/N): Thank you to @mclarengf for telling me about Big Bird getting shrunk and sharing the twitter thread with me

Summary: A small missing information nearly got Max and Lando into a fistfight aka this is my chance to tell more people about Big Birds eight international cousins

Pairings: driver!reader x f1!grid, but especially Max Verstappen and Lando Norris, Checo, Carlos and Zhou got more of a guest appearing

Wordcount: 1.3k

🏎Masterlist🏎

______________________

Most of the drivers have no problem with driving in the rain. But in a downpour straight from the seven pits of hell? That’s something even Max Verstappen says “no” to.

A considerable amount of the grid stays seated in the conference room, where they just got told that qualifying will be delayed by at least several hours. As soon as they were dismissed, (Y/N) sprinted out of the room, uttering something about a small bladder and long meetings and how they clash in the worst way possible.

“Have you seen what they did to Big Bird from Sesame Street? They made him tiny for the past week!” Lando complains loudly to Carlos while scrolling through his twitter feed. But the Spaniard is confused.

“I don’t know who you are talking about, mate.” He thinks for a second. “Oh, do you mean Caponata? They made her small?!” Carlos’ face lights up, remembering the bird fondly. It’s not something you think about every day, isn’t it?

Lando looks at his friend with a befuddled face . “No, you muppet! Big Bird is a yellow bird that is very tall.” Max, who heard the conversation involuntarily, because the Brit speaks passionately loud about this subject, turns towards the other two drivers.

“I don’t know what kind of off brand Sesame Street you two have watched, but the real name of the tall bird is Pino and Pino is pale blue.” His matter-of-fact voice sets something in Lando off. It just doesn’t sit right with him that Max acts almighty and knowledgeable about a topic he read something himself with his own two eyes.

He gets up from his seat, taxing the Dutchman with a belittling up and down look. “If I was you, I would get my eyes checked, because Big Bird is a bright yellow! Watch out for color blindness.” Max also squares up, getting toe to toe with Lando, getting ready to shoot back. “I can show you how good my eyesight is the next time I’ll drive an orange car with the number four off the track.” “It’s papaya!” Lando pulls up the sleeves to his hoodie, getting ready for a fight that goes beyond spoken words.

“No!” Checo intervenes, putting himself between the two drivers. In the meantime the majority of the remaining people in the room put their attention on the, for now verbally, fighting men. “The name of the bird is Abelardo Montoya and the colors are green, red and a bit of pink. Stop arguing about stuff you know nothing about. Also, I’m older. So I'm right.”

His confident statement attracts the arguments from Max and Lando. “You are absolutely wrong!” “Big Bird is not green!” “No, because Pino is a beautiful blue color!” “Shut it, Verstappen, or I’ll show you the way your skin will bruise a beautiful blue!” “Step away, Norris. You are like 12 and build like a stick. You have not the strength to show me anything.”

“Are you sure? Let’s take this outside and I shove a stick up you a-” “What is going on in the house of commence?” (Y/N)’s voice cuts through the noise sharply. The room falls silent for several seconds until everyone tries to explain themselves at the same time.

“Big Bird is yellow!” “No, his name is Pino and he is pale blue!” “No, she is orange and yellow and is called Caponata!” “No, it’s a green bird, you all know nothing!” “Sh, be quiet, Checo!”

(Y/N) sits down on her chair again and waits for them to get finished scrambling to find an excuse to defend their ego. “Did you ask Pierre what Big Bird looks like for him?” She smirks.

Pierre also smiles knowingly, all eyes on him. “We call our Big Bird Toccata and he is white.” Especially Lando tries to defend himself and his Big Bird another time very loudly. But (Y/N) is having none of it. She put her hand over his mouth, muffling his protests while starting an explanation of her own.

“Did you know that Big Bird has eight international cousins? They are part of Sesame Street from other countries all around the world.” While she starts explaining, Lando’s face drops. “While most versions have a yellow bird like the Big Bird Lando references the whole time, they call them different names. In German he is named Bibo, ask Hülkenberg. In the Netherlands, Brazil and France, they got some versions of Big Bird’s cousins. I think in China they changed his name to the literal translation of Big Bird, but he still counts as one of the cousins. They explain it by calling them identical cousins.”

She throws a look to Zhou, who nods in confirmation and adds “His name is Da Niao”. “The cousins also live in Spain, Portugal and Turkey. Did you not know about this? I thought it was common knowledge. It was all over Twitter a couple of years ago. Now I see the threat every now and then again on tiktok with some minecraft gameplay in the background playing.”

Max mulls over the new information. “This explains everything.” Meanwhile Lando is a bit more shocked. “So I nearly got into a fist fight with Max Verstappen, because someone in some writer’s room decided to give Big Bird cousins and never said anything in the show?”

(Y/N) throws him a confused face. “What do you mean you nearly got into a fist fight? Those are muppets from a kids show! How can you pick a fight over muppets in different colors? They are not even real? In what way does this warrant to get physical?”

Well, if you put it like that, it sounds a bit irrational. Maybe silly even. Of course, no one says this outloud, but the faces all around are enough confirmation for the female driver.

“Gosh, that’s childish. But on the topic of Sesame Street: Have you seen the tweets about Big Bird being shrunk? I need justice for Big Bird!” And so a new discussion starts about the sense behind Big Bird being tiny.

A few hours later the track is cleared again after the storm eventually cleared up. Qualifying can finally start.

The interviews after are relaxed in a way no one expected and most of the newer drivers have never experienced before. Maybe it is the collective relief that qualifying is over without any more delays due to the weather or other problems.

“Coming to the last question,” the journalist closes up her post quali interview with (Y/N), “How did you pass the time until today’s session started? Did all the drivers have another Fifa tournament? Or was it Mario Kart this time?”

The female driver laughs a bit about the joke. “Oh no, not this time. I wouldn’t play Fifa with them anyways, I’m too competitive for that and not good enough at this game at the same time. But I’ll keep the Mario Kart idea in my head for the next skyfall rain. But today I was able to educate the boys on some Sesame Street lore, specifically about Big Bird’s eight international cousins.”

The reporter has a bemused face on. “I never heard of them.��� “There is a link on the wiki page regarding Big Bird, dedicated to them. It’s amazing and super cute. Look it up!” (Y/N) winks into the camera.

This is the story of how breaking up a close call to a fist fight between two very stubborn drivers led to (Y/N) being a feature on Sesame Street. And how the trend of #justiceforBigBird across many social media platforms became a thing afterwards.

[girl4music]

Happy 29th anniversary to the pilot episode of XENA.

Original air date: September 4th, 1995.

Directed by Doug Lefler. Written by Robert Tapert.

Lead starring Lucy Lawless as Xena.

and Renee O’Connor as Gabrielle.

I will watch and write meta about other TV shows.

I will watch and write meta about other TV ships.

But nothing I watch or write meta about in this world will ever come close to matching my fan passion and loyalty to the TV show ‘Xena: Warrior Princess’ and the TV ship Xena and Gabrielle. They are my one true love.

What ‘Sins Of The Past’ does once you’ve seen the whole TV show and watch the episode back over is it shows you how intertwined these soulmates already are as the event of them meeting saves their lives and once you are aware of the wheres and whys of this - the show itself completely changes into something more valuable than you initially saw and understood. I recommend people go back and watch it and only view it as a love story from the very beginning because the way it hits you when you do is just mind-blowing.

They set up a beautifully complex and layered WLW love story between Xena and Gabrielle without really realizing that that’s what they were doing because it’s such a very natural and authentic queer storytelling of two strangers that find home in the soul of each other.

"There’s not a word yet, for old friends who’ve just met” is a lyric in a song written by Paul Williams and Kenny Ascher from ‘The Muppets Movie’. Writer and co-executive producer, who wrote many of the most formative episodes of ‘Xena: Warrior Princess’, Steven L. Sears affectionately ascribes that lyric to Xena and Gabrielle because he believes it perfectly describes the incredible soulmate connection that the two main characters share right from the very beginning of the TV show. And I would have to say that I agree with him on that because no matter what alternative Universe, Uber timeline, reincarnated lifetime or afterlife it is, they meet each other and they develop an attraction to and affinity for each other that seemingly goes way beyond basic friendship and romance and they have a dynamic that is so strong, so substantial and so damn profound that the studio gave up on censoring them. It’s a dynamite chemistry that can be felt so viscerally that you can watch the episodes countless times over and still pick up on fresh new things about the way these two characters are with one another and how they balance and complement each other so perfectly that they’re basically the human representation of yin and yang. And you can read my Xena and Gabrielle: Character study thesis to learn what I mean by that.

Their relationship is incredibly well-written in that it’s so carefully and conscientiously slow-burned and evolved from friends into lovers that it will make it impossible not to ship them together. Believe me - even if you’ve seen Xena before, you haven’t seen it like this. You haven’t seen it as a WLW love story from the beginning to the end. But once you do, you will be attached to it in ways that will make you just like me.

That is… Lifelong dedicated to and enamoured with it.

This is a TV show that finished airing in the year 2001 but it’s been my everything since I first discovered it at 5 years old just flicking through the UK channels bored out of my mind or so my parents have told me.

I cannot even begin to imagine of who I’d be without this TV show and TV ship in my life and I know no other will ever come close to it or them for me for the rest of my life. So all day today I am spending my time celebrating not just the TV show’s anniversary of its pilot episode but also Xena and Gabrielle’s anniversary of meeting and becoming the greatest love story ever told in TV art/entertainment history. They’re iconic and legendary in the LGBTQ community for a reason. That reason is that they’re the first and, honestly, still the best WLW/queer representation that can ever be witnessed and engaged with on the TV screen. The factors as to why that’s true are many,… but mainly… it’s because they were allowed to exist and evolve together as the only lead main female characters in such a way that no other WLW ship on TV ever would or could do so again. They may have been severely censored as an explicit romantic and fully maintext confirmed and committed couple on screen but the creators never let that prevent them from providing a depiction of an all-encompassing love that was much like a romance and still went beyond a romance. Xena and Gabrielle’s love went way beyond the boundaries of romance. I’m not ever saying it’s not that. I’m just saying that it’s more than that and that’s exactly what makes it even more romantic than anything else ever created at least in the TV format and paradigm it was.

Since then, the landscape has changed so drastically that TV WLW/queer ships are never given what they got. Which was a 6 seasons, 22-24 episodes-long epic journey of them just being each other’s absolute EVERYTHING. You can see, hear and feel every single moment of that in who Xena and Gabrielle are as both individual main characters and as a main character dynamic because they do not ever neglect any real and raw aspect about them. The only thing you do not ever get to see between them - although it is heavily implied often - is sexual intimacy. That really is not a loss because everything else that should or needs to be there is there way more than it is with any other WLW/queer TV ships in any other TV shows because they’re lead main characters. In fact… they’re the only lead main characters that are credited throughout the entire run of ‘Xena: Warrior Princess’ and, honestly, sometimes I do wish TV ships in other TV shows would censor themselves every now and again so that they would be forced to dig deeper into the nuances and details as much as they did with Xena and Gabrielle.

I know many would disagree with me here but I’m adamant that the censorship helped them more than it hindered them because what you got instead with them was such a powerful representation of true love that didn’t have to rely on sex to represent it. I know that they couldn’t be shown to be sexually intimate because it wasn’t allowed to be sexual. Nowadays it can but I find that sex is used too much now when it shouldn’t be because a real life WLW/queer ship is more than sex and that’s why Xena and Gabrielle is still better representation even in this day and age.

It’s a combination of queer censorship, unbelievably strong chemistry between the leads and the creator/cast/crew’s sincere intention with queer storytelling that gave us the truly EPIC WLW love story that we got with XENA and I wouldn’t have it any other way because, for me, that is everything I could ever want.

So if you love this TV show and TV ship, please join me in celebrating the timelessly magical experience it is by writing meta about what these things mean to you.

XENA: “You know, I’m sending you home in the morning.”

GABRIELLE: “I won’t stay home. I don’t belong there, Xena. I’m not the little girl that my parents wanted me to be. You wouldn’t understand.”

XENA: “It’s not easy proving you’re a different person.

*Gabrielle eyes her curiously, Xena throws a bundle of blankets at her, gestures to the other side of the fire*

You can sleep over there.”

XENA: “You know, where I’m headed, they’ll be trouble.”

GABRIELLE: “I know.”

XENA: “Then why would you want to go into that with me?”

GABRIELLE: “That’s what friends do. They stand by each other when there’s trouble.”

XENA: “All right, friend.”

[thenixkat]

Like, I still can't properly picture Jiji as a threat to Ken's romantic pursuit of Momo since Jiji spends so much time looking and acting like a muppet (apparently he deals with his emotions by acting like a clown) and Ken's concern comes off as a bit silly. But like then I remember that Jiji is an entire unit, boy is very fucking tall and absolutely jacked, so maybe Ken has a bit to be worried about at least on the physical level. But I can't get past Jiji acting like a muppet most of the time

like yes, I understand from the perspective of these teenagers, Jiji is immensely attractive and very good at charming the ladies. But all I see is muppet for 90% of the time until I get reminded that this kid is massive and shredded

[izzyhandslightofmylife]

Official statement on why Izzy's death affected me so much

Our Flag Means Death, is, at it’s core, is a show that focuses on queer joy- a form of therapy for those that have been raised on queerbaiting, shipping minor side characters, or watching, when nothing else is available, queer tragedies. You know how it goes- the two main characters, both male, have chemistry. They say things to each other that seem weirdly like declarations of love. They look at each other with love in their eyes. You see these things and the main man gets married off to a badly written, unfinished female character and is left feeling empty. The best friend dies for the main character to live. When everyone talks about how cute the main couple are, you want to scream all of a sudden, because nobody can see this love story play out except you. It’s queer, it’s tragic, and nobody else can understand it. 

Not Our Flag Means Death. From the moment it aired, it was praised as a show with unabashed queer joy, which means more than I can possibly say. The two main male characters meet, they have chemistry, and they fall in love. It’s not implied, or hinted at, but blatantly obvious. Their romances and the queer romances around them attracted so many queer fans who felt that after so many years, this type of show was a vindication for what they had been through with other media. 

In this show, piracy itself was that of a found family. Though Stede Bonnet and the crew of the Revenge start off with many differences, the core of the show centers around a theme that many queer audiences are attracted to: found family. The Revenge was depicted as a safe space, where everyone could express themselves freely, a refuge from a world of judgment. Queerness was not only accepted but normalized on The Revenge. No homophobia, no coming out, no typical complications of queer romance. Just love and safety. Warmth, which was Ed Teach wished for in purgatory. Which was what he found on the Revenge. The ship was a safe space that so many queer audiences had dreamed of. 

Well, a safe space except for one person: Izzy Hands, Blackbeard’s First Mate, who was a man painfully stuck in the wrong genre. This is the general consensus by both fans and the cast: Izzy, Edward and their crew had been in a gritty action movie, whereas Stede and his crew were in a muppet movie of sorts. While the majority of Blackbeard’s crew quickly acclimates to and celebrates the change, Izzy doesn’t. 

And right away, many fans felt a deep attraction to Izzy. The reason that Izzy couldn’t get Edward to love him was because, in the end, the only way that Izzy knew how to love was through blood. To give and receive pain in an action movie is one of the greatest forms of love, but Izzy fails to realize that Ed is not in an action movie anymore. He is happy with this stability, and the reason that so many people felt Izzy’s presence so was strongly was that he wasn’t. 

So many queer people are, in a way, addicted to tragedy. Tragedy is all that is represented in queer media for the most part, or was until very recently. Take Achilles and Patroclus, one of the most celebrated and recognized queer love stories of both ancient and modern times. Why that one? There are other greek love stories, many of them queer. The tragedy of it- Patroclus’ death and Achilles’ rage- made it all the more appealing. Many in the audience of Our Flag Means Death were not comedy fans, they were horror or drama fans, attracted to a comedy because of the love story. But Izzy, to them, was a physical representation of who they were, carrying an awareness of homophobia, of blood and pain that so many queer relationships had previously been illustrated by (i.e. Hannibal). Though Ed may not have understand this type of affection, the audience did- Izzy’s Otherness from the crew despite it’s safety, his expressions of love and his unrequited love story were all things that the audience were familiar with feeling. 

If Ed and Stede were good queer representation, Ed and Izzy, for example, were a foil of that. They were evil, messed up, and fed into the worst parts of each other because it brought them closer. This is a theme present in a lot of queer media, and by extension, queer lives: “if you love me, Henry, you don’t love me in a way I understand”, is an excerpt classic queer poem about unrequited love that fits the situation. The very reason Izzy stuck in people’s heads because he was of a different genre. His grittiness and bitterness made sense to the audience. They saw Izzy and saw what was familiar. He was exquisitely written, simultaneously making even casual audiences both hate him, and against all odds, find him oddly endearing. The idea of this man sacrificing every inch of himself for an unrequited love was a concept of tragedy, leaking into a comedic show. 

So fans projected onto Izzy. He was a catalyst for the heartache, for the audience’s sheer inability to have a happy show. For one reason or another, some of the audience simply couldn’t live with a show that was all fantastical, which I theorize is because they couldn’t see themselves in it. So Izzy became the epitome of queer suffering: pining longingly after another man that couldn’t understand him. This projection of suffering, however, led to a new wish: happiness for Izzy. If Izzy in Season 1 was a tragedy, assimilating him into the found family in Season 2 would have elevated the safe sense of the ship all the more. It would have proved to so many of these Izzy Fans that yes, even though you view yourself as unloveable, even though you see yourself as Israel Hands, Villain, even he can be loved too. Why can’t you be? 

And Season 2, for the most part, delivered beyond our wildest dreams. Izzy had people who cared about him. And though the genre shifted into the darker, Izzy himself shifted slightly to the comedic side as well. His life, which had been centered for so long around a man that didn’t reciprocate his feelings, was gone. He started a new life, and this life, again, focused on queer joy. The queer joy from Season 1 was suddenly for everyone, even those like Izzy that couldn’t have understood it. He sang, he whittled, he talked about feelings, he dressed in drag. Many elder queer fans also saw Izzy as another metaphor, too: that queer joy can be attained overtime. You don’t have to have had it the whole time, but you can accept yourself even when you are older. The message of Izzy was one of resilience and stubbornness, one that the queer community needed to hear: that you don’t have to be like this, you don’t have to create pain for yourself. You don’t need to watch tragedies all the time. You, too, can heal from the past.

And then, the season finale happened. By this point, many argued that Izzy had stolen the show. Con O’Neil’s acting mixed with his general arc of self acceptance had made him a fan favorite. In the last episode, it is Izzy himself who sums it up perfectly, accepting that he belongs somewhere despite his pain and flaws. Despite the darkness within him, he was still accepted and loved. He says it right to the face of Prince Ricky, who thinks himself above it all. That piracy, a metaphor for otherness, wasn’t actually about being alone; it was about finding others that understood you when nobody else could. 

Listen, this show is known for it’s nonsensicality. In the finale of Season 1, Lucius is thrown overboard by Ed and survives by simply swimming to another ship. Stede reunites with his crew by sailing a rowboat. Buttons turns into a seagull. Stede stabs Ed for a comedic bit. Earlier in the season, Izzy himself gets shot and survives. This queer joy show was celebrated for being, well, joyful. Even when things like getting thrown overboard did happen, they were, ultimately, a blip in the character’s journey towards acceptance, healing, etc, which was what made the show unique. Our Flag Means Death, whose audience had been living for years off of the “Bury your gays” trope, was adored because it illustrated a world where things didn’t have to be that way. A place where the impossible, such as Izzy Hands being loved, could happen. This show was one of survival. 

But not for the one person that was seen to struggle with this concept the most. Not for the one person that was a metaphor for belonging in this place, who became, over the course of a season, the embodiment of the message itself. Not for the Unicorn, the very symbol of this magical, nonsensical ship. Not for the most stubborn, most indestructible, most enduring (queer) person in the show. Not for Izzy Hands. 

This trope, honestly, was one that many have seen before, both in mainstream and queer media. A character, previously shown to be a villain or else to have gone through a lot of pain, is shown to heal, to get better, and then to die in order to “complete their arc”. This trope is common: Loki, Cas. even Ted Lasso, who doesn’t die but goes back to the very place that broke him in the first place. But the reason that Izzy’s death, while it might have been expected in another show, felt like a betrayal in this one is because it was known for subverting those tropes. From the “Bury Your Gays” to the “Up For Interpretation”, it was known to look those tropes in the eyes and say “fuck you, these people deserve to be happy”. And this did happen! Except for the one character who’s healing journey was one of the most relatable, at least to queer audiences. 

What also made it so jarring was that all the other characters got to be happy, except for the one that had struggled with the idea of happiness the most. In the scene immediately after Izzy is buried, Lucius and Pete get married. In the scene after, a montage of queer joy and found family is shown amongst the whole crew. In the final scene, Ed and Stede, our main queer couple, are shown healing themselves and starting a new life together. The last shot, however, showed Izzy’s grave, visited by Buttons the seagull while Ed and Stede had dinner. A tragedy in it’s finest. It wouldn’t have been difficult for Izzy to live. Because, in the end, his death meant nothing. His healing meant nothing. He died and was moved on from in a matter of seconds. He was, as I mentioned, the catalyst for tragedy, more specifically, queer tragedy. But because of this, of his genre, Izzy didn’t get to live. He had to die in order for the rest of the characters to keep living in this fantasy world. This death was, in a way, a preservation of these other love stories.

I maintain, however, that it would have meant more if Izzy had lived. If he had been  able to show to us that yes, despite what you have been through, despite what you may have inflicted upon yourself, you can switch genres. It’s possible. Izzy’s survival up until that point had been a profound testament to many that it is possible to heal, that queerness does not have to mean sadness. It would have continued to be a testament to that if only Izzy had lived. And so, this pirate that we latched onto, not in spite of his darkness but because of it, was buried on land on the side of the road. 

As a side note, many previous incidences in the story point to the idea even though Ed and Stede will definitely stay together, it’s uncertain if the inn would have worked out. It’s likely that, being a whim, those two might have chosen to move, or go back to the sea, or sail to China. If this is true, they would have left Izzy’s grave by itself, like a family pet buried in the yard. If this is true, Izzy Hands, a metaphor for belonging, would rot alone. 

Long live the tragedy addicts. Long live the Richard Siken poems. Long live Izzy Hands. 

*When I talk about the "fandom" I am referring to the canyon.

[sexydoffyman]

Hello I was wondering If I could request some John Price (From Cod) x male reader who's dealing with some internalized homophobia? (Potentially with Yandere Price 😳)

INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA

navigation

genre: fluff

A/N: I love this so fucking much. Bro can sign my adoption papers. I hope I understood internalized homophobia right. I loved writing this so much.🐞

You hated yourself. Ever since you were a child, it was forced upon you. "Homosexuality is wrong" That was the sentence you heard the most around your family.

It got engraved into your brain that it is simply wrong. In your head, being a homosexual was like committing a war crime. Your head was clouded with grey smoke. Like someone had been smoking cigars in there since you remembered your first memory.

You felt like a poor excuse for a human being.

It was your fifth year working in the army now. You had a couple missions with TF 141. And the captain. His name was Price, you remembered. He was... charming... and symphatic. You found him strangely attractive.

You freaked out when that thought crossed your mind. You, attracted to a man? "No way! Never! That's wrong. Gay people are wrong."

After some time had passed, you figured it was like when a straight man says that Ryan Reynolds is hot. Yes, that was it.

Nothing else.

Nothing. else.

As time passed by, you felt daydreaming about him. You didn't find it gay. It was simple scenarios like getting saved by him. Or him carrying you... You soon realized that those scenarios weren't just daydreaming about a cool soldier. You were attracted to him.

You couldn't comprehend it. It was so wrong for you to like a man. You felt like a monster. Like a pile of shit. A pile of useless shit. You were wrong.

You hoped that no one noticed. You hoped no one knew you were wrong. You hoped he didn't know.

You thought it was just a little crush and that, in no time, you would get over it and be normal. To your surprise, this "little crush" lasted for six months. And throughout these months, you began to have little different scenarios in your head.

You imagined him cuddling you. You imagined your chests touching. You imagined how would he look naked. You imagined how would he have sex with a lady.

You knew he was a straight man. That was one of the reasons why you hoped he wouldn't find out.

Unfortunately for you, Price had noticed some of your... habits. The way you looked at him. The way you looked somewhere else when he caught you staring.

He at first thought that you were just admiring him as a more experienced soldier. He was proud of the fact he was being admired.

After a few months, he started noticing some other things about you. The way you would bite the inside of your mouth right below your lip. The way your cheeks blushed a little every time he told you "Good job, glad to have you on my team again" The way you would take any chance to make physical contact with him.

Leaning on his shoulder, tired on helicopter rides. Helping him stand up. Greeting him by patting his shoulder. Brushing your thighs against his when you sat next to each other. Letting him push you wherever he needed you to be.

He noticed how you were looser around him. You weren't tensed up with him by your side, unlike when you were tensed up with other people his rank and age.

One day, his curiosity got to him. He needed to know. He needed to know if you liked him more than just a "cool experienced soldier"

He came to your room knocking before entering. He asked you "Is there any chance you find me attractive, for professional purposes, of course."

You defended yourself. Saying that you were not a freak. He looked at you with soft, caring eyes. "That's not why I need to know, muppet" You paused for a while and began speaking again. "Why are you asking then?"

Without hesitation, he spoke, "If you like me and care about me, I want to know since I want people who care about me safe." You kept looking at him for a while, then asked. "What do you mean by like?"

Price chuckled and spoke while smiling. "If you like me as a good friend or if you have feelings for me." You didn't know what to say. Was this just a trap to make you admit that you're a freak? You thought.

You thought about what you wanted to say for a bit. You gathered up the courage to speak. "So what would you do in both of these situations?" You asked him, hoping to avoid telling him you have feelings for him you can no longer deny.

"Just tell me." Price said. "You don't have to be scared." You thought about it and decided to tell him the truth. "I probably have feelings for you." "No, not probably." "Definitely"

He smiled at you, giving off a warm energy. "I'm glad you said that." "And you know what?" You shook your head, slowly letting him talk. "I probably like you too."

Your cheeks flushed. You were confused. Why wasn't he mad at himself. Why did he say it so casually? Why did you have a problem with it in the first place?

He laughed a little. "Well, let's see what happens to this awkward relationship of ours." He said, talking about it like he was talking about a mission. He took a step forward to you, looking down at you.

He bent his knees a little and leaned down so his face was your height. He put his thumb and index finger on the side of your jaw and softly kissed the other side.

He smiled at you, tilting his hat as if saying "See you later" and left the room, closing the door behind him.

You stood in the room, and an unfamiliar feeling filled your body. Your body was filled with joy. You squeaked like a teenage boy. Your smoke-filled head had just been filled with the smoke of a different cigar.

Prices cigar.

[beanghostprincess]

Headcanon that Buggy in calmness is probably very gorgeous, it's just that he emotes like a muppet and everyone is put off by muppet emotions...and then the pretty boy Buggy sneaks up on them and they stare gobsmacked in the distance like "oh no the clown is pretty, I must guard this truth till death", which is probably why Shanks is seething,screaming, crying whenever Buggy gets new allies...he can't have more rivals in love for Buggy, he needs everyone to stay firmly in the "muppet clown man" stage of knowing Buggy...Mihawk calls him up at 3 in the morning, post realisation, says "I get it now" down the receiver and hangs up before Shanks is even awake enough to comprehend it and when he does he goes to wake up Benn to beg him to sail off to Karai Bari to stop Mihawk and Crocodile from seducing his clown. Benn doesn't care about it, Shanks is just lucky cause Croc and Hawk are shit at flirting and Buggy is oblivious to being attractive

Shanks doing everything he can so people think Buggy isn't gorgeous is extremely hilarious to me, thank you. He noticed he was pretty when they were kids (because he didn't only see him calm, but truly happy back then) and he's been keeping it to himself selfishly because he really, really wants Buggy's beauty to stay between them. Jealouse dumbass in love. When Mihawk calls, I'm sure he just does that to inform Shanks but there's this layer of competition and making him know he's gonna flirt with Buggy that I love. Shanks crying sobbing and telling Benn to go to Karai Bari is the most real thing in the world but it's just so funny because, when he actually gets there, he'll find Mihawk and Crocodile trying to win Buggy's heart while Buggy genuinely thinks they hate him (<- oblivious clown).

[atimeofyourlife]

A song for the night

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt: open mic night | rated: t | wc: 689 | tags: pre-steddie Eddie performs at open mic night at the bar Steve works at

Open Mic Night was somehow both Steve's favorite and least favorite night of the month to be working the bar. It was his favorite because it usually wasn't too busy, and he got to enjoy the local talent of musicians and comedians. It was his least favorite because for every one good or half decent act, there were five or six bad ones. And unlike the patrons of the bar, he couldn't just go out for a smoke during every comedian whose jokes sat firmly in the misogynistic, homophobic, and racist categories, or every tone-deaf singer that didn't understand how to tune an instrument. And to top it all off, he had to be the one to get up on the stage between each act, enthusiastically thanking them, trying to rouse something of an applause, before introducing the next act.

It was after a frightfully painful comedic routine, that seemed to have consisted solely of the guy talking about how much he hated his wife, that Steve caught sight of him. An attractive guy with long dark hair.

"Okay, thank you Derrek, for that interesting comedy routine. Everybody, give it up for Derrek." Steve kept his voice full of fake enthusiasm as he brought his hands together a few times. He then checked the list for the name of the next act. "And next up, we have another local musician. Please welcome Eddie Munson to the stage." Steve clapped a few more times as he made his way offstage, heading back behind the bar. He glanced up at the stage, and saw the most handsome man he'd seen in his entire life. It felt like it didn't matter whether or not this Eddie was any good, Steve was going to enjoy just watching him.

He couldn't keep staring the entire time, having to serve drinks to the other patrons of the bar, but his attention did keep getting drawn back to the man on the stage. He looked and sounded incredible, playing an acoustic medley of metal songs. Steve had to shake himself out of it after he'd gotten distracted while pouring a drink, overfilling the glass and covering his hand in beer. He handed the beer over to the customer, before drying his hands on a paper towel. Thankfully, it was nearly time for the next act, so Steve made his way back to the stage, hoping that someone else being up there would help him focus on his work again. Eddie finished the last song, and stepped back from the mic, starting to pack down his guitar. Steve stepped on to the stage, applauding as he went.

"Now, wasn't that incredible, ladies and gentlemen. Everyone, give a hand for Eddie Munson." Steve said into the mic, not having to fake his enthusiasm as he clapped this time. "And after that amazing set, next up we have Tammy Thompson."

Steve went back to the bar, wincing at how this next singer sounded. She'd performed several times at previous open mic nights, giving Steve an in joke about her sounding like a Muppet with Robin.

He started serving drinks again, noticing how the bar had emptied significantly, most of the regulars heading out to smoke for a few minutes to save their sanity, Steve just wished he could join them.

"What can I get to make this sound better?" A voice asked.

Steve turned quickly to see Eddie, and it took him a moment to get his brain to formulate the words needed to respond. "Legally, I don't think I'm allowed to sell something that strong."

Eddie laughed at that, his laugh as breathtaking as his singing voice. "In that case, I'll just take a PBR."

"Sure." Steve grabbed the beer. "Anything else I could get for you?"

"Your number, maybe?"

Steve's eyes widened for a second as he blushed a deep pink. He scrambled for a pen and a napkin, scribbling down the number as neatly as he could. "Here. Maybe we could get a drink some time?"

They both winced as a particularly pitchy note came through the speakers. "Just not when it's another open mic night."

[queenofthekings]

𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒞𝒶𝓉

Summary: Every cat loves Eddie, all except one.

Author's note: I have no idea where this came from but the idea of a cat making Eddie's life hell is so funny to me.

CW: None

Word count: 702

Any hate will not be tolerated, constructive criticism is welcomed.

It was easy to say Eddie liked cats, and cats very much liked Eddie. Anywhere he’d go, he would somehow attract cats; whether they were strays or domesticated, they seemed to be all over him.

All cats liked Eddie, except for one.

Wayne’s ginger tabby cat – also called Eddie – despised him. Eddie the Cat would pee on Eddie the Human’s bed, use his guitar amps as chew toys and hiss anytime he so much looked in the cat’s general direction. On more than one occasion, Eddie had thought about how life would be easier if that cat wasn’t around.

The ginger tabby had been around for as long as Eddie could remember, always curled up with Wayne on the couch after he came home from work and snuggled up to him while he slept.

But as soon as Wayne left, and it was just Eddie and the cat? A never-ending spree of growling, hissing, and trying to bite and scratch Eddie’s hands. But nobody ever believed him, because the cat was so nice and sweet to everyone else except for him.

Even you had a hard time believing that the little elderly cat was capable of being so vicious, as he was always sweet to you and wanting head scratches. It was while you were giving Eddie the cat endless amounts of attention and Eddie the human was stumbling in the kitchen to make drinks that you made him question everything, by a simple observation; “Eds, have you ever thought about who was named Eddie first?”

He hesitated as he brought his head out of the fridge to look at you, “what do you mean, honey?”

You leaned back a little on the sofa to get your head closer towards him. “I mean, the cat has been around for practically forever. Have you thought that the cat was named after you or the other way around?”

Eddie completely froze at the thought, falling unusually silent for the rest of the night until you went home, and he was able to sit down with Wayne during dinner. “Wayne,” he began, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “This is a serious question; was the cat named after me, or was I named after the cat?”

Wayne looked at his nephew for a few moments, completely confused as to why he’d ask such a question before finally answering. “You were named after the cat.”

The answer completely broke Eddie, he felt as if his whole life was a lie. For years, he thought he was named after a distant family member or someone famous but to be named after that cat? Absolutely not. It had to be a lie; it couldn’t possibly be true.

But Wayne wouldn’t lie to him, would he?

Laying in bed and being unable to shake that thought, even at 2am. He called you, waiting multiple times for you to pick up, your sleepy voice quietly coming through the phone. “Eddie, it’s late, tell me it’s important otherwise I’ll have to kill you.”

He could tell you were already falling back asleep as you were talking, and he did feel bad for waking you up, but you were the voice of reason. “I’m sorry for waking you up, baby. I promise I’ll make it up to you in the morning, but Wayne told me I was named after the cat and-”

Your sigh cut him off, hearing the rustling of your bedcovers as you got comfortable. “Eddie, you were not named after the cat, and the cat doesn’t hate you.”

“But how do you know?”

“Because Eddie the Cat is seventeen years old, you’re almost twenty. And he only attacks you because weed is toxic to cats and you reek of it most of the time, you complete muppet. Now go to fucking bed.”

Eddie was about to question you again, but you hung up on him, almost instantly drifting off back to sleep. He tried to call you several times, but you were too deep in sleep to reply. By the time you woke up, you had 6 missed calls and only one text.

EDDIE: But how can you be SURE I wasn’t named after the cat?

[vimbry]

reading another post about the recurring qualities of famous people they're into got me into unpacking my own preferences. and I guess it's like:

striking eyes. arguably The biggest factor. I can't quite describe exactly what it is, but typically what draws me to someone most is having some mesmerising quality of sparkly/big/bulging/just kinda pretty eyes. usually brown to black (hair too), but not really a dealbreaker if not, there's definitely some lighter-eyed guys I like.

related to that, they have to have the scariest/menacing resting face but completely opposite personality. shoebill of a man. if he looks like he's trying to blow someone up with his mind but is just a goofy (!!) sweetheart I want him. EVEN better if they have a creepy/morbid sense of humour.

I like when they take opportunities in interviews and stuff to geek out about some interest they have. passion is an attractive quality in a person, I think everyone can agree. it's endearing, it's cute. just let someone promote through infodumping for 4 paragraphs instead of asking them the same questions they've answered dozens of times before. no I don't care that these promotions are intended to be entr-level accessible news to people who reasonably haven't absorbed every bit of information.

they're like. 50+. there's some younger exceptions in there for sure (assad z.aman), but it's Very rare that I like someone closer to my own age, and definitely not under. people's facial features have always just been more attractive to me as they age.

the schlubbiest little wardrobe. like, I don't know what it is, but the charisma of pulling off the most casually unassuming hoodies, shirts, and sweaters is really attractive to me. looking stylish yet utterly comfortable. maybe this is a visual sensory thing lmao. yeah, absolutely no famous-person-with-money-presentation about them.

all the people I like have very thick jawlines/chins and wide mouths I've noticed? usually with deep laughter lines/jowls. I can't think of a non-insulting way to say "face that would translate really well to a muppet". the average person I like just looks like don music.

[aemiron-main]

Gay Mike Wheeler Posts

The OG ‘if Will Is Gay Men Who Die By Hate Crimes, Mike Is Gay Men Who Die By Suicide’ And Hypervisible Vs Invisible Gay Men And Ted Wheeler’s Ignorance Post (x)

If Mike Ever Actually Loved El/Even Just Had A Crush On Her, Why Didn’t He Use The Moment He Actually Fell In Love With Her As Part Of His Monologue Instead Of Claiming It Was Love At First Sight? (x)

The Rainbow Lens Flare On Top Of Mike In The Shed (x)

Mike Thinks Will Had A Crush On Angela (x)

Mike’s Figuring Out What Romantic Love Actually Is/Feels Like (x)

Mike’s Sweetie Pie and Phoebe Cates Expression (x)

Mike Calling El Pretty Isn’t Meant To Be Romantic (x)

The 60 Minutes Namedrog And Its AIDs Themed Episode (x)

El Kisses Mike The Same Way The Fleshflayer Flays People (x)

We’ve Seen This Setup With Will Behind Mike And El Before (x)

Initial Post About Mike’s Crush on Eddie (x)

Watch Where You’re Going, Frogface (x)

Flying Around In Fairyland With All The Other Fairies: Mike And The Fairy Wings (x)

Why Am I So Confident About Gay Mike? Do I Think I Can See The Future? (x)

Women and Bullshit Media Propaganda (x)

Heteronormativity and Troy Pushing Mike (x)

If Mike Was Ever Attracted To El Then What Was The Point Of The Mileven Familial Parallels/References From The Start? (x)

Mike, The Rainbow Jazzercise Sign and George Michael (x)

Mike’s Playlist and Frankie Goes To Hollywood (x)

Mike’s Playlist and Level 42 (x)

Mike’s Playlist, Limahl, and Neverending Story (x)

Mike’s Playlist, Michael, and Franz Ferdinand (x)

Another Gay Vs Bi Mike Ask (x)

More Gay Mike Ranting (x)

Mike, The Sauna, and the Lingerie Store Scene (x)

Initial Post About The Hellfire Club As An Allegory For Queerness (x)

There Is No Actual Mike Will El Love Triangle (x)

Another Rant About Elmike and Gay Mike (x)

Max’s Rainbow Sleeves And Byler (x)

Gay Mike And The Coca Cola Kid (x)

How Gay Can We Write This Guy While Still Having People Think He’s Straight? (x)

Mike’s Expression Towards Dart vs Towards Phoebe Cates (x)

Mike and The Rainbow On The Muppets Movie Poster (x)

Mike Isnt Just Rebounding Into A New Relationship (x)

Mike’s Reaction To “Youve Made It Super Clear” vs to “You Dont Love Me Anymore?” (x)

I Loved You, I Loved All Of You (x)

A Rant About “Will You Be Like My Brother?” (x)

Reblog Regarding Mike’s Lack Of Attraction To Girls (x)

Quit Viewing Mike And His Sexuality Through A Will Lens: They Arent The Same Person (x)

Yet Another Gay Mike and Elmike Rant: Gay Mike Is Actually The Best/Most Amicable Ending For Mileven (x)

We’ve Been Seeing Gay Mike This Whole Time and It Doesnt Need Any Extra Long Winded Explanation (x)

[hcfiles]

I had a realistic dream last night with Henry. In this dream, I interacted with this fantasy couple. But, I'm not describing it here, 'cause it is only significant to me and I give it an interpretation based on MY intuition and observation of the last four years. From MY point of view, the dream was clearly an attempt from my unconsciousness to deny a thought I had had hours before, when watching a post someone had made on the internet.

You believe whatever you want. But, based on the clumsy, disastrous, absurd, biased straight and idiotic strategies his PR team used, and also, on observations of his interviews (old and new), I feel sorry to say, but Henry is probably gay! At least, bi and fighting to hide it. Whoever managed this damage control, if not a woman from his team who wanted to jeopardize Henry - what makes no sense -, it was obviously, a biased straight and narrow-minded male from his team trying to avoid gay rumours about his client.

Because, the only other explanation that suits is that he took this negative reaction from his fandom too personal, was tremendously stubborn and childish, terribly oriented by his team and dealt with it on his own with the help of amateurs. Because this damage control was a disaster! And all their efforts call attention as a huge red flag. During the efforts in applying these disastrous, clumsy and unprofessional damage control strategies - which I, initially thought, could be because of Natalie's rep (But, it's not) -, the entire team job jeopardized his image, most precisely, his Character, with Natalie's help and Henry's approval, because they needed a diversion.

That tells me they think there's something much more damaging to his image, rather than his girlfriend's rep, used as a diversion that exposes him as a jerk, a hypocrite misogynist, and his PR to public execration, as a promiscuous, damaging his Character and gaslighting his fans. Because, Natalie's rep nor will for algorithms do not justify so much effort to the point his team has to clearly destroy his fandom and jeopardize his integrity. Or they do? She's not the first to have skeletons in the closet and be criticized by his fandom. So, why turn this into a circus?

Blind items, surely spread by his team, random comments planted on comment's sessions of fan pages, innumerous paid articles naming Natalie as his date, other planted, paid articles suggesting he treats female colleagues as a jerk would do, the couple's staged public appearances against bad publicity as fuel to fire.... All to build a narrative for attention and algorithms? Ridiculous! It was to sell the straight man stereotype. Why too much trouble to create such a fuss to sell a fake image of a straight man? The idea they were a couple was already planted on people's minds, but that wasn't enough.

They needed to continue illustrating the narrative, creating a future fantasy story of the couple, including a pregnancy, a fake (?) paternity and maybe, a future engagement, putting more fuel to fire to gaslight fans. And, the reason can't be Natalie's rep, only. Unless, he's so ashamed of it thinking it is so bad for his rep, that he has to create a circus to disguise what he feels about it, pretending he gives a f**k in order to defend himself from what HE expected people to think of him for that. A defence that ended up provoking exactly what he was afraid of and wanted to avoid.

His persona was built over years of exposure. But, the first time I realized the man he presented was an AVATAR and that all that straight sex appeal was staged, was in one of the first interviews the crew of TW gave on TV. Henry was clearly - and ridiculously - demonstrating a fake interest in Freya so his team could later, plant comments of his straight bachelor attraction to her and young actresses (what makes me suppose that, if straight, he prefers older women). It was totally planned, staged and he was clearly "following the lead" like a muppet. That was my first deception.

And, to cope with that, the innumerous PR stunts with wannabes and "future known" actresses (status thanks to him). He lends his image and name as escort and they help him sell the fake image of the straight bachelor. It's a "You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours" thing. And that's Natalie's job. But, it is not restricted to sell the straight man image, but also, WH project and its producer as her partner in crime.

[amuppetreference]

number five

type: online, @muppetjokernumberfivefan

status: active

affiliation: the brotherhood

in many ways, five is one of the simplest members of the brotherhood. his most notable trait is his commitment to misogyny, which may have it's origins in his parents divorce and/or his time on 4chan. his zealotry on this subject has started to cause some tension between him and the brotherhood as kj's own views on gender have changed.

five seems to be more sheltered than many of his peers. he hates intellectuals and is startlingly ignorant about pop culture. he was somehow unaware of the existence of harley quinn until recently and has said he does not like the muppets, which any cultured person knows is impossible. he recently tried weed for the first time (correction: he has bought weed for the first time, but has not tried it yet; i recommend he does so soon, as it's a good time and he seems like he needs that) in an effort to get over his hang ups about muppet fucking, although it's unclear if this actually worked. he lives in la with his mother, which we know because he has talked about using her exercise ball to jerk off.

five has described himself as volcel. as he does not want to watch pornography with women in it he has tried to get into mannequin porn despite being afraid of mannequins. again, it's unclear how well this has worked. he is also attracted to the nerds mascot. he also seems to have developed a crush on his nemesis denise, but he will deny it if you confront him about it.

when he's not ranting about women five gives kj some surprisingly sensible advise. he does not believe the brotherhood is powerful enough to take down the catholic church, and advised kj to take four's threat to shit on his doorstep seriously.

many of five's posts about his hatred of women seem to be describing gender dysphoria. we are not in the business of telling strangers how to identify, but we hope he works through whatever is going on there.

[videogayymer]

Do you guys know that interview with David Tennant where he was told that he's number 3 on DILF list? I'll add it in the end. Anyways, it inspired this

👇👇👇👇

On a friday evening at the rec room, the 141 were celebrating a successful mission with Alejandro, Rudy, Farah and Alex. After a few too many pints, Soap finally introduced a list he had gathered from the soldiers around base.

He stood up from his seat at the sofa, turning to look at the room to get everyone's attention. Then, he started, with a balance a bit too off and a smile too wide, "Amongst all of Ghost's accomplishes, you were recently named on the DILF list."

Whistling and cheering erupted in the room, Ghost just looking around confused. "The what??"

Gaz, sneering, leaned closer to him to explain, "DILF stands for 'dad I'd like to fuck'"

"I'm not a dad??" Ghost stated, confused even more, somehow missing the point where he had been put on a list where people have admitted that they'd fuck him.

Soap almost bent in half from the laughter. "Don't have to be, Lt. A DILF can also be any attractive man in his 40s." He laughed a bit more at Ghost's bewildered look before continuing, "anyways, here's the top five: Price -"

"Ooh, he's fit!" Alex interrupted from the table, sitting next to Farah who was trying to hold in another burst of laughter.

Soap continued with the rest of the names, "Nik, Ghost, Alejandro and Rudy. Oh and Graves came in at - "

Ghost's interest finally piqued with that, interrupting Soap immediately, going for a nonchalant tone but failing miserably. "Oh and where did he come in the list?"

More people laughed, Soap having to take a break for a moment to catch his breath. "Graves is number six"

"Number six?" Ghost repeated, a little bit louder so everyone heard.

"Number six," Soap wheezed.

"And where... Just remind me where I am?" Ghost leaned in theatrically.

"Hermano, you're three!" Alejandro shouted from the back with a laugh when Soap was too occupied trying to breathe between laughing.

"Number three," Ghost repeated once again, smugly, leaning back in his seat with a satisfied smile while people whistled and applauded once again.

A door opened loudly, but it didn't stop the soldiers with their drunken laughter.

Price had finally decided to join them after his call with Laswell. "You muppets, what's gotten you so loud?"

"Sorry sir, it's just that -" Gaz tried but couldn't get the words out between his laughing.

"You're number one most fuckable daddy on base!" Soap yelled from across the room with a wheeze, only making people laugh even more.

Price just looked at Soap for a moment, then decided that it was too late for this shit, and walked out.