@an-alarming-amount-of-bees / an-alarming-amount-of-bees.tumblr.com
Had a panic attack at work last night and this clerk noticed and he got really close and said "hey look at me, just you and me" and then kept talking like normal and I looked away again and he stopped and more firmly said "look.at.me." and it made me a lil wet ngl
Yeah this guy blew my back out this morning, follow your dreams everyone
He has decided he's gonna do a fortnite emote after every time we fuck actually maybe reel your dreams in a little
funniest screenshot from the entirety of the Alex Jones trials so far imo
What really elevates this is that's Jones's lawyer.
Every day is a reason to celebrate 🥂🥳
unlimited redemption
we are all searching for unlimited redemption in the beer universe
I know I just restating the point of that post but respecting religious freedom will sometimes require you to respect someone's belief that religious beliefs are categorically untrue, and there are a lot of people who are unable to handle this, and even more people who think they agree with this but haven't really grappled with what it means.
Something that a lot of religious folks don't seem to realize the extent to which non-religious people, more than any other religious minority, are expected to walk on eggshells around other people's beliefs at the expense of their own for the sake of social decorum, in a way which no one else is expected to do with theirs.
To name a bit of an example I have personal experience with. When I was mourning my cousin a couple years ago, I was constantly faced with the situation of people trying to comfort me from a religious perspective.
And whenever this topic comes up, the conversation is always about how "you have to be mindful of their intentions, they're trying to reach out to you and comfort you in the way they know, they're being nice, you have to appreciate the effort they're making, you have to meet them where they're at and appreciate their attempt to help you". Which is what I did, of course. In this situation, replying to their attempt to comfort you with any reminder that you don't believe in this stuff is considered a big social faux-pas that will make you look like an asshole. And to an extent I agree, it can be rude and needlessly combative.
But somethin I feel it's conspicuously absent from any conversation surrounding this type of situation like. Any interrogation of *why* is going "sorry, I don't believe in any of this, this means nothing to me" considered a bigger social faux-pas than trying to comfort a grieving person with religious beliefs you know they don't hold.
Why, even when you're literally grieving, the onus is on you as a non-religious person to be mindful of other's worldviews and tread lightly and meet them where they're at and not contradict what they believe in and never the other way around.
It's also pretty damn infantilising to religious people to be like "oh they are soft uwu babies who can't step back and relate to you and this is the only way they know how to reach out!" No they aren't. Religion doesn't make someone stupid. People who do this are either dicks trying to use your grief to convert you, or they're genuinely well-meaning and caring people to whom it simply hasn't occurred what their words mean because everyone is expected to walk on eggshells around them, and would change their behaviour if it was pointed out the same way that someone using unintentionally insulting language changes their behaviour when it's pointed out. The way "respect people who have different beliefs than you" has turned into "be sure to baby those poor helpless religious people who don't mean to upset you but they just don't know any better and can't learn with their soft sensitive vulnerable religious brains!" is absurd.
Misty autumn.
Fukui, Japan.
tumblr please stop telling me to wd40 a mouse
i gotta remember this
While the Onion buying InfoWars is indeed extremely funny, very few of the posts I've seen commenting on the sale have mentioned that the families of the Sandy Hook victims apparently agreed to voluntarily reduce their lawsuit payout as part of a deal to ensure that the Onion would acquire InfoWars wholesale, rather than having the company broken up and auctioned off piecemeal, as the latter course could potentially have allowed some of those pieces to end up back in the hands of Alex Jones' cronies.
Like, yes, it is in fact very funny that InfoWars is now a wholly own subsidiary of Clickhole, but the real props go out to the Sandy Hook families who saw the opportunity and willingly gave up the additional millions of dollars that could have been realised by stripping InfoWars for parts in order to make that happen.
The families have been saying the whole time it isn't about the money - it was about stopping Jones. And this is the most effective way to stop Jones.
the material + final product
I feel like Bruce Wayne projects the kind of amiable playboy 'fun' vibe that he'd be the type of celebrity that certain interviewers feel comfortable surprising with puppies.
You know the kind of shows I mean.
The late-night talk show situations where they're making benign small talk with their smiling guest, and there's a segment where animals get brought out, usually to talk about some sort of ecological relief effort.
So you're watching your trash TV talk show late at night, and you get to watch billionaire pretty boy Bruce Wayne be begrudgingly talked into holding a (relatively) harmless creature which inevitably gets a lot of delighted shrieks from the audience as it starts being a lot more active than the handler promised. And to his credit, Bruce doesn't flinch, he doesn't freak out. But his eyes are a little wide, and his voice a little tight as the smile on his face takes on a slight rictus quality before he's inevitably rescued by an apologetic handler who is also laughing because they all know there was no real danger, it was just funny to put Bruce, who is an undeniable good sport and already laughing along, out of his comfort zone for the sake of charity.
Meanwhile, up in the Justice League headquarters, several founding members of the League are wondering how fast they can get a fake Oscar award shipped to the space station because fuck off. Absolutely fuck off, Bruce. Where the fuck did he study? Juilliard? (Probably.)
(Clark ends up going to a novelty store during the commercial break. It's faster than trying to get anything shipped, even with the infrastructure Bats built for them. He finds it several days later taped to his console in a conspicuously empty briefing room. It's gaudy and awful, the words "Best Actor" engraved on the plaque. No one's around to see him smile. No one comments when it vanishes. Everyone thinks it's been yeeted out an airlock. Dick absolutely comments when it shows up in the manor, stashed in one of the trophy cases that sprung up for all the bat kids' school awards. Bruce has no idea how it got there. Must have been Alfred. (It was not.))
Anyway, consider, for your amusement, Bruce Wayne getting highjacked on The Gotham Toight Show with a handful of wriggling puppies and, for a split second, not having to pretend he's delighted to be there.
I need you all to know this was in my queue, so it jump scared me when it popped up on my dash, but that I also misread "puppies" as "puppets," and now I'm choking to death on my water imagining Bruce Wayne on a guest panel with Kermit the Frog and Ms. Piggy whose puppeteer is absolutely shooting their shot through the medium of puppetry.
"Bruce Wayne, everyone. What a fantastic guy. All right, don't go anywhere, folks, we'll be right back after the commercial break when we'll be joined by the legendary Kermit the Frog and the effervescent Miss Piggy as they promote their latest movie, The Muppets Take Metropolis!"
The applause is deafening for a moment as the live band behind the podium strikes up a lively tune, ushering them into a commercial break.
"Really, thank you, Bruce," Murray Franklin says over the noise, angling his mouth away from the microphone on his desk. "You couldn't have got me to hold that fucking thing for all the money in the world."
Bruce inclines his head, a benign smile ever in place. "Oh, you know me, Murray. I'll try anything once."
"Well, that sounds promising," says a shrill, familiar. Bruce turns in time to find stagehands working rapid-time to construct a staging area behind the couch. And two humans holding two very distinct puppets aloft. Kermit the Frog and Miss Piggy.
"Hi-ho, Kermit the Frog here." The frog puppet extends a hand toward him, causing a ripple of laughter to go up from the audience. Bruce arches an eyebrow at the puppeteer but reaches out to take the felt-green hand being offered to him. Apparently, he's not supposed to engage with the humans. "This is my companion, Miss Pigathia Lee."
"Mr. Frog," he greets the muppet formally, feeling the first hint of a genuine smile tugging at his mouth. "Charmed to meet both of you. I'm a big fan of your work."
"Oh, gosh! Really?" The Frog gushes, emoting the pure joy Bruce remembers from watching television as a child. "I could say the same to you! All that good work you do for the city! It's really something."
"Thank you." Don't cry, Bruce thinks suddenly. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.
Christ, it's like Mister Rogers telling you you did a good job.
"All right, save it for the camera," Murray interjects good-naturedly, pressing a finger to his ear and listening to whatever the producer is saying on the other end.
"Mr. Wayne?" Bruce turns to find his handler waiting for him, a makeup artist behind him. "Can we ask you to move over for this next part?"
"Of course." Bruce shuffles over. As he leans back, arm stretched out across the back of the couch he realizes what they're doing. They're using his bulk to block the sight of the puppeteers from the angle of the fourth camera. Clever.
He sits placidly as the makeup artist dusts powder over his face, listening to the instructions about how to talk to the muppets. Don't look at the puppeteers, look at the puppets. Treat them like real people. Try to keep it pg-13. Just act natural.
Natural, he thinks, his eyes skirting up to the stage beams and the shadows hovering above them. There's nothing natural about being Bruce Wayne.
"And we're live in five, four, three, two, one..."
The music swells to rising applause, and his smile slips back in place, as firm and solid as his armor. He zones out as Murray goes through the introductions. He's learned that no one minds if Bruce Wayne looks a little checked out at times. Christ, he's tired. He's half tempted not to go on patrol tonight. There's a dull ache building behind his eyes, and his ribs still hurt from getting hit with a crowbar. He hopes Dick is all right. Last night's patrol had been hard on both of them, hard enough that Dick had to miss school and spend the day in bed. Though he'd gotten up before Bruce left, adamant that he wanted to watch him make a fool of himself on television. He hopes no one else is watching. He hopes there's a mild disaster happening somewhere, and he won't have to listen to Clark ribbing him about how good he is with children and animals. Again. It's like being made fun of by a slice of apple pie.
Slowly, he becomes aware of the presence beside him. Bruce looks down to find Miss Piggy staring up at him, snout turned upward, head tilted in a manner that heavily suggests flirtation. Oh God
"Not that you have anything to worry about, Mister Wayne," the high, piping voice of Kermit the Frog informs him. "Gotham's far too damp for us Muppets to want to take over Wayne Tech, too."
Bruce smiles. He's vaguely aware of the plot of The Muppets Take Metropolis. Something about taking over LexCorp. He's surprised Luthor green-lit it. The other billionaire is normally so precious about being taken seriously.
"Oh, I don't know about that, there are lots of nice swamps around here," he says, gaze still on the amorous pig puppet inching closer to him. "Mud baths, too."
"Really?" Miss Piggy drawls, flicking her blonde wig over her shoulder, much to the amusement of the audience. "And are any of these mud baths on Wayne ground?"
He can't help but smile properly at that, mouth crooking to the side. He supposes he should have seen this coming. "Oh, yes," he says, inflecting the famous Bruce Wayne charm into his voice. "More than you can shake a stick at."
When the puppet's hand comes to rest its hand on his arm, his laughter is genuine. This might be the surrealist fucking thing that's happened to him in a while. And that's saying something because he got dosed with fear toxin last week.
"Now, Brucie," Miss Piggy drawls, "Don't tempt a girl with a good time."
Some absurd instinct makes him angle his body toward the muppet, smiling down at it like a real person. "Oh, Piggy Lee, you should know I never tempt. I can call you, Piggy Lee, can't I?"
"Honey, you can call me a cab because I'm ready! Let's skedaddle!"
"Well, how about that!" Murray exclaims, drawing the attention back to him as the audience loses it. "Kermit, he's trying to steal your girl!"
The Frog turns to look at him, to Miss Piggy, then back to Bruce. "Y'know something, Murray, I don't mind. Say, Bruce, are, uh, are any of those swamps nearby?"
Oh, he's never going to live this one down.
***
"So what's it like?" Clark asks, tone deceptively neutral.
"What's what like?" Batman asks, tone sliding like gravel over sheet metal.
"Meeting the Muppets?"
He thinks about it. "Surprisingly hard to look at the humans."
Clark nods sagely. "I've heard that."
The amount of psychic damage I'm taking from the tag "Bruce Wayne Muppet Threesome" is not insignificant, but I suppose I had it coming.
Also, because I might as well ride this crackfic into the Lazarus Pit:
The Muppets eventually do make a film with Gotham in it. The premise starts not unlike the other Muppet movies, where the Muppets are fractured, and Kermit is trying to get the gang back together. For this, he must travel around the US, finding the location of the other Muppets.
When the time comes to find Miss Piggy, the screen cuts to Wayne Manor, the other Muppets standing outside the imposing iron gates.
"Well, we tried," Rizzo intones nasally, already walking off. Gonzo catches him around the neck, hauling him back.
"Where are you going?"
"Home! What, you think she's going to leave Bruce Wayne?"
Kermit's face goes through numerous stages of grief before squaring into the kind of grim determination that can only happen when you have a fist for a jaw. "We have to try," the Frog affirms, then stoically presses the gate buzzer.
The scene cuts to inside the manor, where Miss Piggy is shown lounging on an opulent chaise, surrounded by immense wealth and luxury. Empty bottles of champagne everywhere and an inordinate amount of food. It's clear there was a party last night. She is dressed not unlike Debbie from the Addams family, her face covered by a fluffy pink eyemask embroidered in gold thread that reads "Wake Me In Paris" in gaudy, swirling font. In the background, a picture of Bruce Wayne and Miss Piggy can be seen on a table. The frame is neon pink and shaped like a heart. Bruce looks happier than he's ever done in his entire life. (Probably because he couldn't stop cracking up when it was being taken.)
There's a knock at the door, and she wakes with a snort, ripping away the eyemask. "What?" she demands harshly before correcting herself into a more ladylike twinkle. "I mean, who is it?"
Alfred appears as firm and imperious as ever. Perfectly straight-faced. "Forgive me, madame, but we appear to have a common rabble at the door."
"So? Release the hounds. Brother, do I have to think of everything around here?"
Alfred clears his throat, the slightest twitch of a smile on his face. It's gone before the camera can narrow in on it. "It appears they are friends of yours, madame. Ah, one Mister Kermit the Frog and, um, associates."
"Kermi!" she exclaims before she can stop herself. "I mean, uh, very well, send them in."
The Muppets traipse into the opulent room, googly eyes roaming everywhere in astonishment. "Wow," Gonzo breathes.
"Food!" Rizzo exclaims, lunging toward the comestibles and shoving his face into a bowl.
Gonzo hauls him back, glancing at Alfred apologetically. "Sorry.
But Kermit only has eyes for Ms Piggy. "You look well, Pigathia," he says solemn and sincere.
"I do? I mean, of course, I do." She harumphs, turning her back on him. "How could I not? I'm only the wealthiest pig in the world." She turns back, expression coy over her shoulder. "What do you want?"
"Well, we're trying to get the old gang back together. Our old theaters being shut down, and I just thought that maybe one last show might--"
"That's why you're here. For the show?"
Kermit takes a deep, shuddering breath. "No. That's not why I'm here. Gosh darnit, Piggy Lee, I want you back. I love you, and I know deep down" -- "way down," Rizzo supplies before getting elbowed -- "that you love me too."
She turns slowly. As though drawn by some invisible string. Her expression falls. "I do. I did. Once upon a time. But Kermi... Bruce takes care of me."
"I'll say--" "Rizzo!"
She carries on as if the others hadn't spoken. "I know you love me. But I also know I'll only ever be second best to the show. With Bruce," she sighs dreamily. "He's rich, handsome, and most importantly, dumb as a rock. I'm the most important pig in town. I'm practically running the joint. You really think I'm going to give up all this." She gestures around the grandeur. "For a penniless Frog who can't see past the next show?"
"Well..." Kermit hesitates, face falling. "Yes. I guess... I guess I did."
Gonzo and Rizzo share a look. "I think we better go," Gonzo says, placing a consoling hand on Kermit's shoulder. "Come on, guys. It was nice seeing you again, Piggy."
"Yeah, real nice," Rizzo intones, shoving as much food into his pockets as his little rat hands can grab.
Kermit shakes himself. "No. I refuse to believe it! This isn't you, Piggy Lee. You might think it is, but it isn't. All this wealth, the silk robes, the fancy food. I know you, Piggy Lee; I know you better than anyone, and you're not this shallow. You're a performer, a star. You were made to be loved by the stage. Not just some... some billionaire playboy who can give you whatever you want whenever you want. I have to believe that because otherwise, what the heck has it all been for? What have we been for? So what do you say, Pigathia? Will you come home? Come back to the show where you belong. For me?"
There's a long, heavy pause, and Miss Piggy sighs.
The following scene cuts to the Muppets flailing down the Wayne Manor driveway, yelling comically as several snarling rottweilers chase them.
"And stay out!" Miss Piggy yells after them. When she turns back to Alfred, she resumes her ladylike poise. "Alfie, be a dear and tell Brucie I'll be home late tonight. Mama's got some shopping to do."
"Very good, Madame."
She eventually shows up at the Muppet show at the last minute to save the day, a happy, bumbling Bruce tagging beside her. Later, when the Muppets are all on stage, the human protagonists, who are in the audience and seated next to Bruce, remark, "Wow, I can't believe they raised the money to save the theater!"
"They didn't," Bruce says with a small, knowing smile. His gaze turns to Miss Piggy adoringly, sighing wistfully. "But I just can't say no to that pig."
Henceforth it becomes Muppet canon that Miss Piggy and Bruce Wayne are in a heated on-again-off-again relationship. Neither Kermit nor Bruce seems to mind each other, leading to an episode of Sesame Street several years down the line where Elmo explains that sometimes a child can have one mommy and no daddy, or one daddy and no mommy, or have one daddy and one mommy, or two daddys and no mommies or vice versa, and sometimes if you're the Wayne kids, a daddy, a frog, and a pig.
Bruce will never live it down, but it's worth it. Letting the Muppets into his life is possibly the best longcon of his life. Who the fuck is going to believe he's Batman now? No one. Not even the butts matching can hold up to him being Miss Piggy and Kermit's sidepiece.
