alexmaybe

[alexmaybe]

[alexmaybe]

A meeting of dragons.

[alexmaybe]

For science!!!!

(Please reblog if you vote! :D )

[alexmaybe]

Reblog if its ok to spam you with boops

[alexmaybe]

Let's play hide and seek?

[alexmaybe]

There's a stereotype that USAmericans tolerate very long car rides.

[alexmaybe]

never let anyone tell you that trawling through mediocre victorian poetry isn't worth it. we just happened upon an absolute BANGER of a worm poem. go read it or else 🪱🪱🪱

[alexmaybe]

If you see this on your dashboard, reblog this, NO MATTER WHAT and all your dreams and wishes will come true.

[alexmaybe]

[alexmaybe]

All the little angels (how do they rise up) by Terry Pratchett

[alexmaybe]

in the muppet version of the untamed, jin guangyao is definitely the only human character in the central cast

kermit is lan wangji, because it is imperative that his nephew is lan sizhui. sam the eagle can be lan qiren. lan xichen can be played by one of the guys in the band, i feel like at least one of them is a stoner.

miss piggy is either jiang cheng or nie mingjue, but jiang cheng is probably funnier

bunsen is xiao xingchen, beaker is song lan.

fozzie is probably a better fit for nie huaisang, but in my heart, he's played by the swedish chef

gonzo is wei wuxian. rizzo is wen ning, specifically after he becomes a fierce corpse.

statdler and waldorf are sect leaders yao and ouyang

[alexmaybe]

KISSINGER FINALLY DROPPED DEAD

[alexmaybe]

okay so picture this.

You're a man named Jim Steinman. You are one of the most prolific songwriters of the 80s. In your spirit, output and essence, you are eternally popping a wheelie on a motorcycle while a hot half-naked woman clings to you and bats wheel in the sky above.

You wrote a song in which Meatloaf plays a hideously disfigured hunk who steals a nubile lady back to his crumbling manor and introduces her to the pleasures of magic lesbian group sex.

You wrote a song in which Celine Dion sings as Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights, dancing with Cathy's corpse on a beach in the moonlight; a scene which you, Jim Steinman, believe should have been in the book. (The moors of Wuthering Heights are landlocked, but you, Jim Steinman, are too fucking real to care about that.)

You wrote the song for the opening scene of the movie Streets of Fire, in which evil leatherdaddy Willem Dafoe leads his malefic motorcycle crew into a concert to abduct Diane Lane while she's wearing a skintight satin jumpsuit.

You wrote a song in which Bonnie Tyler wanders a haunted boarding school as literal demon twinks gyrate at her out of the fog.

There is no peak of goth camp that you, Jim Steinman, have not summited, no horny energy you have not tapped. They say that Alexander the Great wept when he saw there were no more worlds to conquer. But you, Jim Steinman, are not Alexander the Great. You, Jim Steinman, are better. You, Jim Steinman, have vision.

You take your most successful song, the song everyone knows, the most big-haired, white dress, gothic arches, doves flying, possessed choir boys chanting, bombastic song you have, and think: what if this, but with vampires.

And so you change the lyrics to be about death and infinity and a powerful bloodsucking lord seducing a girl who is ALL ABOUT IT, and then toss off a whole musical for this song to be the centerpiece to, and the musical is bad but it's also a weird hit that's been staged in fourteen countries and revived seven times, because nothing has ever whipped as campily, as ridiculously, as perfectly as this:

It never takes off in America. A prophet is without honor in his own land. But that doesn't matter. How could it matter? You are perhaps the most creatively self-actualized man who has ever lived. Look at that vampire. He's coming in hot and a hundred Venetian nuns gave their lives to make his ludicrously capacious lace sleeves. Look at that girl. She was born in a fog machine. She wore her best red velvet cape. She's down bad. She's singing Total Eclipse of the Heart the whole time.

You are Jim Steinman, and you have reached apotheosis.

[alexmaybe]

[alexmaybe]

being a member of the gotham bar for more than two years automatically disqualifies you from practicing law anywhere else in the united states except bludhaven. you can appear pro hac vice in metropolis, under very specific circumstances, but everyone else involved in the case, including witnesses, jurors, and court staff has to sign an injury waiver and agree that your presence is not itself grounds for a mistrial.

gotham v hellmouth is a landmark case in many areas. the most notable is, as referenced above, guaranteeing an individual's right to privacy as to whether they have been mystically coerced into a life of crime, but it also led to a crackdown on people selling knowingly ineffective protective amulets, rituals, wards, and similar metaphysical implements and techniques. and, of course, it finally codified once and for all that merely living in gotham is not proof of criminal intent.

gun to my head if I had to write a story about Two-Face the premise would be that Harvey’s totally reformed, 100% in the clear, genuinely 0 interest in crime or murder, so he goes back to practicing law. but Two-Face is still there and ALSO practicing law so Harvey is like this upstanding lawyer working pro bono for various charities and nonprofits and what have you and then Two-Face is like a sleezy ambulance chaser taking out HUGE obnoxious billboards all over Gotham and recording the worst local commercials you have EVER seen. they share an office and work on alternating days. the POV character of this miniseries is the shared secretary who has to keep both of their schedules straight and the climax involves Harvey and Two-Face somehow legally being allowed to represent two different people who are suing each other

[alexmaybe]

no, but this is perfect, the Joker is taken out by a puppet and it's his own fault. because the Joker, in his quest to escape death, boredom, and the consequences of his actions, has successfully convinced the universe that he lives under cartoon rules. he doesn't significantly grow or change, for the same reason that bugs bunny and daffy duck don't, and in exchange, he cannot be killed or permanently impaired by anyone operating under reality rules. he can only be permanently defeated if it's funny.

so in comes the muppet and the muppeteer, and they already occupy a kind of liminal space between reality and cartoon, and there's the Joker warping the rules of the universe around him, and it's the perfect set-up. the Joker has been wandering around gotham for years, looking for his punchline, and he's about to get it straight to the face.

not only does miss piggy defeat the Joker, she might be the only one who could.

The only thing I need from the BatMuppet story that I didn't get yet is the HIIIIIIII-YA moment where Miss Piggy karate chops Bruce Wayne.

And has no idea the significance of doing so.

Oh, no, no. She doesn't do it to Bruce. She does it to the Joker.

They're at a televised charity gala, making the rounds. All the usual glitz and glam. Miss Piggy has just left to powder her snout when the shooting starts, and cries to "get down on the ground now!" reverberate through the room. It's almost half expected that the night is going to end in a hostage situation. It's Gotham, for Christ's sake. But no one's expecting the Joker. He's supposed to be in Arkham. The Bats just put him there. He shouldn't be out already.

Bruce is stalling for time, trying to give the Boy Wonder and all his other kids time to get to them. He's stammering, hands in the air, offering to pay whatever the Joker wants if he'll let all these people go. Except the Joker doesn't take ransoms. He barely takes prisoners. And he's got a gun aimed squarely at Bruce Wayne's forehead.

But Bruce keeps trying, inching forward on his knees, hands behind his head. Trying to figure out how much he can get away with in a room full of all these fucking cameras. He's going to get shot. He already knows it. It's just a question of whether he can duck and make sure it goes through his shoulder and not his head. Christ, he fucking hates guns.

"Come on," Bruce says, trying his hardest to sound both scared and amenable. "Everyone has a price. Name yours."

The Joker laughs, gesturing grandly with his free hand. "Tell you what, Brucie-boy, you'll get a price when pigs fly!"

The sound of enraged hoofs striking off marble makes itself known. A deep, guttural squeal tears through the night. The kind that hunters of old knew the fear and keep at the end of a long spear. The Joker turns just in time to see Miss Piggy flying through the air. Eyes red. Tusks bared. Hand raised. "HIIIIIII-YA!"

Jim Gordon's outside, preparing to launch a frontal assault, when the news comes in over the radio. He listens, shouldering the radio against his ear as he pulls a cigarette case out of his pocket. "To shreds, you say? What about the henchmen? To shreds, you say..."