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Cats N Comics

@catsncomics

The musings of an übernerd
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unpretty

tim drake’s snapchat is 90% him making bruce wayne do normal middle-class american things and filming the results. popular youtube compilations include the one where they’re at denny’s at two in the morning and tim keeps trying to get bruce to order a moon over my hammy just so he’ll have to say it, the one where they’re at disneyworld and bruce gets increasingly frazzled culminating in him actually physically picking up gaston for reasons no one can entirely recall, and everyone’s favorite series “bruce wayne doesn’t understand walmart”

having thought about it the best part is probably when a pranking fails because bruce has such a bizarre patchwork of knowledge/skills and it does not occur to him to hide most of it. tim puts a ghost pepper in bruce’s food but bruce just eats it like nothing is wrong. the same thing happens with the chocolate-covered crickets. it turns out bruce can lick his own elbow. bruce can lasso a runaway robot lawnmower like it’s a calf at a rodeo. whenever tim expresses shock that bruce knows how to do something he says “i did go to college, tim” as if that explains anything and it becomes a meme. whenever anyone does something fucking absurd it just gets tagged “i did go to college, tim”.

The camera came uncomfortably close to the face of a man ignoring it. He was very good at it. He was reading a book about, of all things, the history of denim. It was not the sort of book that made it easy to ignore cameras, but he remained stoic.

The caption said helpfully: [been doing this for 30 mins]

“Bruce. Bruce. Bruce. We need to go Walmart. Bruce. I need it.”

“Ask Alfred.”

→→→

“It’s a surprise for Alfred.”

“You can’t surprise Alfred.”

“Bruce, please.”

→→→

“It’s not a matter of permission, I’m saying you literally can’t surprise Alfred.”

→→→

[he hates when i say that]

“Bruuuuce.”

“No.”

“This is bullroar.”

Bruce finally set down his book with an expression of the most profound disgust.

→→→

[oh no now we’ll be here all day]

“—either curse or don’t, just commit one way or the other instead of—”

→→→

The camera took its time panning over a black BMW.

“Can I drive?”

“No.”

→→→

[after this he took away my music privileges]

Bruce was driving, looking stoic again. His face lent itself well to stoicism. The radio played, at high volume, “Sandstorm” by Darude.

→→→

“I’ll play something different this time.”

“You had your chance and you blew it on a meme.”

→→→

[SJGJDH;FUKC 😂😂😂]

“I’m boooored.”

“Hi, bored,” Bruce said, eyes still on the road, and Tim groaned loudly. “I don’t give a shit.”

The view shifted and audio clattered as Tim dropped the phone, barking a laugh.

→→→

The phone was wobbly as Tim followed Bruce into the store. “Can I get a trampoline?” he asked, camera pointed to one outside the store.

“We have three trampolines.”

“But I want that one.”

→→→

They were in the chip aisle. “Have you ever had a Dorito? One Dorito? In your whole life?”

“I am a person. I eat food for people.”

→→→

The camera followed a bag of Nacho Cheese Doritos into the cart.

“We’re not getting those.”

“We need to get sour cream, too.”

“No.”

“You’ll love it.”

“No.”

→→→

Tim had put the seatbelt of the cart’s seat, intended for toddlers, around a giant plastic jar of orange cheese puffs.

“I thought you were getting something for Alfred.”

“I’m getting groceries while we’re here.”

“None of this is food.”

→→→

[$3 pickles blowing his mind rn]

Bruce was holding a gallon jar of pickles with an expression of incredulity.

“—costs extra to not waste food?”

“It’s Walmart.”

“Even taking into account the economies of scale—”

→→→

[putting his degree to use in the pickle aisle]

“—it just makes no sense even as a loss leader, unless the goal is to drive the competition out of business and hope they don’t go bankrupt in the—”

→→→

[i think he’s buying a pickle company??]

Bruce had every appearance of furiously texting on his phone, or possibly composing emails.

→→→

[lmao he did]

Bruce was now on his phone, looking impassive as ever as he contemplated the giant jar of pickles.

“—the business itself is perfectly sound. Yes. Obviously. Dead serious. Look, if you—”

→→→

Tim put a gallon jug of ranch dressing into the cart.

“Absolutely not.”

→→→

Tim was in the frozen section, his reflection visible in the glass.

“I bet Alfred would love some pizza rolls.”

“Your lies demean us both, Tim.”

→→→

Bruce was standing in the toy aisle, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I understand the concept of blind boxes perfectly well, thank you.”

“Then why are you acting confused?”

Why does Thomas the Tank Engine—”

→→→

[🌈🌈🌈]

Bruce was making a face of disgruntled bafflement at a display of baby clothes.

“—disturbed by the amount of aggressive heterosexuality being foisted on these babies.”

“Yeah,” Tim agreed. “What about the gay babies?”

“I can’t tell if you’re joking but I’m unironically concerned.”

→→→

[gotham pride]

The camera panned over a display of hero-themed hats. Most of the Batman hats had sold out, while the Superman display was nearly full. It panned back to Bruce, who was taking a picture with his own phone.

“Who you texting it to?”

“Friend in Metropolis.”

“Metropolis sucks.”

“Yes. Yes it does.”

→→→

[no escape]

The camera peered out slowly from behind a clothing display. Bruce was surrounded by enthusiastic and friendly women. It was impossible to tell what they were talking about.

→→→

[???]

Bruce was holding a dress up against himself. The women around him seemed delighted and were nodding their approval.

→→→

[i’ll strike while he’s distracted]

Tim dropped another two four-movie collections of Shrek on top of the considerable pile he’d already amassed. He panned up to check that Bruce had not caught him before grabbing another.

→→→

[busted]

While Bruce put DVDs back on the shelf, Tim surreptitiously grabbed a Shrek coloring book.

→→→

[he’s gonna get a fish]

Bruce was frowning at the wall of fishtanks in silence. Finally he said, “These fish are very unhealthy.”

→→→

[HE’S BUYING ALL THE FISH]

The man attempting to help Bruce looked baffled. Bruce gestured to the entire display of fish with a nod. The man shook his head. Tim brought his phone close to a betta, blue and red with a tattered and graying tail.

“We’re here to save you,” Tim stage-whispered to it.

→→→

Bruce was now engrossed in conversation with multiple employees.

“—if I bought some tanks — they’re much too small but as a temporary measure — we could transfer them directly and it might be less distressing for the fish.”

“Maybe I could get one of the big dolly carts from the back?” one young man suggested.

→→→

The low camera angle suggested Tim was trying to be surreptitious.

“—for trying to unionize is completely against the law,” Bruce was saying, his voice low. He was helping three other employees transfer fish into large plastic tanks.

“At-will employment,” one woman said.

“We’d have to prove that was why they fired us,” someone clarified. “Otherwise they can say it was for no reason.”

“You’re shitting me.”

→→→

“—fucking with my hours hoping I’ll quit.”

“What? Why?”

“If they fired me, they’d have to pay unemployment.”

“That’s why they won’t let me work full-time.”

“What the fuck.”

→→→

[omg he’s stealing the employees now]

“—in Gotham, but there’s more opportunities outside of manufacturing if you’re willing to move.”

“Wait, so do you mean like for management?”

“No, no, that’s the starting wage for someone working assembly, quality control, that kind of thing. We’re all unionized, none of this at-will bullshit.”

“So if I—”

→→→

The woman from earlier was showing Bruce her phone while the others continued moving fish.

“You painted this?” Bruce asked. She nodded. “That’s fantastic. Are you showing it anywhere? I know a guy with a gallery — actually I know pretty much everyone with an art gallery in Gotham. I think I have a friend who’d really love this, if you don’t mind me making some calls for you.”

→→→

Four more employees had joined the menagerie.

“—almost always hiring in Gotham. People are always moving to cities with fewer evil clowns.” Everyone laughed. Tim snorted. “Employee insurance totally covers acts of supervillainy, though.”

→→→

[trying to crush the revolution]

The employees had not dispersed. In the distance, someone managerial was talking to Bruce. He looked much less amused than Bruce did.

→→→

[THEY CALLED THE COPS]

Tim had switched to the selfie camera, his face pure glee. He turned bodily to show the employees wheeling out tanks of fish out of the store, police lights in the parking lot.

“The manager tried to make Bruce leave but he insisted on paying for his fish and he wouldn’t stop giving people better jobs so the guy said it was corporate espionage and threatened to call the cops and Bruce called his bluff so he did it.”

→→→

[WE’RE BANNED FROM WALMART FOREVER]

Bruce was laughing with the police officers about something. The manager from earlier had been joined by men in suits. None of them looked happy. Some of the employees from earlier were yelling and flipping them off. One man pulled off the shirt of his uniform and started setting it on fire.

→→→

Bruce was on the phone in the parking lot.

“They’re small, most of them are tropical. You can figure out what they are when you get here. How is that racist? I’m not suggesting you already know them, I’m well aware you don’t personally know every single fish—”

→→→

“Either you take these fish or I toss them in the sewer and Killer Croc can eat them. It will be a merciful death compared to what they were getting. It doesn’t matter where I found them.”

→→→

[i’m not allowed near toxic waste]

Tim held the betta from earlier in front of his phone, bringing it dangerously close to Bruce’s face. Bruce had hung up, but seemed to be dialing another number.

“I’m keeping this one,” Tim said.

“Fine.”

“If I drop him in toxic waste do you think he’ll get powers?”

“We’ve already had this discussion.”

→→→

[the pettiest man in gotham]

Bruce was on the phone again, looking out at the empty field beside the Walmart parking lot.

“Yeah, just buy the whole thing. Yeah. Absolutely sure. Green Market’s doing good, we’ll build another one of those. Can we put up a billboard while it’s under construction? A really big billboard.”

→→→

“First of all, if it’s in writing, it’s libel. Second, figures taken directly from their report to shareholders aren’t defamatory. What’s the most they could even sue me for? See, that’s nothing. Bad PR for them, good for us, it's—”

→→→

Tim had switched to the selfie camera again, and was using a sparkling purple filter that made his eyes look huge. He backed into Bruce so that Bruce’s face would be in the shot. “Bruce, look! You’re a pretty pretty princess!”

Bruce raised an eyebrow as he looked at his face on the screen. “I’m always a pretty princess,” he said seriously.

→→→

[he picked the music this time]

Bruce was driving again. He was listening to 100 Little Curses without any apparent irony. This did not mean there wasn’t any irony.

→→→

[i named him wally]

The Walmart betta was now in a tank that held at least a hundred gallons. His underwater castle was resplendent. His tail had grown in, a shimmering gradient of red and blue. Bruce could be seen in the background through the tank, sitting on the couch and reading a book.

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Anonymous asked:

i always thought chris and damian's potential friendship could be a lot more interesting than jon and damian. the fact that the origin of chris did not prevent clark from considering him his son could create amusing dynamic with damian's early life views "blood matters, adoption is not" instead, we've been receiving a narrative "supersons are the only real children of superman and batman" from dc for years 😒

i've been wanting to ramble for an obnoxiously long time about about all the issues i have with jon, especially as he relates to chris, his relationship with damian & just… this whole recent shift toward focusing more and more on biological relationships for a while now, so i'm gonna take this ask as an opportunity to just get it out of my system

this is about to be an absolute BEHEMOTH of a post. like seriously, apologies in advance for how absurdly long it's about to be lol

this was/is my biggest issue with both Supersons & jon as a concept even before i really got into superman comics, and jesus christ. it is SO much worse when you go back and see everything that was scrapped to try and make way for jon, and nowhere is that more true than with chris. the absolutely insane amounts of potential just deleted for seemingly no other reason than wanting to give clark a biological son instead of an adopted one WILL make you want to strangle someone

seriously, i know most people are probably at least vaguely aware chris existed, but i don't feel like enough people know enough about him to realize just how fucking criminal him being replaced with jon really was. i certainly didn't, anyway. all i really knew was that lois & clark already had an adopted son pre-flashpoint, which was already enough to make the optics of deleting him in favor of the biokid not great, but it's sooooo much more annoying than that

not to be dramatic, but having a character of this caliber sitting right the fuck there (with a final appearance pre-flashpoint that was literally just setup to make him as easy as possible for future writers to bring back) but deciding to delete him in favor of a character as painfully generic as jon kent should count as some sort of crime against humanity

(and this is all without even getting into arguably the worst part about him being erased (and then brought back but evil & with a different name), which is that chris was co-created by richard donner & named christopher as a tribute to christopher reeve. dc what the fuck is wrong with you)

but it's ESPECIALLY frustrating since one of jon's main claims to fame is being the super to damian's bat. you could not have created a more perfect counterpart to damian wayne than christopher kent if you'd tried

this character was made for damian, and i really might mean that literally. after spiraling down this rabbit hole, i'm pretty convinced damian & chris were originally created as a set. like... did you know they were introduced at the same time? because, again, i know i certainly didn't

but we'll circle back around to that in a minute because all the weird connections & suspiciously convenient timing aside, intentional or not, they were an absolute goldmine of potential, plotwise and thematically

either dc just made characters that perfectly mirrored each other by complete accident & missed a hell of an opportunity by failing to notice it OR it was intentional and they just decided to throw it all out in favor of replacing chris with creativity void that is jon because... a biological son seemed more appealing? and/or easily marketable/adaptable? i'm honestly not sure which is worse lol

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broosepayne

thinking about when Alfred and Tim found a fox and her kits in the Batcave and Alfred went and got the babies some food and served it to them in little crystal dishes

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Chest Wound

Self-indulgent Dick and Batdad!Bruce gen hurt/comfort ahead.

It was impossible to tell what time it was without a clock, the den was so guarded from natural light. The only glow in the room was from the television, which had been playing episodes of Brooklyn 99 in a steady stream; every fourth episode Dick had to press a button to confirm that he was still watching.

Anything beyond that required moving, and moving was something Dick did not want, for once in his life. Every muscle and joint was sore and shifting around on the couch sent ribbons of tender, bruised pain curling around his bones. Plus, the concussion, which made standing up a giant mistake.

Alfred had been checking on him every so often and Damian had been all but drugged to sleep after his anxious and defensive hovering was making everyone more tense. He’d been ushered upstairs with a, “I swear I’m fine, Little D,” and a begrudging acceptance that Dick would still be there when he woke up. Toxin and tampered cycle brakes and a brick building had made sure he’d be staying at the Manor for a couple more days at the very least.

But it had been an entire episode and a half since he’d seen anyone and Dick had already swung from appreciating the solitude to wishing he’d not helped send Damian to bed, or that Alfred would stop in again and pretend to do housework to stay, or that Bruce would just come back from wherever the hell he’d disappeared to over two days ago.

Dick was on the verge of sitting up enough to get his charging phone to confirm his suspicion that it was early morning, after another long night of barely being able to sleep, when the door opened and a shadow intercepted the hall light. It fell across the couch and coffee table, long and gray.

A moment later, it moved into the room and he knew without turning that it was Bruce.

“Hey,” he mumbled from the couch, twisting his head just slightly to see Bruce’s face as he stood at the end of the couch with his eyes locked on the television.

“Hey,” Bruce said, long seconds later, pulling his attention to Dick. He looked exhausted and Dick had a worrisome hunch. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” Dick said wearily. “Did you just get back?”

Bruce was watching the TV again, like he was trying to figure it out. He nodded slowly and then took the spot on the couch next to Dick.

“They’re in jail,” he said, exhaling and letting his head drop against the couch.

“What?” Dick asked, blinking. He turned down the volume on the TV with the remote by his hand.

“The gang. The ones working with Croc.”

“All of them?” Dick asked, startled. It hadn’t been a small group, which is one of the reasons he’d been distracted and in a hurry enough to leave his cycle vulnerable. “When did you sleep last?”

“All,” Bruce confirmed, rubbing a hand over his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Does it matter? I took care of it.”

The sound of Brooklyn 99 dialogue that Dick wasn’t even following filled the den and he watched the screen a bit listlessly. He was regretting not taking Alfred up on the sedative offer because it was already making him feel like a hypocrite and he hadn’t even actually argued with Bruce yet.

“Of course it matters,” he said lamely. He didn’t know what to follow it with.

“They could have killed you,” Bruce said. He looked like he was just lounging on the couch but Dick had known him long enough to notice the telltale signs: white knuckles, balls of feet on floor instead of flat, the measured breathing.

“So, what’s new?” Dick asked, going for light-hearted. It might have worked, too, if his voice wasn’t so tight with pain and if Bruce hadn’t been clearly running on no sleep in god knew how long, probably a full day or more before he’d hauled Dick back to the Cave.

“It’s not a joke, Dick,” Bruce snapped. His demeanor was all hard anger but it faltered and with the TV on, Dick barely heard him add, “I don’t want to lose you.”

“I don’t want to lose you, either,” Dick said. It flew out of his mouth before he thought, tinged faintly with indignant temper. Bruce actually looked at him that time, his red-rimmed and shadowed eyes just slightly startled. “I’m here. I’m alive. There are always going to be more fucking criminals, but what do we do if you’re so exhausted one of them gets lucky? Then what?”

“You’d survive,” Bruce said evenly, after a pause that drew on and on and on.

“I don’t want to survive,” Dick hissed, partly in anger and partly in pain when he shifted so he was angled away from Bruce. He turned the volume back up, louder than it had been before. “I want to come home and see you, not your damned grave.”

The plot he wasn’t even following and only vaguely remembered resolved, he jammed the button to confirm he was watching, and the next episode got through the cold open and the credits before he felt a warm hand on the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce said, his fingers kneading the stiff muscles right above Dick’s shoulders. Dick wanted to hold on to his anger but it was hard when some of the ache was leaching out of him. “I know you’re an adult. But it’s hard for me to not take care of you, still.”

“It’s fine,” Dick said, when the brief massage ended and Bruce left his hand there, a comforting weight. He was trying hard not to cry, so he didn’t turn to look at him. He paused the show. “Just sometimes, I wish you could take care of yourself instead of locking people up. It’s fucking terrifying being stuck here while you’re out without backup, backup I know you won’t call for after someone gets hurt because you’d so goddamned determined to make sure you’re the only one who suffers. It’s like penance for something that’s not even your fault.”

The entire time he was talking, Bruce didn’t move.

“Dick,” he said, his voice weirdly small in the silence of the room.

“What,” Dick snapped. He was still sitting with his back partially to Bruce, glaring at the other end of the couch. He remembered Tim sulking once in this room, his arms crossed and a dark little scowl on his face, and he felt exactly the same.

An arm went around his shoulders and he was crying before he’d even decided to turn and return the hug, which he did with barely a second’s hesitation. So much for sulking.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce said into his hair and Dick felt about a zillion times too old for it, but he didn’t pull back. “I don’t want to put you through that again, either. You’re right.”

The ache in his bones was minimal compared to the weight lifting from his chest. “I love you,” Dick said, the words hoarse. “Damian and Alfred and the rest of them do, too.”

“I know,” Bruce said, with a tired sigh. “I’m slowly resigning myself to the fact. I…I love you, too, chum.”

Dick laughed, something between a sob and a hiccup, and he shoved at Bruce’s chest. “When did you eat last, assuming Al didn’t force feed you already?”

“I’ll go make a sandwich. Need anything?”

With a shake of his head, Dick curled up on the couch again with his arms around his legs. “A milkshake. But I don’t need one.”

He started the show again after Bruce had left, feeling worn out but too tired to fight the steroids in his system and sleep. Long minutes ticked by and he sort of hoped that Bruce would come back and hoped he’d just gone to bed.

Right as the episode was ending, Bruce returned with a plate of sandwiches in one hand and a chocolate milkshake in the other. He handed it wordlessly to Dick and sat back down.

“What are we watching?”

“Comedy,” Dick said, accepting the milkshake with a small grin. “You’re going to hate it but it’ll be good for you. I swear I won’t tell anyone if you laugh.”

“Then I should laugh enough to make it hard for you to keep that promise,” Bruce said, with a crooked smirk. “It’ll be a good challenge.”

“I’ll find a loophole,” Dick said, skipping the end credits. “Just watch.”

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debrides

I worked with toddlers and pre schoolers for three years. Sometimes I accidentally slip and tell a friend to say bye to an inanimate object (“say bye bus!”) & occasionally they unthinkingly just do it.

I’m glad there’s a teacher version of “accidentally called teacher ‘mom’”

when I worked at Medieval Times occasionally I would slip in real life and call people “my lord”

One time during family prayer, dad began: “our father who art in heaven, American Airlines, how can I help you?”

One time my dad went to the White Castle drive-thru and the lady (who was supposed to say ‘Welcome to White Castle, what’s your crave?’) asked, “Welcome to White Castle, what’s your problem?”

She apologized profusely while my dad proceeded to lose his shit laughing.

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mirab3lle

Yesterday I went to Wendy’s and the girl said “Welcome to McDonalds” and then just sighed

Somebody in the elevator asked me what floor I lived on, and I answered “please open your books to page eight”, and we just kind of stared at each other, blinking.

i work retail full time and my script gets frequently messy - ill ask the same question twice, or say “$2.60 is your total” while handing back their change, or say “how are you doing today?” instead of “have a good day!” like name it ive bungled it

but anyway, this lady came thru my line buying a book and the review on the front said: “few books are well written, fewer still are important, and this book manages to be both”

as i handed her the bag i was trying to say “thanks, youre all set” and instead my brain mashed up the review and i said “thanks, youre important”

there was this short pause in which i tried to figure out what the fuck id just said. she blinked and then said “oh thank you! youre important too!”

the real kicker was one of my coworkers. when i was relating this story later his response was “at least you said something NICE. last week i accidentally combined ‘youre welcome’ and ‘no problem’ into ‘youre a problem’”

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agrestenoir

one time, since I used to work as a daycare teacher with preschoolers, i was on my college campus in my gym, and someone was running in the weight room and tripped over a machine and fell, and instead of offering to help, I just stared and said, “This is why we use our walking feet.” we both sat there for a while until the guy nodded and said, “yeah, okay, i should’ve done that.”

I’ve spent a good chunk of time working in kitchens, so I still will reflexively say shit like “behind” and “coming around” as I maneuver through spaces and around people.

Which, actually, not such a bad thing; I’m a big guy and can come across as imposing pretty easily. The position calls can help defuse that, and also help avoid collisions.

Less good is the time my brain was half functional and I let slip a “coming with a knife” while grocery shopping. THAT took some explaining.

I work in an office and send tens of emails to customers every day. Once my mum asked me to send her a train ticket I had bought for her. I emailed her “Hello mum, as agreed, please find attached the ticked you requested. Thanks, Alex”

i worked as a camp counselor, and i would have the kids tap somewhere on my legs if they needed something because im a pretty tall dude. today asked my cat if he needed something.

I have woken up in a cold sweat saying “is that for here or to go?”

Every time a friend thanks me, and I respond with “gladly” or “my pleasure”, I die completely 1000% inside

I work at a plasma donation center. When processing donors, we call them by name, they walk up to the counter, and then we ask for their name and donor number. One time, instead of saying “Robert” I hollered “Name and donor number!?” into a full waiting room. Three people started announcing their names and donor numbers before we all realized that I fucked up.

In college, I was a barista at Borders (remember Borders, you guys?!) I once drove through Taco Bell on my way home after a shift. When the cashier said, “okay, that’ll be $5.46!” I cheerfully responded, “Do you have a Borders rewards card?”

I have dealt with so many difficult customers over the years that I used to angrily call my dog “Sir” when I was mad at him.

My first job was at my nearest Panera, and after coming home from a ten-hour Sunday morning shift, I was exhausted; but when my mom called me to come downstairs, instead of replying in the grumpy teenagerish tone I usually would, I said in my cheeriest, fakest voice, “Not a problem at all, let me just check with my manager!” before realizing my mistake.

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artwlw

my coworker went to back up the cash registers one time and she had been at customer service right before. when we finish with a customer we have to sometimes get the attention of the next person and will shout “i can get the next person in line!” but instead of saying that she yelled “HI WHAT CAN I HELP YOU WITH” to everyone in the general area

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youlovelucie

I have told my dog “no thank you” so many times after working at a preschool

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spacecores

a couple of times i’ve gotten stuck in a hello how are you good how are you good how are you loop with an equally tired Fred Meyer’s cashier after a long shift but the best time was after a 10 to 10 post-holidays after they told me my total, I asked if they would like a bag today and after a confused few seconds they were like, “no… I have the bags”

Worked in a gallery where we asked people to take off their backpacks in order not to accidentally damage paintings. So when I went to the shop later and saw a guy in the line in front of me, I told him he had to remove his backpack. He probably thought I was politely trying to rob him.

The other day they had me working with softserve and fried dough. I was burned out because I kept bouncing back and forth between the fryer and my register and these people had like, 8 things in their order. We get to the ice cream part of the order, and it comes in a bowl or cone. Instead of saying “Would you like the vanilla in a bowl or cone?” I said “Would you like the bowl in a vanilla or cone?” And we all stopped and had to think that through as my cart runner is staring me down like “tf are you doing?”

I work at Hardees and we have to yell “thank you” whenever we’re told to do something because of how loud the kitchen is.

One morning, my mom hollered at me to wake up, and half-asleep me yells at full volume,

THANK YOU

i work with dogs, and i have to be a bit strict with them sometimes in order to keep fights from breaking out. recently, while making tea, the kettle started boiling sooner than i wanted, so without thinking i turned around sharply, pointed my finger at it and stared it down, and said, “Bad boy! You need to wait!” needless to say i was very glad i was alone

I know I’ve reblogged this a billion times but I’ve worked retail for 8 years and these things are never not funny.

I work with horses and whenever someone’s driving too fast I’ll say stuff like “whoa” and I’ve tried to click to a car because that’s a cue for a horse to go faster.

It’s also fucking hilarious when lawyers meet judges outside court. Like you’ll just catch us standing up from our tables and bowing awkwardly at a random person who doesn’t look like a judge and then sitting back down and carrying on, like we’re all in some cult.

World Heritage Post

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dduane

:)

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i think about this one so fucking often i had to clip it

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6qubed

that was like watching someone very skillfully assembling a stained-glass window just to watch someone else dropkick it

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reblogged

Amnesia Fic Recs

Yesterday's Voices by LemonadeGarden

While trying to take down a drug cartel that deals with memory altering drugs, things go awry, and Batman wakes up with no recollection of the last five years. As a result, his family must now race against time to find the antidote, while also having to deal with a Bruce who still thinks Jason is Robin. A Bruce who doesn't recognise most of them. A Bruce far less jaded and cynical than the one they're used to. A Bruce who still cares.

Completed ∙ Chapters: 16 ∙ Word Count: 45k+ ∙ Whole Batfam-Centric

Losing You by DawnsEternalLight

What makes one a brother? Is it blood or time spent together? When Dick loses his memories of Damian the two must figure out how to relate to each other again while trying to find a way to return Dick's memories to him.

Completed ∙ Chapters: 13 ∙ Word Count ∙ 35k+ ∙ Damian and Dick-Centric

reset by Valkirin

Black Mask hires Circe to keep Red Hood out of his way for a week. Circe's spell will only last a week and she doesn't think Batman will notice or care that she placed a time-limited memory spell on a minor criminal.  Fifteen-year-old Jason Todd wakes up in a future he doesn't understand.

Completed ∙ Chapters: 9 ∙ Word Count: 35k+ ∙ Jason-Centric

Home by sELKieNight60

“Why didn't you call home?” the Red Hood is scolding him, bizarrely making his head spin with how unreal everything suddenly seems. “Why didn't you call Dad? You've been missing for three days and he is losing his mind―he thinks you've been kidnapped again―everyone has been pulling double runs all over the city trying to find you! You fucking disappeared! Seriously, Baby Bird, give us one good reason why we shouldn't drag your ass back home right now and have Dad bench you until the end of all days!?” The two vigilantes are staring at him equal parts furious and equal parts relieved, but there must be some kind of mistake, because: “Who is Tim?”

Completed ∙ Chapters: 12 ∙ Word Count: 60k+ ∙ Tim-Centric

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Jason woke, as he usually did, slowly and all at once.

The reentry made him feel muddied and muddled, like a stagnant pond bed dredged up and chucked into a blender. He didn’t know where he was, at first, or when. Even who was a little shaky.

He lay on his back, eyes open and unfocused, and let the room reorient around him.

His room.

The familiarity seeped in past the confusion, slotting the space into place. Jason knew without looking how his bed was positioned, where the nearest wall was in relation, the window, the door. The popcorn ceiling, alien and unrecognizable a moment before, became familiar again.

He was in a safe house, his safe house, in his room, on his bed.

In his bed, Jason corrected mentally as he became aware of the comforter pulled up to his shoulders.

He couldn’t remember how he had gotten here, was faintly aware of being somewhere else before, but he couldn’t recall where yet. Or rather, he remembered, but he wasn’t sure what was real.

Jason had been dreaming. He preferred that, the times where he dreamt, even when his dreams woke him screaming. To sleep without dreaming felt too much like something else.

Jason sat up, slowly, careful not to aggravate the wound that lurked beneath the bandages plastered to his side, and reached for the cup of water he kept on the bedside table. His mouth felt like a haunted house, bone dry and full of cobwebs. The cup was empty in seconds, and he considered leaving the bed to shuffle to the bathroom for more, but didn’t move right away, instead choosing to look around the room.

The space was dark, shielded from the streetlights and sun alike by the curtains pulled tight over the window, but enough light filtered through the thin cloth to outline the humps and bumps of what he expected to see. His bag lay slumped against the bedside table, his boots carefully tucked on the floor at the foot of the bed. The rickety dresser, the laundry hamper, the closed closet door, all was as it should be. The chair where he sometimes stacked books was neatly tucked against the wall, where it belonged. The only breathing in the room was his own.

Jason bowed his head and covered his face with one hand. Just a dream.

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