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.
Tags:
#Batman #fanfic #anything that makes me laugh this much deserves a reblog #(…I think my internal dossier system needs some work) #(Me: ”so this is a Batman fic.”) #(Brain: ”hmm?”) #(Me: ”you know. Batman? that rich dude who’s secretly a superhero?”) #(Me: ”well not a *super*hero exactly. just lots of combat training and gadgets financed with said richness.”) #(Brain: ”oh you mean the Red Panda.”) #(Me: ”…no.”) #((although honestly it kind of works as timeshifted Red Panda)) #((Bruce is clearly a better driver though))
oops accidental bonus headcanons because JEDI KNIGHT HAN SOLO, oooooops oh well too late now!
“It’s LUCK, kid,” Han scoffs dismissively, then proceeds to grab up the lightsaber himself and turn on the training droid, then close his eyes and nail every single bolt before knocking the thing right out of the air. “Also, see that, you don’t even NEED the Force to do that.” “… perhaps, but that was the Force you just did that with,” Obi-Wan replies slowly. “What,” Han says.
It was definitely the Force. “I AM NOT A JEDI,” Han Solo yells as he is dragged kicking and screaming into Jedi training by the power of Luke’s excitement at not being the only one suffering the indignity of getting hit in the ass by randomized droid blaster-shots, literally just that. Also Obi-Wan tells him he might be able to shave half a parsec off the Kessel Run, if he hones his Force-sense finely enough, which, well, FINE then. BUT ONLY FOR THE KESSEL RUN.
“I have a bad feeling about this.”
“I HAVE A VERY BAD FEELING ABOUT THIS.”
“DID I MENTION THE BAD FEELING THAT I HAVE ABOUT THIS BECAUSE IT IS AN INCREASINGLY BAD FEELING.”
Leia is so appalled by the state of the Jedi in this galaxy. “Sorry, sweetheart, we can’t all be bright-eyed little beacons of galactic hope,” Han says, smashing a Stormtrooper over the head with his lightsaber hilt. The blade is blue but NO ONE WOULD FUCKING KNOW, CONSIDERING HOW RARELY HE USES THE DAMN THING. Generally speaking Jedi Knight Han Solo uses his lightsaber as A) a laser cutter and B) a blunt instrument. Obi-Wan is dead and he is STILL going to die of shame on behalf of the Order.
“WHY ARE WE ON THIS HELLISH SWAMP PLANET AND HOW DO WE GET OFF IT YESTERDAY.”
The amount of gimer-stick whaps that Han Solo suffers has not been seen in the galaxy since Yan Dooku was a snotty little baby padawan who couldn’t be assed to pay attention to anything not saberplay for more than fifteen seconds at a time.
Lando takes one look at Han Solo holding a lightsaber and laughs for TEN THOUSAND YEARS. Chewbacca is like THANK YOU, AT LAST SOMEONE ELSE SEES THE FUCKING HILARITY OF THIS SITUATION, THANK YOU, CALRISSIAN.
“Dark Side my fine Corellian ASS, I’ll show you the fucking DARK SIDE, YOU PIECE OF BANTHA SHIT, LET ME AT HIM–”
(*Laughing helplessly*). Honestly, I think that even Vader would be speechless when confronted with Han Solo, Jedi Knight. The Dark Lord of the Sith hasn’t seen a Force-User this foul-mouthed, this rebellious, this angry, this full of sarcasm and biting wit since – since –
Vader abruptly realizes that he hasn’t seen a Jedi Knight like this since Anakin Skywalker. Except Han is taking all those traits and cranking them up to eleven. He is quietly convinced that, somewhere, Obi-Wan is laughing in the Force.
Just imagine Han Solo with telekinesis, though. Imagine it. Imagine all the things he could get up to with it, imagine how Han, already an absolute menace at sabbac, becomes downright unbeatable (”It’s training!” Han yells as he’s dragged away from the gambling table. “Heightening awareness and control, and let go of my kid, did you see that hand – “)
Hot damn, I just thought of something really cool. So, like, I headcanon that Harry kept Parseltongue after he lost the horcrux, because it’s just really fun to imagine stuff like Harry talking to Albus Severus’ pet snake or finding a little snake in the garden and hissing a hello. Parseltongue is really neat and snakes are awesome, so it’s so feel-good to imagine that instead of being used for Dark Arts, Harry’s just using it to make convo to little scaly cuties.
Like, Parseltongue apparently transfers with the soul or whatever? So you could totally claim that Harry’s soul/magic kept/learned the skill. A skill passed down through the soul/magic could totally transfer that way.
But… do you know who also had a piece of Voldemort’s soul inside them and was speaking Parseltongue pretty regularly for a long period of time? Ginny. Ginny Weasley.
So imagine twelve-year-old Ginny Weasley going home to heal after the whole Chamber of Secrets business, and finding a snake in the garden, muttering about sunny rocks and sleep. And it scares her so badly at first, because what if Tom isn’t really gone? What if Tom’s still lurking in some dark place in her head? She freaks out and nearly doesn’t come home for dinner that day… except… then she remembers that Harry can speak Parseltongue too.
Harry had an horrible encounter with Voldemort where Voldemort tried to take his life and somehow a piece of his power transferred to Harry, so now Harry can speak Parseltongue. Maybe she just got a piece of power too when Tom tried to steal her life?
It’d be really cool to have an AU where Ginny kept Parseltongue and decided that no, I’m not going to let Tom run my life and was treated Parseltongue like the cool trick it is. And Harry is the only one who full gets it and doesn’t get a little bit uncomfortable when she drops into hissing, and maybe Harry shyly gets encouraged to start hissing back. Voldemort tried to ruin our lives so let’s stick it to him and his Slytherin ancestors, right? Yeah!
Anyway, twelve year old Ginny and thirteen year old Harry having hissing conversations at the Gryffindor table, using it to talk smack and have inside jokes, and using it to scare the heck of out any pureblood supremacists. (Who are all absolutely scandalized because Parseltongue is something Salazar Slytherin is famous for and here it’s being using for casual conversation and Quidditch commentary by a Potter and a Weasley.)
Just picture these two adorable children hissing jokes at each other in the hallways and helping each other recover from their fear and trauma.
Ginny (in Parseltongue), “<Hey Harry, let’s both stare at Malfoy breaking into laughter and hissing at each other in Parseltongue.>”
Harry, “<…That would totally freak him out. …I’m in.>”
Ginny, “<Okay, he’s noticed we’re staring now.>”
Draco, “Do you have something to say Potter?!”
Ginny, “<Laugh now.>”
Harry and Ginny burst out into enormous laughter and Draco Malfoy is furious and gets increasingly mad as Harry and Ginny crack up and hiss things like, “<Great weather we’re having today!>” and “<How about them Harpies?>” And Draco can’t call a Professor on them because he can’t prove they’re saying anything bad (and it’s just icing on the top that they actually aren’t and he’s getting worked up over nothing).
This continues well into their relationship and into adulthood. All of the Potter-Weasley children can speak Parseltongue and have a foolproof way of having secret conversation in public. Sometimes they have to smack Jamie Sirius on the head to use English in public and tell Lily Luna to stop trying to scare people and convince them you’re the next Dark Lady. Harry and Ginny hiss at each other all throughout Ministry Events and Quidditch Events (Rita Skeeter cannot eavesdrop on them and she is furious) and to their children, lovingly telling them in this “language of the Dark Arts” to “<Behave yourselves>“ and ”<Remember to wear your jumper when it’s cold out.>“
Somewhere out there Tom Riddle and scores of Gaunts are rolling in their graves. Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley do not care.
Tags:
#Harry Potter #anything that makes me laugh this much deserves a reblog
i like to imagine that clark kent’s search history is mostly normal but then there’s stuff like “improved superman costume concept art” because he wanted ideas
no but like… do you sue him for using your designs? Do you politely ask him to stop using your designs? Do you ask him for license fees when the Superman merchandise adopts your design as well?
i am absolutely sure that he would find one with an artist’s comment/description that included “hey superman if you’re reading this feel free to use this anytime ok ;3″ and he would say “oh man that’s so thoughtful, thank you weedhorse69, I think I will” and like how do you explain in court that you, weedhorse69, did not intend for your statement to be any kind of contractual offer because you did not think he would ever find your public internet post with his name all over it
Wait, so, after being chosen as the fourth TriWizard Champion, Harry was immediately asked if he had an older student put his name in for him. So, like, was it actually that easy? Because if it was, you can’t tell me that some broke-ass Slytherin seventh-year didn’t immediately realize this and start raking in the cash. Like damn, they don’t want to be a part of this Insane Danger Stunt Show themselves, but they’ll put basically any scrap of paper you want into that stupid cup for a sickle.
You’re a first-year who can’t cast Wingardium Leviosa yet? Whatever, sure, just pay up. There’s no way you’re going to be chosen against Angelina “Can Probably Crush You With Her Thighs” Johnson, but at least you can tell all your eleven-year-old buddies that you Did A Cool Thing.
You wanna forcibly enter your friend without their consent? Hell no, get that shit out of here. I’m a Slytherin, not a complete bastard. If I’ve hear about you trying this shit again, I’mma curse your butt into the Lake and report you to Flitwick. You might think that’s funny because he’s short, but you will learn, young padawan. You will fear the Flitwick.
You’re a third-year who thinks that becoming the Hogwarts Champion will impress your crush? Okay, into the fiery cup. But also lmfao, have you even seen Cedric “Hottie McDreamy the Hufflepuff” Diggory? Like, hot damn.
You wanna enter your owl? Your cat? Your toad? Go for it, man, that’d be effing hilarious. I would actually pay to see that Tournament.
You’re a fifth-year who genuinely wants to enter the Tournament? Well, okay, but man, I am roomies with Cassius “Wake Up Before Noon At Your Own Risk” Warrington and he’d be grinding you into the floor under the heel of his handmade, Italian, dragon-hide shoes before you even knew what hit you.
You wanna enter… McGonagall? No, no, nonononono. That’s how people effing die, man. Like, she would destroy the competition and it would be glorious to behold and I would cry tears of awe at the sheer beauty of her wrath… but also, I am too young and beautiful to die. She would find us and we would die. Best scenario is she keeps us as pet mice forever.
So after the Weasley twins get their Age Potion issues fixed, a tiny Slytherin first-year girl sidles up to them in the halls and whispers, “You wanna enter the Tournament? Phil can hook you up. But you didn’t hear it from me!” And so the Weasley twins go find Phil, and Phil tells them straight up, “One slip for a sickle, three for two, five for three, and ten for four.”
Fred’s like, “Does entering your name more than once actually do anything?”
Phil, “Don’t know, don’t care.” (It doesn’t, Phil’s checked. He’d charge more if it did.)
And how does Phil get away with entering all these names? He tells all the supervising professors that he’s entering his own name – again and again and again – for a better chance at being selected. Professor Sprout informs him gently that this won’t make a difference and Phil tells her with the wide-eyed innocence of someone running a major scam operation that “Might as well try, Professor! Maybe diligence with pay off in the long run!”
Sprout’s heart melts, and everyone in the know facepalms. Everyone not in the know looks at him with “cheating Slytherin!” expressions and Phil dgaf because he’s got a giant pile of money now, suckers. [Snape noticed something was up, but didn’t care enough to stop it. Moody also noticed, but didn’t do anything. (Barty approves.)]
Entering more names doesn’t help because it’s not a lottery, the Goblet actually chooses, so a person can only really be entered once. It’s probably actually a good thing that Cedric “Tried to have a won Quidditch match made invalid out of fairness” Diggory and Harry “I am confused and I don’t want to be here” Potter were chosen. Because if fourth-year Ravenclaw Travis Collins had been chosen, the Goblet would have spat out all one-hundred and eighty-three scraps of paper with his name on it.
“Kids these days have too much pocket-money,” Phil comments as he comforts his boyfriend, Cassius Warrington, for being passed over in favor of Cedric “Made of Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice” Diggory, and counts the massive pile of money he’s collected. “Kinda wish the fiery cup had picked that kid’s Kneazle, though. That would’ve been awesome.”
I wanna read more about Phil and his boyfriend Cassius Warrington.
OK, but I read the part about entering your pets and all I can think about is the name ‘Trevor Longbottom’ coming out of the cup and the teachers are all confused because “did we somehow miss or forget that Neville has an older brother? Did Frank and Alice have a secret hidden love child during their Hogwarts years?” Meanwhile, half the Gryffindors are groaning and face palming because who doesn’t know about Trevor ‘constantly lost but probably actually trying to escape this insane asylum of a school’ Longbottom? and poor little nervous Neville, who certainly had nothing to do with Trevor’s name being entered, slowly makes his way too the front of the room and Dumbledore just looks at him curiously and Neville gulps and extends his hands, which Trevor is sitting in and as realisation dawns on the various professor’s faces, everyone collectively looses their shit.
I’m laughing so hard. Also also just imagine Errol’s name coming out. Oh man. Just… Oh man…
This is my favorite hc ever and I need a fic on this desperately
(OP here) Oh man, you are all my favorite people. But that animal thing is totally technically possible, because Barty Confunded the Goblet of Fire, right? It would take an exceptionally powerful and talented witch or wizard to enchant such an ancient magical artifact, right? But seriously, what if Barty had fucked up? That thing is ancient, there’s no way anyone in modern day really knows how the fuck it works.
Frankly, I am completely convinced that the Goblet of Fire is a horrible hodgepodge of experimental magic as some random witch tries to create some way to choose Champions. I have henceforth named her Gonilda and she is the magical computer programmer of 1294, and the creation process of the Goblet was a fucking disaster.
Like, “Shit, I’ve got this super ugly pot that my kid made me in his pottery class the other day, will that do?” “Okay, okay, how do I make the Goblet have only three schools?” “Fuck, Fredreich, made a note to make sure that it won’t explode if more than 13 students are entered because apparently this stubborn piece of ceramics can’t count for shit.” “HOW THE FUCK IS THIS JUDGING PROCESS SUPPOSED TO WORK? IF THIS SON OF A PITCH DOESN’T COOPERATE, I’M MAKING THIS SHIT RANDOM.” (’Gonilda, no.” “GONILDA, YES, DAMN IT!”) “Okay, okay, I think it works now. But also, I have no idea how to reset it. Can we only hold this shitty tournament once?” (”Gonilda, no.” “Fuck you, Fredreich.”) “OKAY, NOW IT WORKS! Just one more tiny detail an- Shit, it’s on fire now. …Can I just leave it on fire? I’m leaving it on fire.” (”Gonilda, no.” “I’m done, I’m out. It’s on fire and I’m not going to do shit about it.”)
Person in charge of running the Triwizard Tournament: “Ah, Fredreich, wonderful! And you met our deadline! Please give ours thanks to Mistress Gonilda for her exceptional wo- … Why is it on fire?”
Gonilda (in the distance): “BECAUSE FUCK YOU, THAT’S WHY.”
So basically, the Goblet of Fire works because nobody fucking touch it. It’s on fire, we don’t need to make it explode, folks. Just nobody do anything weird to it and we all collectively pray it keeps working.
And then along comes Barty Crouch Junior and he’s like, “I’mma Confund this cup for this Evil Plot by the Dark Lord Voldemort so it chooses Harry Potter.” Except the Goblet of Fire is a disaster and Barty’s Confundus works for maybe five minutes before something in it breaks, and it’s magical programming is basically just flipping through magical error messages.
Error 400: Bad Request – What the Fuck Are You Doing, Dipshit?!?
Error 403: Forbidden – Dear Fredreich, Stop Doing Shit, You Don’t Know Crap. With Much Love, Mistress Gonilda.
Error 405: Method Not Allowed – Seriously, Dipshit, What the Fuck?
Error 409: Conflict – With Literally Everything. Great Going, Assface.
Barty, why? Why would you try and poke an ancient disaster like this? You were so preoccupied with whether you could do it that you didn’t stop to think if you should. You did it, you crazy son of a bitch, you did it. See, here I am now by myself, talking to myself. That’s Chaos Theory.
Anyway…
Cue small, adorable, innocent first-year voice rising out of the crowd at the Champion Selection Ceremony: “Headmaster Dumbledore? Why is there black smoke coming out of it?”
Cue second small, adorable, innocent first-year voice: “Is it supposed to be making that tea-kettle sound? Why is it screaming?”
Then the Goblet just starts spitting out Champions like it’s freakin’ Oprah or something. Set fire to the fucking rain. YOU GET TO BE A TRIWIZARD CHAMPION!YOU GET TO BE A TRIWIZARD CHAMPION! EVERYBODY GETS TO BE A TRIWIZARD CHAMPION!
(Errol Weasley, Trevor Longbottom, every female Durmstrang student, Professor Trelawny, the Weasley twins twice, a Hogwarts seventh-year from every house, Fleur Delacour and a group of Beauxbatons boys that looks like a boy-band in disguise, Harry Potter five times over, that one kid’s Kneazle, etc. The list goes on.)
Cassius Warrington looks beside him to his boyfriend, who is currently trying to slide underneath a table and maybe phase himself out of existence by sheer willpower, muttering about how he’s now going to die at the hands of Minerva McGonagall and running away to Barbados.
“Phil,” Cassius says seriously, “What the fuck did you do.”
Tags:
#Harry Potter #anything that makes me laugh this much deserves a reblog
DS9 season 3 episode 15, “Destiny”, moral: always absolutely believe ancient bajoran prophecies because they will totally come true and ruin your day (esp if your name is benjamin sisko)
Tags:
#Star Trek #DS9 #anything that makes me laugh this much deserves a reblog
MEMO FROM: The Desk of Regional Commander (South-West) Cesar Majano, AB-DENs TO: Field Captain John Walk SUBJECT: Field Training the New Recruits
Captain:
Please see the attached report from the agents at the DSO. Apparently some of your recruits, out on a training mission, were spotted by Muggles on a desert walk-about. Please have words with the recruits: while we are extremely impressed with the detail of their transformations, we would ask they remember that it is not enough to simply look like a cactus. Proper cactus behavior is expected. Luckily DSO agents got wind of this issue through the Meme-Divination wing of those clever bastards over in the MRD and were able to quash the story before it broke. Now we only have this rather funny picture circulating and which I feel will be an excellent learning tool for your recruits both present and future.
@ilzolende and I were discussing linguistic sound change. I mentioned I’d read that ת (tav) has gone from ‘th’ in Biblical Hebrew to ‘t’ in Modern Hebrew and ‘s’ for some Ashkenazim; while ב (bet) and ו (vav) merge for (some) Sephardim, because of Spanish b/v merger.
Which eventually led to this story:
The Gileadites encamped at the Jordan and waited to slaughter the retreating Ephraimites. To distinguish them, they asked all comers to say ‘shibboleth’, because the Ephraimites could not pronounce the /sh/ phoneme and instead said it as /s/.
Gileadite 1: …So then you kill anyone who mispronounces ‘shibboleth’. Understood?
Gileadite 2: Understood.
(Modern) Israeli: Shalom!
Gileadite 2: Hey, we’re testing nationality. Say ‘shibboleth’.
Israeli: Uh, OK. ‘shibbolet’?
Gileadite 2: …u wot, mate?
Israeli: I said ‘shibbolet’, just like you asked.
Gileadite 2: Um, wrong, I guess. *slash*
Gileadite 1: No no no! That wasn’t an Ephraimite! That was a… Weirdo. Anyway, we’re just killing people who say /s/, dude. Listen for a /s/.
Gileadite 2: OK, got it.
Ashkenazi: Shalom!
Gileadite 2: Hey, we’re testing nationality. Say ‘shibboleth’.
Ashkenazi: Oy vey, what is this ‘shibboles’ thi-
Gileadite 2: *slash*
Gileadite 1: NO! We’re checking if they say /s/ at the beginning, man! The beginning!
Gileadite 2: Make up your MIND.
[One diversity training session later]
Gileadite 2: *sigh* OK. Sibboleth: Kill. Shibboleth: Let through. Shibbolet or Shibboles: Turn away. That’s everyone, right?
Gileadite 1: Yep. Good luck!
Sephardi: Shalom!
Gileadite 2: Hey, we’re testing nationality. Say ‘shibboleth’.
Brinens and Things 