#anchor arms meme

[deenigma]

🗿 I'm so sorry everyone that has to look at this 🤣🤣🤣🤣

[wiverly]

Mihawk: I have feelings for u…

Shanks: …?

Mihawk: not telling you which ones.

[chrisceptionarts]

The Ganondorf glow-up is crazy

Over a year ago I made a somewhat viral post referencing the SpongeBob anchor arms quote with rehydrated Ganon. Well now I've brought that meme to life.

A direct reference this SpongeBob meme

[lexawritex]

—let me take care of you

★ taking care of your girlfriend after an exhausting practice

bada x fem!reader

a/n: wrote this instead of studying for my exams

you lounged on the spacious couch, aimlessly scrolling through your phone, occasionally chuckling at random memes. the clock had just struck 11 p.m., and for some reason, sleep refused to come. maybe it was the afternoon nap that stretched too long or the lingering buzz of the coffee you drank earlier.

but really, you just wanted to be awake when your girlfriend arrived. with her practices intensifying as the competition drew closer, time together had become a rare luxury. you missed her—her presence, her warmth, even the simple act of sitting beside her in comfortable silence.

tonight, you were determined to steal at least a moment with her. even if it meant fighting off sleep, waiting until the door clicked open and she finally walked in.

time seemed to drag on but nevertheless, she's arrived.

the door clicked, followed by the sound of soft shuffles. the moment you heard it, you sprang up from the couch and jogged toward the entrance. hearing your hurried footsteps, bada looked up, and the exhaustion on her face melted into a soft smile the second she saw you.

kicking off her shoes, she wasted no time stepping into your open arms, letting out a deep sigh as she buried her face in your neck. her grip on you was firm, as if anchoring herself after a long, draining day. the warmth of your embrace was exactly what she needed.

"hmm, baby, i missed you so bad," bada whined, her grip on you tightening.

you chuckled at her adorable demeanor, your fingers gently threading through her slightly damp hair. she smelled like sweat and a hint of her perfume, but you didn’t mind. if anything, it only reminded you how hard she had been working.

content with the hug, bada pulled back and cradled your face in her hands, a subtle pout forming on her lips.

you chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to her nose.

"what now, love?" you asked, giggling at her expression.

"i miss you so much. you know we only get to see each other when one of us is asleep because of our packed schedules these days," she pouted, making you coo.

you giggled before peppering her face with soft kisses, earning a satisfied hum from her.

"you big baby, that's why i stayed up—so we can have our time together. now go and bathe yourself, you smell like sweat and hard work," you teased, playfully shooing her away.

bada pouted but eventually sighed in defeat. "fine, fine. but don't fall asleep on me, okay?"

you chuckled, shaking your head as you made your way back to the living room. "no promises!" you called out, hearing her groan dramatically before disappearing into the bathroom.

unable to hold yourself back, you quietly stepped into your shared room, only to find bada dozing off at the vanity desk, her head bobbing slightly as she fought against sleep.

a soft chuckle escaped your lips as you walked over, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "who's the one sleeping now?" you murmured, shaking her lightly.

"oh, i'm sorry..." she rasped, her voice heavy with exhaustion.

"just sit still," you said softly. she obeyed, her tired eyes following your movements as you walked to the sink, washing your hands before returning to her.

grabbing a headband, you gently slid it onto her head, keeping her damp hair from sticking to her face. bada adjusted in her seat, allowing you to stand comfortably in front of her.

reaching for her skincare products, you took a small amount in your hands before carefully applying it to her skin, your fingers gliding over her tired features with soft, deliberate motions.

bada hummed at your soothing touch, her

hands finding their way to your hips, gently

pulling you closer. before you knew it, you

were perched on her lap, continuing her

skincare routine as she gazed at you with

tired but adoring eyes.

after finishing her skincare, you gently tapped bada’s shoulder. her tired eyes fluttered open, and she mumbled a soft, “thank you,” before letting you stand from her lap.

grabbing the blow dryer, you turned it on and carefully ran your fingers through her damp hair, working through the strands with ease. bada watched you with a sleepy smile, her gaze filled with quiet admiration.

“you’re so wifey,” she murmured, tilting her head up to look at you. “can i marry you right this instant?”

you chuckled softly, shaking your head at her playful remark. bada only grinned before falling silent, her eyes growing heavier as she melted under the soothing sensation of your fingers running through her hair.

with bada's hair now dry, you gently combed through her long locks before tapping her awake. her eyes fluttered open, and without hesitation, she pulled you close, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

pulling back slightly, her voice came out in a tender whisper.

"thank you, baby."

you smiled, fingers instinctively threading through her hair.

"anytime, love."

her smile widened at your words, a warmth spreading through her chest. no matter how many times you used sweet endearments, they never failed to make her feel like a lovestruck teenager experiencing her first romance.

"seriously, you're making my heart do acrobatics," bada groaned, placing a hand over her chest dramatically.

you laughed at her analogy, shaking your head. "come on, let's go to bed. you still have practice tomorrow."

her face scrunched up in protest, letting out a small whine. "ugh, don't remind me."

despite her complaints, she still followed you to bed, wrapping her arms around you the moment you laid down. your back pressing against her front.

"you'll be there when we perform, right?" bada asked, her voice laced with a hint of vulnerability.

you shifted to face her, meeting her gaze with a reassuring smile. "of course. i’ve already cleared my calendar for that special day."

bada's lips curled into a wide smile before she leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss against yours. when she pulled back, the happiness in her expression was undeniable.

"then every exhausting practice will be worth it," she murmured.

you nodded, snuggling closer into her warmth. "i can't wait to see you shine."

"i love you."

"i love you most."

[callahanisms]

inquisition companions react to the inquisitor missing half their arm

because bioware didn’t wanna give it to us, i decided i’d just do it myself. (insert thanos meme) even though i am like years late to the hype.

the game is like 9 years old at this point, but spoilers ahead.

do keep in mind this is my own personal interpretation of each character. it may not be accurate to your own interpretations. (also i know leliana is technically not a companion in inquisition but i included her anyways)

cassandra pentaghast

if cassandra could plunge a knife into the heart of solas, she would. she would not let him get away with betraying you and taking the anchor along with your arm. you had basically fallen into her arms when you emerged from the portal and she had to carry you back to halamshiral. for the days you were unconscious, cassandra was anxious and extra prickly. there were many times where cullen would have to talk her down from her anger. even varric did too.

dorian pavus

the first thing he did was crack a joke. the atmosphere was tense and it just slipped out. “i asked you to come back in one piece, not missing one.” safe to say, the other companions did not approve of his joke. dorian was set to return to tevinter after being notified of his new position as a magister, but he delayed the return to his homeland for you. he sat in your room as you lied unconscious, barely breathing, leg anxious bouncing up and down. when you awoke, you were immediately met with a large and tight hug from him. he knocked the air out of your lungs from that.

blackwall

blackwall admires you. in fact, everyone would go so far as to say he adores you. he thinks of you as strong, capable, almost infallible. you closed rifts, you closed the big green tear in the sky, and you defeated corypheus! what couldn’t you do? all your feats proved to him that you were the strongest leader he could ever know. and yet, you were still mortal. you left the eluvians mortally wounded and exhausted beyond belief, your eyelids so heavy and ready to close so you may drift off into the black void of sleep. blackwall would not let you, not until you were taken away to be cared for. you found him sitting besides you, awake and on guard. your mortality was his reminder that you and him were the same, even if your lives appeared to be completely different. and he understood that the world would need a leader like you and that is dangerous.

iron bull

the bull could feel a stronger kinship with you that day. it appears that the both of you lost something. he betrayed the qun for the inquisition, thus losing a part of himself, his people. you lost a literal part of yourself, something you had to come to terms with after having the anchor for two years. to say iron bull was shaken up would be an understatement. he was getting cassandra to hit him with sticks for days on end while you lied unconscious. he wondered what would’ve happened if he was with you, if maybe...he could’ve stopped solas. but reminiscing never did anyone any good.

cole

as much as he wanted to help you, cole couldn’t. he also understood that you wouldn’t accept his help, no matter how much he insisted. so instead, he did the best thing he could do: help tend to your injuries. what was curious was that he could feel very little of your pain. when he felt your pain two years ago after forming the inquisition, it was concentrated in your hand and forearm. with it gone, you felt at peace. the primary source of pain for you had been washed away. perhaps it was a blessing in disguise, he thought.

sera

sera’s immediate reaction is, like dorian, to crack a joke. everyone is used to her eccentricity. but it felt different this time around. while you laid unconscious, recovering from the long battle, she occupied herself. she had to busy her hands and her legs, keep moving, keep her mind busy. because if she sat too still for even a second, then her mind would think about the worst outcome. she would get images of you, dead, because solas had betrayed you, betrayed her, betrayed the inquisition. hell, he betrayed the world! that knob! thinking he knew what was best! sera’s all the more relieved when it’s revealed you survived. she bursts through the door to see you and hug you tightly, complaining about how much you scared her.

varric tethras

in all honesty, varric should’ve been more prepared to expect...well, the unexpected. he had expectations of you coming out unharmed, untouched. obviously, that was not what happened. and he wondered if he was responsible for this. he had been one of the many people to support you as the inquisitor two years ago, suggesting it. he wondered if he made the wrong decision. but also, part of varric was relieved. he lost someone close to him two years ago. he didn’t know if he could handle losing you too.

vivienne de fer

the court would devour tales of the eluvians and how you managed to survive. that was vivienne’s first thought. people would be talking about you for centuries to come, certainly. and yet, she knew in her soul that was not what you would want. she does her best to minimize what rumors spread when you first emerge from the eluvians and help give you privacy. behind closed doors, vivienne checks on your injuries. part of her is amazed that the anchor was removed so cleanly.

josephine montilyet

josephine has seen many things ranging from serious to just plain absurd. when she was alerted that you had returned with many serious injuries, including the loss of half your arm, she sent messages to get the best possible doctors in all of orlais to help attend to you. the woman was definitely stressed beyond belief. but when she wasn’t trying to get everyone from backing off from you or getting people to look at you, josephine was attending to you herself. you awoke to find her wiping some sweat off your face and when she noticed, she muttered about how great andraste was and embraced you tightly.

cullen rutherford

your knight-commander appeared to take the news very well, much to the disapproval of cassandra. but the moment cullen was alone, in private, he flipped a table, causing everything to crash. all he could feel running throughout his body was regret, guilt, and anger. regret and guilt for not having gone with you. he should’ve. because if he did, maybe you would have came back alright. anger directed towards solas because the apostate had betrayed you, the inquisition. and everything you and him had worked towards was going to crumble. all of his hard work, leliana’s, cassandra’s, josephine’s, it’d all be for naught. cullen ends up spending a lot of time alone while you’re unconscious. he prays to andraste and the maker to distract himself from any wandering thoughts going towards lyrium. certainly the new mabari hound he decided to adopt on a whim helps with distractions at least.

leliana

the woman has seen many things in her lifetime, having experienced the fifth blight itself and been part of that fight against the archdemon. still, things aren’t easy when you come back from the eluvians missing half of your arm. even if it goes against all her duties, leliana stays with you until you wake up to make sure you’re alright. you’re the inquisitor after all and it’s vital that you’re still alive.

solas

he’s the one who took it. you think he cares?

in all seriousness, it gave him no pleasure to remove your arm for the anchor. even if his plan was...well, shoddy we should say, the anchor was going to kill you. he had no choice. carrying your hand and forearm around felt heavy. he could carry it just fine but what made it heavy was the burden that came with his plan to tear down the veil and bring doom upon the world in a desperate attempt to bring it back to what it once was. and also, the burden of having harmed you.

[mortalityplays]

This is a very good illustration of the increasing susceptibility to conspiratorial thought patterns I've been seeing on the left lately. Just because you don't believe there are space marines on Mars doesn't mean you're immune to building imaginary connections between aesthetic or emotional data points and mistaking them for evidence. A lot of well meaning people in my circles have been sharing this story, buying uncritically into the first narrative they encountered. I want to break down why:

Jones' twitter thread was extremely emotional and extremely urgent. The idea of a child being ripped away from his frantic mother and a ticking clock to decide his fate both helped the story to bypass analytical scrutiny. It sends the message 'act now, before it's too late, it's the only compassionate thing to do'.

Her connection to an existing conspiracy (a concerted effort by the state to cover up Covid statistics) creates a strengthening association with the idea that this is also a conspiracy. The thread offers no positive evidence that her son's arrest was a conspiracy, and no positive evidence that his arrest has any connection to her prior experiences.

Jones' allegation that the arrest was retribution for her actions as a whistleblower implicitly identifies her in the reader's mind. A lot could be unpacked about her dispute with the DOH but it doesn't really matter because I don't think most people who circulated this story knew much about it either way. The point is that it anchors her identity in a few key concepts: 'whistleblower', 'covid scientist', 'concerned citizen'. None of these qualities are relevant to the events detailed in the thread (or evidenced in the thread, if we're being really rigorous), but they unconsciously prejudice the reader's assessment of whether to trust or side with her. Simply put, if you are concerned about how covid was handled and/or inclined to support whistleblowers, you are more likely to assume she's credible.

If you dislike and distrust cops, you are primed to accept a narrative in which they are doing something straightforwardly evil. Don't get me wrong, fuck 12, but I say that armed with an enormous preponderance of cases in which we have positive evidence of police acting out of self interest, cruelty, corruption, racism, misogyny, etc. Allowing ourselves to be seduced by the fantasy that they are always always without fail breaking rules and fashing it up in broad daylight only makes us easier to delude and manipulate.

She repeatedly made the point that her son is autistic. Again, if you are autistic or sympathetic to autistic people, you are more likely to be 'warmed up' by this detail and inclined to take her side. I'm not going to say it's irrelevant to the idea that he was being unfairly targeted, but it is overwhelmingly emotionally weighted. And again, it is not evidence that he was unfairly targeted. It's another weight on the scale that tips you to judge the truth value of her story without reality checking.

The example of a meme that she shared is characteristic of a type of online humour that is at least familiar to most of us. If you or your friends make edgy jokes and share tasteless irony memes, or if you've been online for more than like a week, you understand that they're mostly harmless. The idea that this meme could be used as evidence by law enforcement to detain you is ideologically threatening in an immediately relatable way. It evokes a reflex defensive impulse — that's not fair, the cops are wrong, the kid is innocent — bypassing the process of verification. Is this meme the reason he was arrested? Is it the only one he posted? Is it the only reason he was arrested?

All of these factors create a gut-led constellation of information that quickly forms a picture. Because it is being pieced together from multiple subconscious feelings and prejudices, it feels as if it has been evidenced. Because the thread was highly emotional and highly urgent, readers were pressured to jump to rapid conclusions and ask "what can I do to help?" (and the answer, as it almost always is, was 'donate money, quick').

I want to be really clear that I am not saying Jones manufactured any of these effects on purpose. It would be completely within reason that having a young child arrested would send anyone into an emotional tailspin, grasping for reasons this might have happened, leaping to his defense, rallying resources to fight on his behalf. I am not in any way ascribing malice to her actions.

What I'm interested in is the effect that this emotive kneejerk appeal had on people who were unknowingly predisposed to believe that the state of Florida would kidnap a child to punish a scientist for disagreeing with the department of health about covid statistics. That is a baseless conspiracy theory, and a huge number of people in my immediate circles reflexively amplified it.

Personally, I think arrest is a godawful way to respond to a child having a mental health crisis, even if they are seen to pose a violent threat. That still doesn't mean the cops did it at the bidding of a mad dictator in waiting. In the hypothetical parallel universe where it turns out Jones was right and this was all a conspiracy to punish her, it still would not have served the situation to jump to that conclusion on a gut feeling.

Pausing to identify relevant, verifiable facts before sharing a story like this is always warranted, even if you think the person telling it is 'on your side'. The more you worry that questioning the narrative wastes precious time or makes you a bad person, the more you should scrutinise why you are being made to feel that way. Accepting unfounded conspiracies into your worldview is not benign, even if you think the 'targets' deserve it. It erodes your critical perspective and turns you into a vector for the people around you.

tl;dr: you are not immune to baseless conspiratorial thought

[vendetta-if]

Another Batch of Vendetta Memes

Babe, wake up, it’s time for another batch of silly Vendetta memes 🤡😆 Just sharing some more memes I’ve shared in my Discord server 🤭

Ok, the last one is a bit sad 😔 But it’s the truth.

Before having MC and after running away from his family, Viktor was pretty lost. He knew he wants to make up for the horrible things he did, but at the same time, he also didn’t feel like he was doing anything worthwhile as a Vigilante.

When he first got into relationship with Yvette, he thought she was the one who would finally anchor him and give him a new purpose, but of course it didn’t work out.

But from the moment he first held MC in his arms, he felt like his life was complete. He knew that the remaining of his life would be dedicated to his precious child. They brought him true joy they hadn’t felt for years and there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for them and their safety.

[yesterdays-xkcd]

That helmet won't save him.

Secretary: Part 2 [Explained]

Transcript

[Blondie as a news anchor sitting behind a desk is reading from a paper she holds in her hands. There is a picture of Black Hat on a screen behind her. There is a caption below the picture.] Blondie: Breaking news—the President has made a nomination to the new post of Internet Secretary. We know little about the man, shown here. Caption: Possibly a haberdasher?

[Blondie keeps talking over a scene showing her standing with a microphone in front of a water-filled moat that has been dug between the road and a house. A small stair up to the house is just on the other side of the moat. Behind her is Cueball with a large TV camera on his shoulder pointing towards her and the house.] Blondie (narrating): Attempts to reach the nominee at home were unsuccessful. Blondie: What the hell kind of apartment has a moat?

[Back to Blondie behind her desk, the paper is gone, and she leans one arm on the desk. There is no screen behind her.] Blondie: To understand the culture from which he came — and which he may soon administer — we sent a reporter to what we're told is the source of that culture. Blondie: Tom?

[This panel is much larger than the three previous panels and partly hidden behind the last. Tom, looking like Cueball with a military helmet with camouflage marks strapped under his chin, holds a large microphone in front of him while standing in front of a large screen. The screen shows a message board with four picture posts. Each picture has a text to the right, but those are unreadable scribbles. The top drawing is of a man with wild hair who holds out his hands with thumbs up. The next is text. Then there is a circle with a smaller circle in the middle and at the bottom what appears to be a Cueball-like man with a fencing mask. Blondie still speaks to him from off-panel left.] Tom: I'm coming to you live from the 4chan /b/ board. Despite the tube cloggage, nascent memes are flying fast and furious. Blondie (off-panel): Why are you wearing a helmet, Tom? Tom: I'm not sure. Image with text only: /b/

[Ponytail is sitting in front of a large control unit using the two levers coming out of it from below two buttons that are again below the lit screen. A voice comes from off-panel left. Above the top of the panels frame, there is a frame with a caption:] Meanwhile in Ron Paul's blimp. Ron Paul (off-panel): Ahoy! What news of the blogs?

[Zoom out showing Ponytail, who has turned around on her office chair away from the controls towards Ron Paul drawn like Cueball but with a cane. She holds up a piece of paper with a small square insert visible at the top. Apart from that, it is white.] Ponytail: Dr. Paul! The President's named his nominee! Ron Paul: It's not me?

[Ron Paul's blimp is shown from the outside. His voice can be seen coming from the airship. There is text on the blimp, with the four letters after the first written mirrored to spell another word.] Ron Paul (from inside the blimp): Wait! I remember that guy from the campaign! He's a notorious troll! Blimp: Ron Paul RƎVO⅃UTION

[Back inside the blimp, Ron Paul points to Ponytail, while his other hand is lifted to his chin. His cane leans against his legs. Ponytail looks at him from her chair, the paper now held in her lap.] Ron Paul: They mustn't put him in charge. Quick, call the capitol!

[Ponytail turns around on her chair towards the controls and takes hold of one of the sticks. Ron Paul has taken the cane in his hand again.] Ponytail: Can't, sir. The tubes just went down completely. Ron Paul: Blast!

[Ponytail now holds onto both sticks as Ron Paul lifts his cane up into the air pointing away from her up and right.] Ron Paul: Then we'll go ourselves. Full speed ahead!

[A full view of the blimp hanging in the air to the left over a broad landscape. There seems to be a small lake just in front of the blimp. The horizon is shown all along this full width panel, and after the lake, there are five small mountain peaks, two behind the three in front. After the last of these, there follow one more peak and a small mound. Features are shown on the ground. In the air in front of the blimp, there are a small cloud inside the panel at the end of the lake and a large cloud breaking the upper frame over the end of the five mountains stretching over the next peak and mound.]

[Same image. The blimp has advanced minutely, taking the tip clearly over the lake. Beat panel #1]

[Same image. The blimp has advanced minutely again. Beat panel #2]

[Same image, but now the two speak from within the blimp. The blimp has again advanced minutely so the gondola below the blimp is now also almost at the edge of the lake.] Ron Paul: I said full speed! Ponytail: It's a blimp, sir.

[oldguardleatherdog]

We Don't Have Nixon To Kick Around Anymore

50 years on from The Resignation, a glancing elegy

On the night of August 8, 1974, as I sat on the big couch in our livingroom with one eye on the TV and the other on the cast on my left arm (another fractured wrist, this time from being last kid standing in a game of Bombardment at 6th grade recess - dodgeball with three balls - I made a heroic dive, felt the sproinggg! as I landed hard, and I knew another trip to Dr. MacFarland was in my near future), I saw the familiar jowls of President Nixon fill the screen on the Zenith, knowing that what Gerald Ford would soon call "our long national nightmare" was about to come to its once unlikely, suddenly imminent end.

For most of 1973 and all of 1974, the Watergate scandal had consumed the nation, crowding out the summer daytime programming (what? no Jeopardy or Concentration or that wild guy from Canada with the 'fro and the stache on a lame game called The Wizard of Odds named Alex Trebek? We had to go outside and play?), making unlikely household names of obscurocrats like John Dean and G. Gordon Liddy and Jeb Stuart Magruder, spawning what we would call memes today featuring Tricky Dick caricatures with endless snorts on Hollywood Squares and Laugh-In, and getting 12-year-old factory town kids engaged with politics in surprising ways (for two years, our Social Studies classes were a hotbed of partisan debate, and I lost ten cents betting on McGovern over Nixon in '72).

We all knew the end was close - the local headlines in giant type screaming "Nixon Resignation is Near" were belaboring the obvious by then - and as the President droned on, I listened for the cue to look at the screen...

"Therefore," - my family and I swiveled our heads in unison - "I shall resign the Presidency effective at noon tomorrow. Vice President Ford will be sworn in as President at that hour in this office."

And just like that, it was over.

The next day, I watched as the Nixons took their final walk across the White House lawn towards the helicopter that would carry them away from Washington and into history, Julie and Tricia and their husbands bearing them up, then the long-suffering Pat who God only knows how she held it together at that scorching, searing moment -

and last, the old crook himself, turning to face the Fords and the gathered staff and America and the world one last time, extending both arms out and up "stiff as a board" as the NBC News anchor remarked, his hands making the peace sign (peace! Jesus Christ, I learned in that instant where irony ended and satire began) in the posture we knew so well, and then just like that, they were gone.

And here we are, half a century hence, my wrist long since healed, wondering how the hell I got old, casting my baleful eye across our miserable mise-en-scène, trying to figure out just where we lost the thread and took the turn that got us back into the same damn jam squared - hell, cubed - and yearning for such a clear-cut, uncomplicated, and decisive ending to our long national nightmare once again.

[Excerpt from the "Checkers Speech", UVA's Miller Center via Vimeo]

[darkenedroses-world]

Whispers Between the Lines — Puffer x Reader

f!reader, Sleep Stream Chaos, Flirty Banter, sweet and spicy, streamer romance, cozy but hot, request🦋

The sleep stream started out simple enough. You and Puffer had set up a cozy corner with soft lighting, a mountain of pillows, and a blanket fort that rivaled anything you’d made as a kid. It was supposed to be chill—just the two of you relaxing while chat entertained themselves with media shares. “Alright, chat,” Puffer said, adjusting the mic. “Keep it clean. I don’t want to wake up to nightmares.” “Speak for yourself,” you teased, fluffing a pillow. “I’m ready for the chaos.” The stream began smoothly. You both bantered lightly, poking fun at chat’s choice of videos and laughing at the ridiculousness of some memes. Then someone sent in an edit of you. The video started with soft, cinematic music, transitioning into clips of you laughing, smiling, and making exaggerated faces during streams. It was flattering, highlighting your best angles and even slowing down a few moments for dramatic effect. You laughed, brushing it off with a playful, “Alright, who had too much time on their hands? Props, though. That’s some solid editing.” But when you glanced at Puffer, his reaction caught you off guard. His cheeks were tinted pink, his eyes darting between the screen and his lap as he tried to suppress a smile.

“Oh, Puffer’s blushing!” you exclaimed, leaning closer to the camera. “No, I’m not!” he shot back, his voice a little too defensive to be convincing.

Chat exploded. Messages flew in rapid-fire:

Puffer, you okay there?

BUSTED

Puffer, blink twice if you’re in love

The teasing didn’t stop there, and you weren’t about to let it slide either. “Aw, Puffs, you like my edit?” you asked, batting your lashes dramatically. He groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Chat, I hate all of you.” You grinned, loving the way he squirmed. “Don’t blame them! They’re just exposing the truth.” As the stream continued, the teasing subsided—but the tension lingered. You couldn’t help but steal glances at him, noticing the way he avoided meeting your eyes. As the chat continued and talked about something else, the air was thick with unspoken words. “You were really red back there,” you teased softly, nudging him with your shoulder. He rubbed the back of his neck, laughing nervously. “Yeah, well… they got me good.” “Or maybe,” you said, leaning closer, “there’s something you’re not telling me.” His eyes met yours, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. Then, quietly, he admitted, “Okay, fine. I like you. A lot. Happy now?” Your breath caught, his words settling over you like a warm blanket. “Really?” “Yeah,” he said, his voice steady despite the vulnerability in his eyes. “You’re incredible, Y/N. And I’ve been trying to keep it cool, but that edit just… yeah.” You smiled, your heart pounding. “Good. Because I like you too, Puffer.” The relief on his face was immediate, and before you knew it, he was leaning in. His lips met yours, the kiss soft at first, then deepening as the weight of everything unsaid melted away.

His hands cupped your face, pulling you closer as the kiss turned hungrier, more desperate. You shifted, climbing into his lap as his arms wrapped around your waist, anchoring you to him. “Y/N,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and rough. “Mm?” you replied, your fingers tangling in his hair. “Tell me if you want to stop,” he said, his eyes searching yours. “I don’t,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss him again. Puffer glanced at the glowing chat scrolling rapidly across the screen of his laptop propped up nearby. The vibrant colors of his wireless microphone matched the chaotic vibe of the stream perfectly, its cord extending just enough for him to lean back against the couch comfortably. He fiddled with the mic in his hands, his fingers tapping against the plastic as a sheepish smile tugged at his lips. “I can’t believe I’m about to do this,” he mumbled, mostly to himself, though the mic picked up his words loud and clear. The chat, of course, exploded in reaction, a mix of teasing messages and curious demands to know what he meant. With a dramatic sigh, he leaned forward, his thumb clicking the button to mute the mic briefly as he gave you a knowing look. Then, with a dramatic click, he ended the stream. You laughed softly, pulling back slightly. “Ending it early, huh? Scandalous.” He met your gaze, his eyes dark with intensity. “Can you blame me? I’ve got way better things to focus on right now.”

Before you could respond, his lips captured yours again, the kiss deeper this time, filled with an urgency that made your head spin. His hands trailed down your sides, gripping your waist as he guided you backward onto the makeshift bed of pillows and blankets. “Puffer,” you murmured against his lips, your voice trembling with anticipation. “Chris,” he corrected softly, his lips grazing your jawline. “Call me Chris tonight.” Your heart skipped at the sound of his name, the vulnerability in his tone sending shivers through your body. “Chris,” you whispered, testing the word as your hands tangled in his hair. He groaned softly, the sound vibrating against your skin as he kissed down your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear. His hands explored your body with reverence, slipping beneath your shirt to trace patterns on your bare skin. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire. “I’ve wanted this for so long.” His words ignited something in you, and you tugged at his hoodie, needing to feel more of him. He helped you, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside before his hands found their way back to you. His bare skin was warm against yours, his touch firm but gentle as he lifted your shirt over your head, leaving you vulnerable beneath his gaze. “You’re perfect,” he whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to your collarbone, then lower, trailing a path that left your body trembling.

Every touch, every kiss, was deliberate, as though he was savoring every moment. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you to straddle him as he sat back, his lips finding yours once more. The new position left you both gasping, the heat between you undeniable as his hands roamed your body. “Tell me what you want,” he whispered, his voice low and teasing as he nipped at your bottom lip. “You,” you replied breathlessly, your hands gripping his shoulders as you moved against him, the friction driving you both closer to the edge. “Say it again,” he demanded, his hands tightening on your hips as he held you in place, his gaze locking with yours. “I want you, Chris,” you said, your voice trembling with need. That was all it took. He shifted you onto your back, his movements careful yet assertive as he positioned himself between your legs. His lips claimed yours in a kiss that left you breathless, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs. He paused, his forehead resting against yours as he whispered, “Are you sure?” You nodded, your hands cupping his face. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.” With that, he guided himself into you, his movements slow and deliberate as he allowed you to adjust. The stretch was overwhelming in the best way, your body arching beneath him as he filled you completely. “God, you feel amazing,” he groaned, his lips brushing against your temple as he began to move.

Each thrust was measured, his pace steady as he held you close, his breath hot against your skin. The way he moved, the way he whispered your name like a prayer, left you completely undone. “You’re doing so good,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “So good for me.” Your hands gripped his back, your nails digging into his skin as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable level. His name spilled from your lips in a broken cry, your body trembling beneath him as he pushed you over the edge. The sound of your release sent him spiraling, his movements becoming erratic as he chased his own climax. With one final thrust, he buried himself deep, his body shuddering as he came, his groans muffled against your neck. For a moment, the room was silent except for the sound of your heavy breathing. Chris pressed soft kisses to your shoulder, his arms wrapping around you as he rolled onto his side, pulling you with him. “You okay?” he asked, his voice soft as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. “More than okay,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. He smiled, his lips finding yours in a gentle kiss. “Good. Because that was… incredible.” You laughed softly, snuggling into his chest. “Yeah, it was.” The two of you lay tangled together, the warmth of his embrace lulling you into a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in weeks.

[gloriousmonsters]

I'm going to be busy for a while coming and keep having little scraps of time to write but being too indecisive between my way-too-numerous wips (I discovered sooo many when i went to transfer my mdzs stuff from one platform to another) to settle down and write a bit on one; so with permission I'm stealing @veliseraptor's 150 words meme. Essentially, send me a number from the list of fics below and I'll write at least 150 words on that fic, bringing it a little closer to finished!

"All right," Xue Yang says, getting down to business. "What happened?"

"What?" Meng Yao says, and then, "Nothing."

"Bullshit! What were you and Shizun even doing?"

"Oh, that isn't..." Meng Yao shakes his head. "It was to do with the plans Shizun has. It's really... A-Yang, does it seem to you that Shizun has been through a war before? He even said he'd seen something like this happen. But there hasn't been a war in the jianghu for a long while. Not between large sects, nothing like this might be."

"Yeah, it's weird," Xue Yang says, refusing to be distracted. He's here because he wants to not think about the future for a few minutes. "But that's not why you're upset."

To his confusion, Meng Yao flushed.

"It's nothing," he says again. "I mean—it's my fault. I was stupid." {wrapped in stories (the ones where we were good)}

2. "Give me a drink of that wine," Xue Yang says, flashing a smile through the pain of his split lip, "and I'll taste like him, too."

Jiang Cheng's mouth twitches. Despite the power he clearly holds, he looks hunted. Like Xue Yang could force him to do it. He looks at the jug, and says, "What's the progress on your latest method?"

The ritual Xue Yang is currently preparing is old and very complex, full of painstakingly drawn symbols. A few of them had gotten ruined when Jiang Cheng had thrown him to the floor earlier, but he decides not to mention that. "I'll finish setting it up tonight. Test it tomorrow. You should be there."

Jiang Cheng scoffs to himself, still not looking at Xue Yang. "The anchor excuse again?"

Xue Yang coughs up a laugh—more shock than amusement. More anger than either. "Excuse? An excuse for what, Jiang-zongzhu?" (look away from old familiar faces)

3. Xue Yang is undaunted. "Your chest," he elaborates, with a smile, like comprehension is the problem. "The marks from the curse. I want to see them." He pauses. "You just open your robe and then—"

"I know how—" Su Minshan breaks off, confusion and fury battling on his face. "Why?"

"I don't remember agreeing to an interrogation," Xue Yang says. "What's the holdup? You promised I could ask for something, I beat you, I asked." He grins. "Are you going to go back on your word?"

And here's the thing about Su Minshan; this works. It's fucking ridiculous. He walks back here, among the refuse of Xue Yang's experiments, and he looks appalled—like, really fucking offended—at the implication that he'd walk back a verbal promise. A gentleman's agreement, Xue Yang thinks, with barely restrained mirth. What, like Xue Yang was going to tattle if he broke it? (workplace sexual harassment)

4.He strikes out wildly, and it's caught. "Don't get violent!" a strained, but familiar voice murmurs. "It's just me."

Wei Wuxian. Jiang Cheng relaxes, but minutely. "What are you doing? It's the middle of the night."

There's silence for a moment; then, in the darkness, Wei Wuxian shifts closer. "I'm cold," he says, voice more distant and subdued than Jiang Cheng has ever heard before. "Shidi, won't you let me sleep in your bed?"

A ripple of fear goes up his spine; against his will he thinks of ghosts, of warnings that were instilled into him since early childhood. Wei Wuxian still smells like the battlefield, like scorched earth and fresh blood, and his hand is chilly where it lies atop Jiang Cheng's arm. And he doesn't complain, or joke, or press his cold hands under Jiang Cheng's shirt to make him curse and yell; just sits there, head bowed in silhouette in the faint light coming through a crack of the tent, perfectly still. (with curses spilling from your head)

5. Months since the last time someone had tried to command him, or months since someone had studied part of him—Wen Ning couldn't know which. There were fragments of all kinds of memories muddied together in his brain, fragile and ugly-heavy as scraps of paper soaked in brackish water. He couldn't help but resent the boy slightly, for even giving him a span of time, reminding him of the passage of it. Now that... now that there was nobody to call him, nobody he would answer to any longer, Wen Ning was quietly certain that he was sentenced to the dark forever. They wouldn't ever burn him, not when there was a vague hope that he'd buckle to their commands, or yield up some new secret.

He's lost in thought, foggy with it, and completely loses track of what's happening to his body. When he reels back, slowly, inch by inch, it's because there's... pressure on his mouth, faint but noticeable. The faint, tickling sensation of wet and warm air on his lips. Something touching his heavy, unmoving tongue.

Wen Ning returns to his eyes, looks out of them. The hanged-ghost boy is kissing him. He supposes there should be an accompanying shock of violation, but his first emotion is only confusion; then the utterly irrational thought of, Maybe I was wrong. Maybe it is Wei-gongzi after all. (we're ghosts and we're praying for winter)

6. Su She opens his mouth, but Xue Yang's not done. "And you know what else would be nice," he continues, voice bright and sweet and cracking like sugar candy on a cold morning. "is if I'd had a roof over my head as a kid, and food every day, and barely a kick every now and then, and then I'd gotten picked out of the crowd by one of the Great Sects. That I'd started training as a child, formed a proper golden core. Wouldn't that be lovely? And then I could sit around and whine about how hard my life was—"

"I don't," Su She blurts, then turned his face to the side. His whole face is flushed, now, with anger and shame. "I didn't say anything about me," he says, through his teeth. "I was talking about you."

"Yeah, me and what? Me and what reason to keep learning your stupid shit instead of figuring out what Wei Wuxian is doing, something I've got a better chance at?"

Su She says, in a stifled tone, "You're a genius." (build your home in me)

7. All he wants waits halfway up a nearby mountain. The boy sitting on a fallen log, playing a bamboo flute with dogged intensity, does not look like Wei Ying. Not very. If you let your eyes blur, half-closed or with tears, you could see a resemblance. He is still black-haired, still pale, still thin at wrist and waist; even more slender than before in the shoulders, shorter an inch or two of height. His face, wiped carelessly half-clean of makeup and blood, is hard to see, but the shape of it is wrong. He is younger, of course, than even Wei Ying was when he died. The body, Lan Wangji can guess, belongs to the missing mad boy from the Mo family. But the soul... the smoky energy swirling through the air, and the music drifting clear and coaxing from his flute...

Lan Wangji comes to a halt, heart pounding as if it is trying to rip its way out of his chest, fling itself bloody and steaming at Wei Ying's feet. He is still yards away, but he can't imagine Wei Ying hasn't noticed him; he isn't trying to hide, and the white of his robes stands out like a slash of lightning against the mossy scrub of the mountain's side. Still, for a few long moments, Wei Ying keeps playing. The music aches, yearns. Calling. But it seems to slip past Lan Wangji, drift out into the air behind him. It's not meant for him. (the ashes at thy feet)

8. A week and a half in, Li Mingyu asks, "What god are you going to dedicate it to?"

Jin Guangyao has been waiting for him to ask, somewhat amused at how long he neglects the simple question; more amused, now, at how he asks it like an afterthought. He could really stand to be better at spywork.

"I'm not sure," he says playfully. Perhaps this would reveal where his lying guest had been sent from. "Which god would you choose to aid the people of this village?"

Li Mingyu pauses in his work; breaking dug-up bushes into pieces small enough to feed to the stove. His back is to Jin Guangyao, the high dark tail of his hair pulled forward over his shoulder, nearly obscuring his features even when he slightly turns his face. 

"You know," he says, "people in this area sometimes pray to a ghost?" (a matted mass of dross and gold)

[duckapus]

Tales From the Grid: Wily's Meme Masters

While the Anchors are away on vacation and the firewall twins are still recovering from the battle against the CCC, the Syndicate decides to use these lowered defenses to check out one of the servers slated to be in the next batch of MRU universes. Namely, by having Crocker and Metal Timmy travel to the world of Mega Man Chaos and scope out Dr. Wily as a potential new recruit. He does so by having Metal magically insert ideas for a new set of Robot Masters and Fortress Guardians into the not-so-good doctor's mind.

A set based on the SMG4 Crew.

When the inevitable invasion proves even more chaotic than usual, Roll volunteers to handle the bosses while her brothers are busy with damage control all across Mega City.

And oh boy what a time she's in for.

The Robot Masters (the Wily Guardian Series)

(if you're wondering why the numbering is weird, it's because 3 and 4 are reserved)

WGN-001 Ink Woman Master Weapon: Splattershot Weakness: Inkweaver

WGN-002 Psycho Woman Master Weapon: Baka Hammer Weakness: Super Shotgun

WGN-005 Rap Man Master Weapon: Sonic Boop (now why would he have that?) Weakness: Baka Hammer

WGN-006 Shroom Guy Master Weapon: Super Shotgun Weakness: Bonk Bat

WGN-007 Arcade Woman Master Weapon: Pixelator Weakness: Sonic Boop

WGN-008 Manga Man Master Weapon: Inkweaver Weakness: Melon Blade (Roll is likely very confused about why he was designed to look like an Axolotl. To be fair so was Wily.)

WGN-009 Kat Woman Master Weapon: Bonk Bat Weakness: Splattershot

WGN-010 Melon Woman Master Weapon: Melon Blade Weakness: Pixelator

Fortress Guardians

WGN-00M & WGN-00L The Jump Men Defeat provides Jump Upgrade Package, providing: -Triple Jump -Backflip -Side Flip -Wall Kick -Long Jump (note: Wily somehow managed to replicate the BLJ glitch despite the fact that, from his perspective, it shouldn't have been physically possible. He's genuinely just That Good of a mad scientist.) -Ground Pound (signature technique of Jump Man Red) -Flutter Kick (Signature Technique of Jump Man Green) These are movement options, not Master Weapons, so they don't consume Weapon Energy and can be used in any form.

Boop Devil (Oh that's why Rap Man had that. Huh, aquatic Devil-series with a massive sonic attack and enough sapience to have an extremely personal vendetta. that'll be fun to deal with.)

Melon Deity (upgraded versions of three of the robot masters will be replacing the usual refights)

Shroom Slayer (complete with the full Doom Eternal arsenal and Anti-Shroomy's personality)

Agent Ink

Wily Battle

Super Wily Guardian 34 A giant mech with its colors split down the middle, SMG4's colors on the left and SMG3's on the right. Along with the usual Wily Machine abilities and the fact that it has arms and legs, it also has the ability to summon energy constructs based on memes to fight and access to every single explosives-based Master Weapon in the series. It also has two self-aware AIs included to help Wily keep track of everything, and they spend most of the battle bickering like an old married couple. Once this is all over the Lights will probably be building them separate bodies.

[themorguepoet]

I find it hypocritical when hindu boys say "jai shree ram" and follow tate- all in the same day. Bro wtf are you high on?

Like I don't even get this glorification of him among the Indian youth. His concepts of masculinity and femininity are half baked. Western concepts don't apply to us either. Are you lacking neurons or are you just intellectually lazy? "He tells us to go gym" yeah bro- no one was fit in India until Tate baba said so yeah? *haryanvis having hanuman ji as the fitness-eight pack-strength icon while absolutely killing in the wrestling area* *Kohli apparently couldn't inspire Indian men for fitness as good as Tate did* Lame loser justifications to follow a narcissist.

Indian concept of masculinity and femininity does not require a western lens no thank you. We have Gauri-Shankar, Lakshmi-Narayan, Sita-Ram etc that guide our societal roles here. Everything that Tate baba says is a sign of a "High value man" happens to have feminine symbolism in your culture you ignorant child. Knowledge, Wealth and Power. high value men things right? Sorry to break it to you. Here in India, Knowledge is Ma Saraswati, Wealth & Prosperity is Ma Lakshmi and Power is Literally Adi Shakti Ma Parvati.

Let me clarify more for you. First of all, there is no complete masculine man or feminine woman. Everyone has varying rates of masculinity and femininity within them. What do these terms even mean. Well in easy words, the way masculine traits could be described from indic lens cpuld be with the imagery of a mountain; strong, reliable, changes are slow almost unseen, protective (hailing to how himalayas protect us from the blizzards) while feminine imagery could be that of a river- always moving, unstoppable in its path, destructive rage but also equally nurturing, unpredictable, frequent change, adaptable etc.

These are some traits that can be associated with the terms. Now if your neurons haven't picked up yet, these traits aren't exclusive for a male or a female respectively. Men can have the qualities of adaptability, can be nurturing too. Women can be rigid, strong and reliable. These traits can be found in any gender. So for the "women ☕️" meme fans you also have feminine traits within you- to suppress emotions is actually a feminine trait much more than it is "masculine"- Shri Rama cried his heart out when he lost Ma Sita. Bhagwaan Shiva carried devi satis burnt body in his arms for many many eons, screaming in distress. Krishna adorned himself with vaijyanti flower garlands, peacock feathers while simultaneously holding sudarshan which is capable of destroying the three worlds at his command. I don't understand how Tate Baba's words appear enlightening to you when it is so contradictory to your culture which you claim to be the flag bearer of? Sit down. You know nothing Jon snow.

Without Shakti, even Shiva ji is powerless. However without bhagwaan Shiva- shakti still holds her powers but without any direction. Divine masculine becomes the channel for the divine Feminine. Without devi lakshmi, even Vaikuntha remains in gloom. The world is born, run and destroyed by the feminine traits.

The Masculine is the anchor, the Feminine is the power. Without Shiv ji, Ma Kali's rage would be unrestrained, directionless- he roots her but he neither commands nor controls her. Her capability is not reliant on anyone but herself- only the effects of her shakti can be and are supposed to be managed by her counterpart.

Shri Rama couldn't command Ma Sita into staying back at Ayodhya, he couldn't control her from going back to Prithvi Ma when she felt disrespected by her own subjects and made a decision for herself. He did not try to restrain her independent expressions. Meanwhile Ma Sita remained with Shri Ram throughout. In his exile he had no wealth, no power (army power is what I mean). But the lack of neither made him "low value man"- and Ma Sita did not care.

I am frustrated and tired. I will end it here because if you didn't get it this far- sorry buddy you are a little too far gone, I can only pray that Ma Saraswati knock some sense into you.

For the love of Krishna, do not enforce the idea of marriage being a contract? or a give and take idea? Like I bring the money you bring the pretty? Please don't get brainwashed by the western idea of what marriage is. Marriage in India is sacred. At the time of wedding the couple are no less than Lakshami-Narayan themselves as per the customs. So come out of this non sense. And go to gym. Our dieties, our lore heroes, our legends don't carry their abs and diamond-hard biceps with ten different weapons just for you to go and take fitness lessons from a rando on Internet.

[grammarknighty]

What us your take on Juri? Cannot find post that summarizes it

Juri is a kid with a lot of unresolved feelings.

First, her mom died causing her to lose her emotional anchor. The lack of emotional support from her dad didn't help either.

He probably realized this and used it as a reason to remarry so she could have a mom who can take of her better than he could. But from Juri's perspective and also due to his lacking communication skill, she's seeing it as he dad replacing her mom.

I meme a lot that Juri dislikes her stepmom, but they're definitely not close to each other in canon. Can't say much about her half-brother since he doesn't appear much, and I can't find the clips with him either. But at least from memory I can tell he's comfortable enough with her so she probably treats him well.

Juri's family life is a stark contrast to pretty much everyone else's in the series. Even Ruki and Ryo whose mom and dad respectively have to raise them as single parents have healthier and functional family relationships.

Living in a emotionally absent home, it's no surprise Juri is drawn to Takato who wears his emotion on his sleeves. It's also worth noting that being an only child he's likely spoiled a lot too, a luxury she doesn't have. Amongst all the parents in the series, his parents are the most supportive that even confides in them before leaving to the Digital World. None of the other Tamers kids does this at this point in the series, or at least not to this degree of trust.

Juri loves her dad, there's no doubt about that. Otherwise she wouldn't imprint her desire for a strong knight in shining armor in the form of her Leomon-sama who can sweep her off her feet and pull her into his arms. Girl just wants a hug, you know. From a shirtless big buff furry guy, yeah, but still.

Near the end of the anime, we can see her dad trying to save her from the D-Reaper so we know that he does love her too. The anime doesn't show it, but I'm positive they have a heart-to-heart talk after the end of the story.

[demacianbrawn]

memes / accepting / @pitgritted: you promised me you'd stop doing that.

The sweat dripping down his back and the burning in his arms anchored him as his fists collided with the dummy over and over. Sett's invitation to use the training ground while he was here had been a welcome one, a solo act of physical hardship was sometimes better than the training he did with his soldiers back home. Here he could get lost in his mind, letting just his body take over, gone was the armor, the burdens on his shoulders. In here he was a just a man, raw flesh and muscle with the only sounds being his grunts and the slamming of fists against relatively cushioned targets.

His knuckles were bruised, he knew that, and Garen was even aware he needed to slow down and yet by the time the dummy thwacked back into him after an impressive blow, all he could do was smile once the blood trickled down his own nose from just how hard the dummy had smacked him. Of course that smile immediately disappeared once Sett's voice rang out behind him. Garen turns, stone faced and breaths ragged so his shoulders rose and fall as he wipes at his nose.

" Apologies. I got a little into it . . . again. " He grumbles, his expression still neutral, though his gaze does soften an inch. " If it's broken I can pay for a new one. " Glancing back at the dummy, inspects it with his eyes before turning back to his host, grabbing for a nearby rag and wiping the sweat from his face. " Thank you again for letting me use this place. I find that I don't get a lot of training done whenever I visit anywhere that isn't home, it's a nice change of pace to be somewhere where the people love physical labors as much as I do. " It no doubt was the most honest and open he'd been with Sett since meeting the man, a fact that made the Demacian feel a little guilty.

Sett had been welcoming and forthright and yet Garen had a constant wall, a barrier set firmly in place between most people he met. He had often told himself that it was because of his life dedicated to duty and Demacia, but now? He wondered if there was just something wrong with him that he didn't allow himself to just relax fully and accept people at face value.

" Did you want the room? I can get out of your way. "

[serendertothesquad]

Seren's Studies: Odd Squad UK -- "The Odd Ness Monster" Episode Followup, Part 2

The process of elimination of the weird-ass calendar seasons continues, below the break!

"And autumn."

"Or fall, as Orli would call it."

Behold: the first moment in the episode to make me frown wider than a mile. Stolen joke from "Trials and Tubulations" which did it much better, mixed in with a ham-fisted Orli mention that includes the entire damn pig.

Onom, I love you, but don't. Just...don't.

I mean...to be fair, Captain O could lock them in here if she wanted to be a sadistic lil' shit.

But she's not, so she won't.

FUCK YOU AND THE TIME CARDS YOU RODE IN ON, EDITOR.

That aside, this episode is gonna fuck with the timeline so much and I'm sure every OG crew member fucking knows it.

And shockingly, they went five entire months without Captain O noticing them. Which, considering how often she leaves her office, is some bullshit.

Oprah? Sure. I can believe they'd avoid Oprah for five months.

Captain O? Not on your never life.

"Onom, Orwell, it's June the 1st. Isn't there somewhere you need to be?"

"...At the...be-"

"I am armed and loaded with an anchor that has killed more men than in World War II. Don't make me have your heads as part of my own raffle. Get down there and check on the monster."

I do like how it cuts to them back down in the multi-sub basement mid-groan.

The Rockington Club Smasher? Either the Guardian of the Rocks has another relative, or it's the first caveman villain in Odd Squad's history.

...Okay, well, fuck. I wanted it to be a caveman villain. But my whims are too unrealistic doo-bee-doo.

"How dare you! It's the second best-selling Odd Ness Monster book!"

How much you wanna bet that information he left out prevented it from becoming the top best-selling Odd Ness Monster book?

Man's whining about being stuck down here until June 30th, but put it in perspective...is it better or worse than being stuck down there for an entire year?

I mean, personally I'd say it's better, but y'know...

I actually forgot I passed by a tweet that mentioned this wizard, which was posted by their actor. I also forgot I was howling at the name "Destructo McBaddington" because it's either the world's silliest name made up by a child or the name of a D&D player with whimsy.

It's so stupid but so charming! I love it!

Methinks Destructo could take a few tips from The Shadow when it comes to cool stuff done with capes.

Wrapping yourself up in it like you're cold ain't it.

elderly lady

has a biscuit that turns people into frogs

So this is a witch, and they just don't want to namedrop "witch", perhaps because it carries negative connotations or because it sounds like "bitch" too much.

Mm. Okay. Got it. Fuck you because I'm pretty sure witches have been mentioned before in PBS Kids Halloween episodes.

I hear it's truncated to just Exposition: The Book. Title character limit, y'know.

Okay, if there's one thing I don't like about this episode, it's how absolutely ham-fisted Orli is shoved in here. Clearly either Asha was getting paid per namedrop, or there was a gun to Paul's head in the form of "mention Orli at least once or you're fired."

Could mention Ozzie to mix things up, but no...no.

There are two kinds of Main Character Syndrome.

Self-inflicted, and forced into.

"...and everyone knows the Odd Ness Monster doesn't work weekends."

I will choose to ignore this bullshit contrivance because it's one bad seed in a flourishing garden.

Doesn't mean I can't hate it and wish for its death, though.

Orwell's got about as stellar of a time management skill as Owen, without the frequent breaks.

*deep inhale*

No. Based on how this season has gone thus far? No. I can't say anything about the Lorem ipsum text. I can't. It speaks for itself.

I'm not keen on calling this a meme that has made its way into Odd Squad...but hearing Captain O saying this is fucking sending me.

That's why you put Creature Care agents on the job, ding-dong. That's what their department does. It ain't much, but it's honest work for 'em.

Orwell remarking that it was a hard job is once again reminding me of Owen. Truly, he's following in the footsteps of the greats.

ALL OF THAT...TO PLAY "TWINKLE TWINKLE LITTLE STAR"?????? ARE YOU SERIOUS?!?!?!?!?!

Oh, bro...dear God...I'm sorry, but that is the most ridiculous shit any episode in this season has ever built up to. It's simple, it's stupid, but I'm cackling all the same.

See, this raises some questions, though. How does she eat and drink? How is she living this long? If she's immortal, fine, but exactly how long does she live for?

All of these questions and more will be answered when Seren divorces her husband, which is never!

Omar had to throw in his own two cents at the end, just for funsies. Just because he can. Just because it's a silent plea to Paul to take him to the doctor. Just because he was offered a hefty check if he put 'em in.

At least Orli meandered over to the swivel chair before collapsing. Orwell didn't even make it to the bed that is five steps away from him. (And looks like a bed in a jail cell, but that's besides the point.)

And your credits for this episode. We even get a voice credit for the jackalope this time around, which I guess we can contribute to all its other appearances in the season as well.

(Though...who, exactly, is Thrug?)

----------------------------

Overall...yeah, y'all were right, this was a good episode. I wasn't sold on Onom and Orwell as a pairing in "Miss Information", but I like the dynamic they put on display here. It's just a silly goofy ahh fun time with two agents who looked at Owen and went "lol okay we can do that." With Captain O as backup for good measure.

Also, Destructo McBaddington. Best bitch witch in the west. Just don't pour water on her.

Next up on the list is "Oddtober the Thirteenth", which is the last episode in this week's batch. For some reason, "Agent Overhill's Last Day" isn't lumped in with it, so we'll have to wait for that one. Here's hoping both are just as good as this episode was.

Seren out!