#tally expert

[scopethings-blog]

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[harrylights]

do you have any tips for people beginning to learn crochet?

i’ve only been doing it for a lil over a year now but here’s what i got for u anon (this is pretty much exactly what i did to start off w tbh)

-use midsize needles (5-5.5mm) and 4 or 5 thickness yarn in lighter colours bc it’ll be easier to see what you’re doing

-start with making squares of basic stitches like single crochet and double crochet to start getting the hang of it

-granny squares are a great way to practice! you can eventually connect them into a bag or sweater (or blanket if u wanna go there) or they make nice lil coasters just as one square

-video tutorials made things make sense in my brain but everyone’s different

-ravelry.com is an AMAZING resource, you can search for a pattern for pretty much anything you could think of and it has a great filtered search function to find ones that are free/easy to make etc

-there’s no shame in unravelling and starting over again or using the yarn for smth else entirely! imo that’s one of the great things about crochet, you can always start over without wasting anything and it was good practice either way

[vtechiepteltd]

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[silentwalrus1]

I like to think about what if the Kaminoans just, fucked all the way up and made the clones telepaths on purpose.

Kamino is in the Rishi maze, the equivalent of total buttfuck nowhere. This is like a cattle processing plant in rural Montana manufacturing an order for Shenzhen as outlined by a third party intermediary from Monaco who keeps contact with neither production nor “client” and nobody’s first language is Basic. Jedi are like, totally psychic right? Right. Psychic army for psychic clients, sounds right, checks out. There are whole ass telepathic alien species out there, some of which are also Jedi. Why would they want NON-psychic clones. Get it done, Tally Ho or Nala Says or whatever her name is. Chop chop.

Cue like seven years into production and the Kaminoan project leads are starting to get some… inklings…. that maybe some of the deliverable specs were perhaps not so much well-researched as based off cross-galactic hearsay some underpaid analysts pulled off space reddit. This is a business, okay? You’re not gonna make profit manufacturing two million units of fucking anything if you treat it like a luxury product, but especially not if the product has goddamn childhood development & socialization needs. Of fucking course some shit maybe slipped through the cracks. What are we supposed to fucking do now, Lama goddamn Sue sir, tell the Jedi or the pickled fucking Sith that oopsie woopsie, we got the specs wrong half a decade in and have to start over again?

No. No we are not. We are going to lie our fucking semi-aquatic asses off, is what we’re gonna do, and so will you clones if you know what’s good for you. NONE of you are fucking psychic, and you never were. Got that? Understood?

Fast forward to Jedi pickup D-Day and every time anyone with a lightsaber gets within aural biosystem of choice distance the clones immediately start loudly and dutifully Having Conversations.

Hello Commander Sir, It Is I, Trooper McSoldierClone, What A Weather It Is Today, Ha Ha? Over. Yes Indeed McTrooper One Two Three Four, I Am Agree, Now Here Is An Order To Follow Which I Am Vociferously Giving You, Acknowledge Orally, Over. Every clone making rock-hard sweating eye contact like don’t fuck it up as they mentally chant encouragement and script notes and jeering performance feedback at each other. Cadets trooping to fucking speech practice to learn speaking out loud with all the enthusiasm and skill of the average white suburban Floridian teenager taking their fifth mandatory Spanish 1 class. The jedi are like damn these poor asylum grown freaks are so unsocialized and uncomfortable around us, Their Owners, this is so tragic and horrid and unfortunate and meanwhile every clone standing silently in formation is mentally spectating the 400-person telepathic tetris team sport they invented with the same vibes as a football world cup back alley street party complete with official & unofficial betting pools and expert panel commentary

[always-coffee]

WV Libraries Are Under Attack: How to Help

News came out yesterday that West Virginia House passed House Bill 4654. This would remove “bona fide schools, public libraries, and museums from the list of exemptions from criminal liability relating to distribution and display to a minor of obscene matter. …”

Potentially criminalizing librarians is bad, and it’s straight out of the fascist playbook. “Opponents of the bill said that while the bill does not ban books, the bill would have unintended consequences for public and school libraries, resulting in increases in challenges to even classic books and attempts to criminally charge librarians over books not pornographic in nature, but books that include descriptions of sex. They also said it could result in improper criminal charges against library staff,” Steven Allen Adams writes.

So, the question is: now what? What do we do? Where do we go from here?

If you live in West Virginia, call you state senate reps. You can find them listed here.

It’s okay to keep your message short:

“Hi, I’m [full name] calling from [ZIP code], and I’m a constituent of [Senator Name]. I am calling to voice my opposition to Bill 4654, because this is a dangerous step toward book banning. It could potentially harm librarians and libraries, which is incredibly wrong. Do not back this dangerous bill.

You can also ask how many people have called to voice their opposition to this bill. This may annoy the person on the phone, but they technically have to answer you. They may be evasive anyway. But you can either give them your contact information and tell them you’d like a call back or you can call back again later and ask for the tally.

The thing is, people rarely call in. A handful of calls is considered a lot, and the best thing you can do right now is make yourself a nuisance. Good trouble, etc.

Only call if you live in West Virginia, because they do not count calls from those outside their constituency. I am obviously not an expert, but if you have additional questions, ask them and I’ll try to help. I learned way more about how politics work during the last presidency than I thought humanly possible.

Additional resources:

[whateveriwant]

No thoughts, just Punk!Simon.

Punk!Simon who dresses like he shops exclusively at Hot Topic. We're talking band t-shirts, combat boots, leather anything he can get his hands on. His style is bold, accessories maximized, and his entire wardrobe can be condensed into one of three colors: black, gray, and dark gray.

Punk!Simon who likes to wear lots of jewelry. Thick chains, bulky rings, decorative pins pressed into his jackets. His pieces are mostly silver and always real, none of that fake, turn your skin green shit. Keep him far away from metal detectors because he will set them off.

Punk!Simon who listens to only the grungiest of grunge rock music. Ask him for recommendations and he's spouting off six or seven bands that are so underground they may as well reside in the Earth's mantle. Don't leave him in charge of the playlist when driving together unless you want a bad case of tinnitus for the next four hours.

Punk!Simon who’s tatted up to high heaven. You thought he only had his left sleeve done, until you saw him working out without his shirt on one day. Turns out it doesn't just stop at his shoulder, but continues downward, wrapping around his trunk like vines of black and gray ivy.

Punk!Simon who's sporting more than one set of piercings. You ask him how many he has and (with a smirk) he tells you six, and you try to take a mental tally of the ones you've seen. 1) eyebrow 2) industrial 3) nostril 4) snake bites 5) areolas 6) . . . 6) . . . . . Huh. Where's the sixth?

Punk!Simon who experiments with a little body modification. Not just the normal piercings and tattoos, but things many people would consider to be on the more extreme side. Stretched lobes, sharpened canines, . . . bifurcated tongue? 👀

Punk!Simon who, on an uncharacteristically unmasked day, grabs your attention as you enjoy a round of drinks with friends. One minute you were sitting there, chatting, just minding your business, and the next your gaze was locked onto Simon's tongue as it darted out from in between his plump lips. You tried not to let your eyes linger, but you couldn't help it. You'd never seen something like that before in person. A tongue split right down the center, cut with surgical precision from the looks of it. It had clearly been done on purpose, not an accident or deformity, but you hadn't expected to see it as you watched him lick away a bourbon droplet from the corner of his mouth. As you stare, said mouth then curves slyly, impish, into a grin just shy of wicked. The movement makes your eyes dart upwards, where they meet Simon's, and he's giving you a look that says one thing: Caught you.

With that taunting expression, Simon turns in his seat, plants his elbows on the table, and blocks out the rest of your group as he asks lowly, “Somethin’ the matter, sweet’eart?”

His tone makes you startle, eyes rounding in surprise, mouth fluttering open and closed like a flailing fish. “N-No, I was– I– You– I–”

“Wha's wrong?” His brow furrows, teasing. “Cat got your tongue?”

Oh, the bastard.

But the reminder has your gaze dropping back to his lips unthinkingly, almost like you secretly wish he'll grant you another peek for your sick fascination.

He doesn't, keeps that serpentine tongue tucked within the confines of his jaw, but it's like he can read your mind because his smile curves further, drawing even closer to you as he says, “Curious?”

It's like the rattling of a deadly snake's tail, the way he hisses out the question. It means to warn you of danger ahead, of expert predation, of total and utter annihilation should you let him take a bite.

You drag your eyes back up to his smoky ones, half expecting to find slitted pupils that speak of poison. There isn't, just a mirthful quirk to his brow, and a solitary nod is all you can offer him in return.

“‘S alright.” He tips his chin in encouragement. “Go on, then. Ask.”

Another glance to his lips as you rummage through the dense brush that entangles your brain. Plucking one of the first you find, you ask, “Does it hurt?” eyes moving back to his.

That earns a little chuckle from Simon, an even smaller shake of the head. “Not now that it's healed,” he tells you truthfully, cheek dimpled in amusement. A beat passes, him waiting for another of your questions, and when you don't conjure one up, he jokes, “That it?” Clearly, he expected a barrage.

You take a second, searching for another, then simply, “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why'd you do it?”

Simon raises his shoulder in a shrug. “Dunno. Wanted to do somethin’ fun; different I s’pose,” his reasoning is as carefree as his voice sounds. He leans back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “Plus, ‘s more useful than you think,” he tacks on at the end, something mischievous glinting in his eye. Deception maybe. Bait definitely.

Useful, he says? You doubt it. Having a second tongue sounds like a burden honestly. You'd have to learn how to talk, eat, and drink all over again, just like when you were a small child. But if he said so, and with such confidence, then it begs the question: “How?”

How is having a second tongue useful?

Throughout your entire conversation, Simon's maintained steady eye contact with you, his focus never faltering from yours. But now, as your brow creases in confusion, Simon breaks away, lids lowering as he gazes down at the floor. He rolls a thought around his head for a moment, that cheeky look still etched into his face. When he huffs an amused breath through his nose, it only deepens his smirk that much more, and then slowly, painfully unrushed, his eyes rake up, up, up your body, until settling on yours once again.

The look he gives you now is dark, a grin like the devil’s as he peers up at you. The tip of his forked tongue pokes out as it makes another swipe across his bottom lip.

No thoughts, except for Punk!Simon who takes you back to his place and shows you just how useful two tongues can be.

[lilitargaryen5]

I think Tally would tell the DB, “remember if anyone is going to take care of your wardrobe, it will be me.”

Laella: Look Tally, Delphine gave me this outfit to go to the Thalmor embassy :3

(Yes, she dyed her hair )

Taliesin :What!? No way! This mission is postponed, Taliesin takes Lealla by the wrist, We are going on urgent shopping, I said urgent

[moon-river-me]

hey i saw you're open to requests!

What about a hotch x reader fic where he's reunited with an old friend on a case and he gets all flirty and flustered? No angst, happy ending if poss 👀

Aaron Hotchner x lawyer!reader

sfw, reuniting, fem reader <3 no haley or jack mentioned and no specific season

Eyes meet across the room. Warmth fills his gut. He knows those eyes, he memorized those eyes, he loved those eyes.

“Aaron?” your voice still sounded the same, like honey and warmth, like the soft and lulling pitter patter of rain on a spring’s night. Just how he remembered.

You made a B-line for him, at a determined speed. That’s another thing he remembered about you, so determined. Throughout all of law school you both would compete, for anything and everything, you almost always won.

“It’s really you, huh?” looking at him with so much admiration he needed to break the contact. “So, what’s a hotshot FBI agent doing here? Come back to beat the score.” You jest, hitting his elbow with your own. The score was something sacred back in your university days. It was a tally between you two, one that would update every time one of you got a higher grade, an award, a commendation, or stayed sober the longest, the last one was always biased. He fondly remembered nights of drunken giggles and takeout while watching badly written court tv shows on your thrifted couch.

“Oh no, those days are long gone. Any more tequila and my liver will go into failure.” A ghost of a smile paints his lips.

“I still get flashbacks after a mere whiff of the thing.” Your laughing sounding more of an amused snort, not caring who saw you. That was something Aaron always loved  liked about you, not once in the entire time he knew you did you ever care about how others viewed you. You were so uniquely you that he truly believes if another you appeared one day, the earth would stop spinning.

Emily and Morgan walked up behind him; he could see their smirks through the back of his head. “Hotch, I didn’t take you for a tequila connoisseur,” Derek was in view now, offering his hand to you, “Derek Morgan.”

“y/n l/n,” you state as you shake, “and you should have seen him in our second year of law, god I thought I was going to have to drag him to emergent care some nights.” Your words were embarrassing, but your eyes were filled to the brim with joyfulness, you make eye contact once again and it is as if the world stops. “But of course I was no better so I would be a hypocrite to say anymore.” You grin, your lip getting a slight tug from your teeth. Aaron felt himself blush as his brain began to create images of that lip, and those teeth, and that smile, and oh those beautiful eyes.

You noticed the change in his demeanor, you always had. Except this time, your eyes twinkled in victory. “So, what do you guys need?” you turn you head towards Emily, although your gaze is stuck like honey to Aarons eyes.

“We were told that you were the prosecutor for the case we are working on. We came to discuss some things about the trial.”

“Oh of course, let me just grab the file. One second.” You turned to walk to your office; it was just principle that Aaron followed you, no other reason.  “Come on agent Hotchner, the file isn’t going to find itself, I need your expert profiling skills to uncover it.” You laugh as you reach your office. Aaron looked at his very amused coworkers and felt the flush of his cheeks get 2 shades darker.

“I don’t know who she is or if they have a history, but he followed her like a dog.” Morgan states, a belly laugh following as he finishes his senses.

Emily observed you through the glass, your head thrown back in laughter, and Hotch’s eyes staring at you with something that could only describe as a child on Christmas morning.

“He is whipped.”

A/N

short and sweet but trust me I will start doing longer ones.

requests are still open, please give feedback.

ik it's not the best but I hope you like it.

[envysparkler]

hugs

It’s not that nobody else’s hugs are good.  Dick is the master of cuddling, Cass always knows when to go for a hug and when to back off, and Damian’s hugs are the most adorable thing in the world.  Tim does hugs like he thinks they’ll disappear if he doesn’t grip tight enough, Steph hugs like she’s trying to break ribs, and Bruce, as always, is warmth and love and home.

But.  But a Jason Todd Hug is special.

Jason is still prickly, still determinedly straddling the line between outsider and family no matter how many people want to pull him back, and he rarely ever attends the family dinners or parties or any get-together when he’s not in the mask.

But sometimes he forgets, forgets that he’s pretending not to be their brother, forgets that he’s keeping them at arm’s length.  Sometimes he wraps his arms around them – easily, because he grew up to be the tallest, grew up the most like Bruce – and envelops them in warmth and leather and gun oil and protection.

A Jason Todd Hug is special because it means he cares.  Because it feels like a victory.  Because it feels like family, like returning home after a long vacation, like sleeping in their own bed and knowing that nothing will ever get them.

Nobody makes the colossal mistake of daring to say this out loud, lest they get cut off forever.

Until Damian squirms out of Dick’s grasp and snaps, “You’re not Todd, you can’t hug me.”

Dick’s mind goes blank.  Tim, on the Batcomputer, stops typing.  Steph pokes her head out of the medbay, eyes wide.

Dick recovers and then immediately scans the Cave.  No Jason in sight, thank god.

“You can’t just say things like that, Dami,” Dick hisses, “Do you want him to sulk and never come back here again?”

“You’ve gotten a Jason Todd Hug?” Steph asks, eyes wide and betrayed, “How?  How did the baby assassin get a hug?  I’ve been trying for months!”

“You’ve been trying to get a hug from Jason?” Tim blinks at her, while Dick mouths ‘months?’.

“Sure, after I saw you practically melt into it,” Steph says, pouting, “You never do that with Dick’s hugs.  I thought it must be something special.”

“That’s because you never encourage Dick, he will hold on and never let go,” Tim says, eyes dark as he grumbles over his coffee.  Dick magnanimously chooses to ignore that statement.

“It isn’t that difficult,” Dick smiles at her, “Either you go for the ‘looking pathetic’ route, or you ambush him.”

Steph looks like she wants to take notes.  Damian huffs, “Who made you the expert on Todd’s hugs?”

“Well, I get the most hugs, so I should be the expert,” Dick explains reasonably.

Damian and Tim eye him speculatively.  Oops.

“Care for a friendly wager?” Tim asks with a shark smile.

That’s when the whiteboard goes up.

Steph’s in favor of writing ‘Jason Todd Hugs’ on it, but Dick convinces her to keep it to initials because if Jason ever finds out, the competition will be over permanently.  They all add their names to the list.

“Alright, any time anyone gets a hug, we add a tally mark,” Dick says, “No maiming, bribery, or blackmail allowed.”  Standard rules.

“When do we end the competition?” Tim asks.

Dick frowns.  If Jason’s in a Mood then it might be weeks before anyone gets a hug from him, and he wants this to be fair.  To give the munchkins a chance.

“First to ten?” Steph suggests.

“Sounds good,” Dick agrees, “Though if we’re getting Jason’s hugs, we’re already winners.”

They all shake on it, and the whiteboard goes up near a board of other miscellaneous stuff, not hidden but definitely out of visible line of sight for anyone who enters the Cave through the garage entrance and spends only five minutes before leaving again.

~#~

C is added to the list of participants the next day, without any notice or explanation.

~#~

There is a little scribble of a bat on the whiteboard by the end of the week.  There is also a W squeezed in between the T and H in the title.

The competitors look at each other across the Cave and nod.  The battle is on.

~#~

Cass is the first one who gets on the scoreboard, mainly because she drops in on top of Jason on one of his rare visits to the Cave.

Jason was arguing with Bruce, his jaw tightening, his expression shifting from irritation to frustration when the Black Bat drops from the rigging and knocks him flat against the mats.

Jason stares up at her, bewildered.  “Did you fall?” he asks.  Cass widens her eyes in lieu of outright lying, and flops on top of him.  Jason automatically wraps his arms around her and she relaxes into the hug.

“You should be more careful,” he says quietly.

Cass hums, and lets her head rest against the thump-thump of his heartbeat.

When Jason has left, motorcycle roaring away, she takes the marker and draws a single line below the C.

Tim shoots her a dirty look.

~#~

“It’s not fair,” Tim glowers at Dick, hair half-sticking up on one side, as Dick dramatically and pointedly adds another tally to his score, bringing it up to four.

Jason nearly stabbed him, but it’s worth it.

“I gave you my secrets, baby bird,” Dick laughs, “What more do you want?”

“You and Cass just.  Attack him with hugs,” Tim waves his hands to make his point, “That’s not fair!”

“You could attack him with hugs too,” Dick points out.

Tim gives him a flat look.  “Somehow I have a feeling that won’t go over well.”

Dick shrugs, hiding his smirk.  “That sounds like a you problem.”

~#~

He notices it on a visit to the Cave, a whiteboard that’s clearly a new addition, emblazoned with JTWH in Dick’s handwriting.  The W is smaller than the rest, like it was squeezed in after.

Underneath it is a long line of initials with tally marks underneath.  D, T, DW, S, C, and a little stylized bat.  The whole gang.  (Except him.)

Dick is clearly winning, with five tallies under his name, though someone seems to have scrawled in ‘cheater’ underneath those.  Cass is in second place with three, Replacement and Batgirl have tied for third with two, Babs has one, and Damian has a half for some reason.  Bruce, he’s happy to see, is losing.

He doesn’t mention it.  He’s distracted by the case they’re working on, and then by patrol, and by the time he remembers it, he’s irritable and sleep-deprived and bitter enough that the idea that they left him out of their competition fits right at home with his aching heart.

~#~

“What’s JTWH?” he asks, because the whiteboard is in his line of sight and it never stopped bothering him.  Jason tries to keep his voice casual, tries to not ruin the pleasant mood in the Cave, but his next words are a little too sharp.  “And why am I not on the scoreboard?”

Everyone goes silent in a way that’d be freaky if they weren’t all piled on top of him.  He can practically hear the looks being exchanged around him.

“What, afraid I was going to smoke all of you at your competition?” Jason asks.  More looks.  Jason tenses, waiting for it – the ‘you said you’re not part of this family’ and ‘you never asked’ and ‘we forgot’.

“You are,” Cass says simply, patting his head.

“I am what?”

“On board.”

Jason squints at the whiteboard.  Nope, he can’t see his name on it.  “No, I’m not.  And no one told me about any competition either.”

“Silly goose,” Cass says, which has become her favorite phrase ever since Bruce used it once, “You are.  Top.”

Jason frowns, because he still doesn’t – JTWH.  Oh.

“And what do the rest of the letters stand for?” Jason grumbles, wondering what they’re tracking.  How many days since he killed someone.  How many days since he’s threatened them.  How many times he’s yelled at them.  “Jason Todd Was Here?  Jason Todd Water Hose?  Jason Todd –”

“Wayne,” Bruce says quietly from next to him.  “Jason Todd-Wayne.”

Jason swallows.  He can’t quite look at Bruce.  “What does the H stand for?”

Everyone gives each other shifty looks.

“Oh, wow, that bad, huh.”

“Hugs,” Steph rolls her eyes, “Jason Todd-Wayne Hugs.  So, no, actually, you can’t win, because you can’t give yourself a hug.”

Jason blinks at her.

“Steph,” Tim whines from somewhere near his elbow.

“I said that no one was allowed to tell,” Dick sighs, “I said it explicitly.  I warned you all.”

“Tt.  If the competition ends because of you, Brown, I will take my vengeance.”  Damian’s grip tightens on Jason’s leg.

“Well, it was either the truth or whatever his imagination was coming up with,” Steph shrugs.  She’s looking at him like he’s going to disappear.

“Wait,” Jason croaks, because he lost the thread of this conversation somewhere, “You’ve been having a competition…over hugs?”

“Over your hugs.”

[reason-with-the-underdog]

[conspiracy voice] alhaitham & kaveh can't get married yet

because the akademiya has only just finished its tally of innovations stemming from their unfinished student thesis

and the akademiya is nowhere near ready to cope with the breakthroughs & insights from another collaborative project (their marriage)

their application for grant funding will mysteriously be entangled in bureaucratic red tape & then be stuck in "under review" status for ages

until alhaitham gets annoyed & suggests self-funding bc their first preliminary paper has been completed for a week already (kaveh had 5 coffees & drafted it in one very long work session before taking the nap of his life)

imagine finally meeting god for the first time (though your fiance rescued her and then was her direct report for several months) because she's the one pulling strings to make sure you two can get married before the next century

you got that? now you know what kaveh feels like 🫠

100% the case, they're having so much fun sitting on the couch together arguing over preferred citation style

meanwhile the patent office is urgently putting out ads for new hires ASAP!!! and someone has to find consultants to review their work bc who can fact check them…

someone realises that obviously the experts in their fields who has sufficient background to fact-chec their findings is madam faruzan

which is how faruzan finds out alhaitham & kaveh are getting married & now she won't shut up about traditional marriage customs from 100 yrs ago

thanks for the discussion river!!

[allthecanadianpolitics]

This story is part of CBC Health's Second Opinion, a weekly analysis of health and medical science news emailed to subscribers on Saturday mornings. If you haven't subscribed yet, you can do that by clicking here.

As measles cases keep appearing in more parts of the country, new projections suggest there's a high chance Canada may experience a "sizable outbreak" — with anywhere from dozens to thousands of people infected if the disease strikes communities with low vaccination rates.

As of Friday, at least 31 cases of measles have been reported so far this year across Canada, according to a CBC News tally of provincial and regional figures released by public health teams.

That's already the largest annual total since 2019 and more than double the number of cases reported last year, as medical experts fear the number will rise while more Canadians travel in and out of the country this month for March break. [...]

Continue Reading.

Tagging: @politicsofcanada, @vague-humanoid

[covid-safer-hotties]

"This projection overshoots wastewater counts!" Yeah! Because not every single sewage treatment system is equipped for wastewater testing, and by using a conservative analytical model to add those cases that go uncounted because of septic tank use and unsurveilled systems to the total, we can get a more accurate view of the real covid risk in near-real-time! How are people who deal with numbers on the daily so clueless when it comes to how statistical models work and are supposed to be used? Do they think humans are omniscient? We can't detect what isn't being tested! That's why groups like PCM and People's CDC exist and do the work they do, because we know the numbers are a purposeful undercount to keep people calm and shopping and at work. It's about risk assessment with the information we have, not a super accurate tally of the things we saw as *the* sum total and there's no room for human or governmental error... fuck...

When the government started obfuscating covid data in 2022, more people were on board with the idea that projections give you a better understanding of risk so you can best protect yourself. What changed that made them want to assure only the lowest and slowest-coming numbers were the ones people use to assess risk? Why are these same people also downplaying and ignoring the broad societal and personal risks of long covid to EVERYONE. It's like the classic capitalist "Line go up exponentially forever no problem" but for covid denial: Measuring impact and severity by confirmed case and death counts alone aren't giving us the full picture, especially globally. The WHO was literally begging for more reporting last month because only 34 countries still send them any data on covid. You can't tell me this is a conspiracy theory, because the absence of information is itself information in this instance. We have to test to see covid. We aren't testing. This is simple subtraction: When you subtract detection from a disease that can spread asymptomatically, all you have is an absence of information. Trump suggested just that in 2020, but when it's done in 2023 and 2024, y'all are cool with it? I'm not sure how that ignorance is comforting to so many "experts." They're out there panicking about noro and flu right now when those diseases wastewater detections are 5 or 6 times lower than Covid by mass. How is Covid not perceived as a threat? Why do they think looking away will save them from the disaster?

[ladyofstarfall206]

Trial By Jury

Summary: Just a typical Monday morning in the Frat Pack household.

Warnings: None

“Don’t play dumb with me!” Ruhn snarled, banging the wooden top of the kitchen table with a tattooed fist as he leaned closer to Declan who was seated at it with crossed arms. Between them rested the atrocious offense, an empty doughnut box with nothing more than crumbs lining the bottom. “Before I went to bed last night, I distinctly remember there being one chocolate doughnut left. Which I had claimed for breakfast this morning, as per my winning the rock paper scissors match between us after the party.”

Declan’s mouth curves into a smirk. “Well I distinctly remember you being so high on Mirthroot that you walked into the bathroom and fell asleep in the tub instead of your bed. Perhaps it is you who is recalling the events of last night incorrectly, your highness.” The red headed fae spoke Ruhn’s political title with a prominent note of sarcasm and a teasing bow of his head.

“How dare y-“

“You have no right to interrogate my client without his attorney present!” Just then, Flynn struts into the room, boldly throwing an empty briefcase on the table beside Dec and taking his seat across from his two roommates. “Don’t say anything Dec. This male’s a viper and will use anything he can against you in court. I’ll take it from here.”

Ruhn gaped. “You literally attended law school for one month before dropping out. You’re hardly the expert here.”

Flynn gave the Crown Prince a sly dimpled smile, the creases beneath his twinkling brown eyes deepening. “It was enough time to ascertain that you cannot convict my client without probable cause. Do you have any evidence to suggest that he ate your doughnut?”

“Alright, alright. I think this is a matter that we need to settle in a court of law in front of a jury. All rise for the honorable judge!” Ithan raised his hand dramatically before taking his seat beside Bryce and Hunt on the worn couch in the living room. They chuckled as you descended the staircase from the room you shared with your mate Ruhn, striding confidently to the center of the room clad in a black robe with a hammer in your hand in an attempt to appear official in your role.

“No need to fill me in, I heard everything I needed to from the stairs.” You pointed your makeshift gavel at Ruhn. “Prosecution, present your case against the defendant.”

With a smirk, Ruhn cleared his throat and approached the bench. “That my bath roab your honor? It suits you well.”

“Objection! Irrelevant commentary from the prosecutor, your honor!” Flynn stood from the table and made his indignance known.

A light dusting of pink bloomed on your cheeks and you tried to keep from laughing. “Proceed with your case, prosecution, or I’ll hold you in contempt.”

“Tough crowd.” Ruhn muttered before continuing. “I have reason to believe that the defendant stole my doughnut, your honor. He was the last of us to go to bed last night, and it was long gone by the time I woke up this morning.”

“Are there any witnesses who can attest to the crime?” You looked around the room and received no volunteers.

“The prosecutor has no proof your honor. Plus he searched the defendant’s backpack without a warrant and began interrogating him without including me.” Flynn informs you smoothly.

You nod, calling a brief recess for the jury to make their verdict. Ithan, Bryce, and Hunt whispered amongst themselves while Flynn and Dec shared a high five.

You tallied the votes and announced, “The defendant Declan Emmet is found not guilty of the crime of stolen property!” You tapped the head of the hammer against the table to solidify your decree.

As the room began filing out, Ruhn pouted. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

You chuckle and kiss his nose as you walk by. “Maybe you’ll remember this next time you decide to shirk dish duty, my mate.”

[whatarewedoingdude]

Alright I rewatched the godforsaken movie for the 21st? time a few days ago, and for some reason I decided to count how many times Alex lips his lips because I noticed he does it A LOT.

So! Like any sane person, I took tally on how many times he did it and in which scenes it occurred, so here is my hopefully accurate counter:

All interrogation scenes with Sally: 7

All jail cell scenes with Sally: 2

Assembly scene where the headmaster calls Alex and Josh out for talking during announcements: 1

Argument between Reverend Donaldson and Alex in religion/history(?) class: 1

In total, we've got at least eleven lip licks from Alex throughout the entire movie. Obviously, I may have missed some, but I counted every one I noticed.

As an expert in the field of severe anxiety, I've observed that Alex licks his lips in tense situations where he feels uncomfortable, put on the spot, or peeved.

Obviously, in every scene with Sally, she's trying to get information out of Alex regarding very recent and VERY distressing events, leading Alex to feel uncomfortable and upset. Also, given that Alex is likely twisting the story to save his skin, he's more than likely nervous. So, that more or less supports the hypothesis that the lip licking is an anxious tic.

As someone with an anxiety disorder, this absolutely tracks. When in high-stress and uncomfortable situations, my number one outlet for that nervous energy is lip licking and fidgeting with my hands. Since Alex is chock full of pride, he's probably less likely to outwardly show that nervousness in the form of anything else but lip licking- it's subtle enough not to attract much attention.

I also observed that Alex never licks his lips in scenes with Nigel. Coincidence? I think not! Since Alex so obviously regards Nigel as a freaky outsider, he likely feels a certain level of control and power over him (i.e. raising his voice at Nigel, scolding him, punching him, pushing him around), and therefore has nothing to be nervous or uncomfortable about. So, there is no anxious energy- or not enough anxious energy- to warrant tics such as lip licking.

On the other hand, in the interrogation scenes, Alex has nearly no power or control over anything besides the story he tells Sally. He cannot easily get himself out of that situation in any other way than telling half-truths, so that anxious energy builds and seeps out in the form of lip licking.

In conclusion, Alex's #1 anxious tic is lip licking, and this post is absolutely unnecessary but I made it anyways because I observe far too much🫶

[raven-dor]

you and i pt.2

In which steve harrington and his best friend discover a secret russian communication

PAIRING: steve harrington x reader

WARNINGS: given last name, banter, yearning, OBLIVIOUS STEVE, fluff

WORD COUNT: 3.5k

pt.3

Y/N sat in the break room of the Scoops Ahoy, reading The Crucible. Or at least trying to. It was hard to lose herself in a book when all she could hear was Steve flirting with every girl within a five-mile radius. She currently wanted to take her book and chuck it at Tiffany Milcovihs's head. Robin sat across from her, preparing for the inevitable tally under the You Suck column.

"You should put twenty." She scoffed, glaring at her book like it had attacked her family. "I can't believe him."

Robin grinned, wiggling her eyebrows. "Jealous?"

"Me? No! I-" She slammed her head against her book. "Shut up, Robin." The younger girl giggled, and Y/N flipped her off in retaliation. "Obviously. You know- I just thought he would finally pull his head out of his ass."

"Well, he didn't. So either you need to be a big girl and tell him, or accept that he's oblivious and move on."

Y/N laughed. "It's not that simple."

"It is that simple."

"What's simple?"

"You." Robin put another tally under You Suck. "You suck at picking up the ladies."

"I do not." He looked at Y/N for reassurance. "Do I?"

She smirked. "The board never lies."

He rolled his eyes. "Thank you, Y/N/N."

"You're welcome, Harrington."

Steve crossed his arms, waiting for Robin to get up. She stared at her coworker. "What?"

"Your turn, shithead. I gave you an extra long break."

"And I, in return, help you gain knowledge with the ladies."

He scoffed, flailing his arms. "You haven't helped- AT ALL!"

Y/N giggled, and he tapped his foot like a mother waiting for her child to confess to their crime. "What's so funny, Wilkins?"

"You're hopeless. You're never gonna get a girl with the King Steve routine, at least not here. We’re not in high school anymore." Y/N huffed, looking up at the clock. "Girls like to be-" Her eyes widened when she noticed the time. "Shit!" She started shoving her things in her tote bag. "Shit, shit, shit!"

"What?"

"I have to pick up Dustin from the airport!" She did finger guns at the two sailors in front of her. "See you two nautical experts tomorrow."

Steve smiled, his laughter seeping into his voice. "What do girls like?"

"Figure it out, Harrington!"

Y/N ran out of the ice cream store and jumped into her car. Dustin was going to kill her.

"This is Gold Leader, returning to base, over. This is Gold Leader returning to base, do you copy? Over." No reply. "I repeat, this is Gold Leader, returning to base. Do you copy? Over. I repeat: This is goddamn Gold Leader-"

"Dusty!"

"What Y/N/N?"

"Relax!" She huffed. "Jesus."

"I'm in range; they should be answering."

"You've been gone for a month, Dustin. Maybe they just forgot." She giggled, turning up her music and rolling down her window. "I mean, I forgot I had a cousin until I saw you in the terminal."

"Shut up, Y/N/N."

The next day, after Dustin shook awake an extremely grumpy Y/N, she pulled slowly back into her parking spot (which was coincidentally next to Steve's). "Alright, shithead, stay by me. This mall is huge, and you could definitely get lost."

Dustin rolled his eyes. "Are you serious?"

"Yes, Dustin. I don't want you getting hurt. We've been in too many near-death experiences for me to lose you in a mall."

He rolled his eyes but walked beside her anyway. "Fine." And he had stayed beside her the whole time until he saw the Scoops Ahoy sign. He ran ahead of her, and Y/N rolled her eyes. Poor Robin. 

“Is he here?” 

Her friend looked so confused. "Is who here?"

Steve burst out of the break room, grinning. He put his hands in the air and started jumping.

"Henderson!"

Dustin giggled. Y/N looked over at Robin and laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. Robin’s jaw dropped, mouthing Oh. My. God.

Steve went around the front desk and jumped again. "Henderson! He's back!"

Dustin smiled. "I'm back! You got the job!"

"I got the job!" Steve started playing a fake trumpet. There wasn't even a fake toy in his hands; he was playing an invisible trumpet. "Hey! Oh!"

Steve initiated their handshake, and Y/N almost dropped to the ground. He was way too happy to see Dustin. It was cute.

"How many children are you friends with?"

Steve rolled her eyes and gestured to Robin. Dustin was still giggling.

"Are you going to tell Steve about camp, Dustin?"

Steve's eyes widened. "What happened at camp?"

"Well, for starters, Dustin has a girl-"

"Shut up, Y/N/N!" He smiled at Steve. "How about some ice cream?"

They sat in a booth, and Dustin began to tell his (what felt like) four-hour story.

"No way. Hotter than Phoebe Cates? No."

Dustin nodded. "Mhmm. Brilliant too. And she doesn't care that my real pearls haven't come in. She says kissing is better without teeth."

Y/N groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Dear God."

Steve nodded. "Wow. That's great. Proud of you, man. That's like- Wow. That's kinda romantic."

"Romantic?" She was extremely confused right now, and she stared at Steve, whispering. "How is that romantic?"

He shrugged and looked back at Dustin.

"So, do you really get to eat as much as you want?"

"Yeah. Yeah. But I got to keep in shape for the ladies." He winked at Y/N, and she rolled her eyes.

She leaned forward, her elbows on the table as she looked at him expectedly. "Ladies, really?"

Steve nodded.

"Oh yeah? How's that working out for you?" Robin giggled from the front counter and went back to helping the customers.

"Just ignore her."

Dustin smiled. "She seems cool."

"She's not. So where are the other knuckleheads?"

Y/N made sure she was behind Dustin and started shaking her head at Steve to stop talking. She did not want to hear him go on another tangent about- "They ditched me yesterday."

"No!"

"My first day back. Can you believe that shit?"

"Whoa, seriously?"

"I swear to God. Mhm. They're gonna regret it, though-"

A throat cleared, and they all turned towards the new presence by their table. "Hi."

Y/N smiled politely. "Hi."

"I'm Derek."

"I'm Y/N."

Steve and Dustin were growing extremely disgusted with whatever was going on in front of them.

"I work over at the Julius store-"

She smiled, laughing while she spoke. "So that's where I've seen you."

He nodded, visibly relaxing. "Exactly..." he took a breath and spoke again. "I was wondering if you'd like to go on a date?"

Dustin choked on his banana split. Steve hit his back, trying to hide the fact that he wanted to punch Derek Pavelski in the face. What a twerp. 

"A date?"

"Yeah. I mean, I know that we don't really know each other. I don’t know if you remember, but we had a class together-"

"AP US History! You were the only one who actually did the work." Steve glared up at the once again visibly nervous boy in front of them. "I read your essay on global expansionism, amazing."

Derek smiled. "Thank you; I aim to please." Dustin looked like he was going to murder the man in front of them. "I didn't mean it—" He looked at Y/N. "I didn't mean it like that."

She smiled sweetly. "I'm sure you didn't."

"So... what do you say?"

"Can I think about it?"

He nodded, clapping his hands. "Of course, yeah. You know where to find me." He turned to Steve and waved half-heartedly. "Harrington."

Steve glared up at him, his "smile" hardly hiding his distaste for their former classmate. "Pavelski."

Derek turned back to Y/N. "I'll uh- I'll see you around."

Y/N waved. "See you."

Robin watched from the counter in amazement. "Holy shit." She ran to the back, grabbed the whiteboard, and put one You Rule slash. "Badass, Y/N/N."

Y/N blushed and turned back to Steve and Dustin, who were both staring at her with their jaws dropped. She rolled her eyes. "What?"

Steve leaned back, his face full of disbelief. "Are you really going to go out with that nerd?"

"He's not a nerd... He was on JV basketball and Varsity Baseball. He just also happens to be extremely smart. Package deal."

Steve crossed his arms. "Really?"

Y/N crossed her arms back, imitating him. "Yeah, really."

He scoffed. "You need to raise your standards."

She stared at him like she was waiting for him to take it back. Or laugh. Something that would make her not want to beat his ass. "Raise my standards? And what should my standards be, Steven?"

His face turned red, and he started tripping over his words. "I- You- He's a loser."

"You have to be kidding, Harrington. You're so blind, I swear to God, I could probably confess that I-"

Dustin's eyes widened, and he interrupted them. "Stop the lover's quarrel, please, and listen." They both leaned back, faces red, and waited for Dustin to continue. "As I was saying, they're going to regret ditching me when they don't get to share my glory."

"Glory? What glory?" Y/N had not heard this part of the story yet.

"So last night, we were trying to get in touch with Suzie..."

"Uh-huh..."

"And uh-" He looked around the room nervously and started murmuring.

"What?"

He murmured again.

"What? Speak up?" Y/N and Steve leaned in. Dustin murmured again, but he still wasn't speaking loud enough.

"I INTERCEPTED A SECRET RUSSIAN COMMUNICATION!"

The other customers in the store turned and stared at the three in the booth, and Y/N sunk into her seat. Steve nodded. "Jeez! Shhh. That's what I thought you said."

"What does that mean?"

"It means we could be American heroes." Steve nodded. "True American heroes."

"Huh."

Y/N hit her head against the table softly. They were such idiots.

Steve wiggled his eyebrows and nudged Dustin. "American heroes."

"Just think, you could have all the ladies you want and more." Steve stared off into the distance.

"More?"

"More."

"I like more."

"And Y/N/N, you could have all the men you want and more."

Steve hit Dustin's arm, but her cousin ignored him. He looked at Y/N, waiting for her response.

"I'm good, Dustin.” She smiled teasingly at Steve. “Besides, I already have Derek.” He rolled his eyes, sticking her tongue out. “I like the glory part better. Sounds much better on a resume than babysitting."

"Yeah, yeah."

Steve squinted his eyes. "What's the catch?"

"No catch. I just need your help."

"With what?"

Dustin opened his backpack and pulled out a red book. "Translation."

Y/N groaned and followed after Dustin and Steve, who ran to the break room. Dustin took an eraser and before she could stop him, started wiping off the data Robin and Y/N had been collecting for weeks.

"Excuse me, Dustin. What do you think you’re doing?"

"We need this for translation."

"Have fun when Robin finds out. That was important data."

Steve scoffed. "Yeah, important."

"It was. We were keeping track of how horrible you are with the ladies, Harrington."

"I'm great with the ladies."

Y/N laughed. "You were great with the ladies. Past tense. Back when you were an asshole. And girls liked that because back then, you didn't think, you just acted. If you really want someone to like you, Steve, why don't you just be yourself? You know, nice, confident, funny." She leaned back in her seat. "Girls love that."

He stared at her. "Would you like that?"

Y/N choked on the air. "What?"

"Would you like that? If a guy was just himself?"

She nodded. "I would. I do. It's much more attractive when a guy doesn't try to fool you with pretenses. That's why I said I would think about it with Derek. He was nervous and sincere, and he didn't try to cover it up with some James Dean-esque persona. It was nice."

Dustin clapped his hands and broke the trance the two adults were in. "Hello? Let's get started."

Dustin kept trying to translate, but Steve quickly grew tired of going nowhere and decided to distract himself with a banana. "Want one?" He held one out to Y/N, but she shook her head. "I'm good. Thanks."

Steve started pacing while Dustin was once again mumbling the Russian words under his breath. With horrible pronunciation, Y/N decided.

"Steve!" Robin yelled back, but the other sailor just ignored her. 

"Play it again."

Dustin started the recording, and Steve took a bit out of his banana. Dustin stopped it before it could repeat. "So what do you guys think?"

"It sounded familiar. That music at the end."

"Why are you listening to the music, Steve? Listen to the Russian! We're translating Russian!"

"I'm trying to listen to the Russian, but there's music-"

"Guys, I know that song-"

Robin burst through the door. "Alright, babysitting time is over. You need to get in there." She saw the board and freaked out, just like Y/N had said. "Hey! My board! That was important data, shitbirds!"

Y/N grinned. "Told you, guys."

"I guarantee you what we're doing is more important than your data."

Robin smirked. "Yeah? And how do you know these Russians are up to no good anyway?"

Dustin turned to Steve and Y/N. "You told her? I can't believe you guys!"

"I swear I didn't! Y/N, you had to-"

"I wasn't told anything. You two-" She pointed at Steve and Dustin. "Are just incredibly loud. You think you have evil Russians plotting against our country on tape, and you're trying to translate but haven't figured out a single word because you haven't figured out that the Russians use an entirely different alphabet. Sound about right?"

Y/N laughed, and Robin took that as a sign to steal the tape, which Steve quickly swiped off the table. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! What do you think you're doing?"

"I wanna hear it."

"Why?"

"Maybe I can help. I'm fluent in four languages, you know."

"Russian?"

"Ou-yay are-yay umb-yay."

Steve laughed weirdly. "Holy shit!"

"That was Pig Latin, idiots."

Steve's face dimmed down. Dustin nodded in defeat. "Oh." Steve smacked Dustin with his banana peel.

"But I can speak Spanish, and French, and Latin."

"And she's been in band forever. Her ears are like little geniuses." Robin bowed slightly. "We could use her help. My knowledge can only go so far." Y/N grinned at Robin. "I need my partner in crime."

Steve huffed. "I thought I was your partner in crime."

"Steve, do you really want to start that argument right now-"

Robin crossed her arms and tried to break up the tension that was quickly building. "Come on! It's your turn to sling ice cream, and my turn to translate. I don't even want credit; I'm just bored."

Y/N nodded. "Get out there, Sailor Boy." He put his hat on with a little too much force. "Go woo the ladies. And remember what I said!"

"Yeah, yeah." He walked through the door, and Y/N turned back to Dustin and Robin. 

"Give it a go."

And so Robin played the clip. Again. And again. And again until they had finally formed one sentence. At least they were getting somewhere, even if it took two hours. The younger girl swung open the window, leaning out with a grin. "We've got our first sentence."

"Oh, seriously?"

"Yeah. The week is long."

"Well, that's thrilling."

Y/N yelled out. "That's progress!"

Steve rolled his eyes, and Robin nodded. "What your girlfriend said, dingus."

Closing came quickly; no one in the mall except for the Scoops Ahoy employees, Y/N, Dustin, and apparently, Derek, who she’d just spotted. Steve pulled the gate down from the ceiling. "Ready?"

"Just one second. I'll catch up to you." She ran over to the Orange Julius, and there was Derek, grinning down at her.

"Hi."

"Hi."

They stared at each other for a bit before she spoke. "I would love to go on a date with you."

His eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Yeah!"

"I'm gonna be honest; I didn't think you'd say yes."

Her eyebrows crinkled. "Why?"

He looked over her shoulder at a glaring Steve. "Harrington over there. You're speech at graduation was..."

Her face turned red. "Yeah. It was. But uh-" She rocked forward on the balls of her feet. "I need to move on. I mean-"

Derek nodded. "I know what you mean. So- Enzo's? Tomorrow, eight o'clock?"

"Sure. I'll see you there." She walked closer to him, and Steve held his breath. "Bye, Derek." Y/N kissed his cheek quickly and turned away, walking back towards the Scoops Ahoy.

"You need to tell her how you feel, Steve."

He turned towards Robin. "She doesn't like me. She likes Derek."

"No, she doesn't." Dustin butted in. 

Robin nodded. "Yeah, dingus. I told her to move on since you didn’t make a move, and she took that advice faster than I thought she would." Y/N got closer, and Robin whispered. "So do something before she's out of your grasp."

He gulped, and Y/N stopped in front of him, her face worried. "You okay, Harrington? You look a little hot."

“What?” 

She pressed her hand to his forehead. “You’re burning up.” 

"I'm fine, Y/N/N." He turned back towards the other two. "The message, it doesn't sound right."

"It's right. Honestly, I think it's great news."

"How is it great news? I mean so much for being American heroes."

"Yeah, I mean, think of all the ladies you just lost. How unfortunate for you."

"Thank you for fulfilling our daily dose of sarcasm, Y/N/N." He turned back to Robin. "It's nonsense."

"It's not nonsense. It's too specific to be nonsense. It's a code."

"What do you mean a code?"

Y/N wiggled her eyebrows. "Like a super-secret spy code."

"That's a total stretch."

Dustin shook his head.

"I don't know, is it?"

Steve scoffed at Robin. "You're buying into this?"

"Listen, just for kicks, let's entertain the possibility that it is a secret Russian transmission. What'd you think they were going to say, Fire the warhead at noon?"

"Exactly."

"And my translation is correct. I know that for sure so... The silver cat feeds. Why would anyone talk like that unless they were trying to mask the true meaning of their message?"

"Exactly."

Y/N giggled. "It's like they're the same person."

Steve smiled down at her. "She's like your Dustin."

Her eyes lit up, and she smacked his arm. "Great connection, loser."

"Thank you, thank you very much."

She laughed, shaking her head. “Never do an Elvis impression again.” 

"And why would anyone want to mask the true meaning of their message unless the message was somehow sensitive?"

"Exactly."

Steve pulled a face at the two little geniuses' backs, and Y/N cackled until he threw a hand over her mouth.

"So I guess that confirms your suspicion."

"Evil Russians."

"I can't believe I'm about to believe with this strange child, but yes. Evil Russians."

"So how do we crack it?"

"I guess we translate the rest and hope that a pattern emerges."

Y/N patted Robin's shoulder. "You should really work for the CIA."

"A pattern, right. Like maybe 'Silver Cat' is a meeting place."

Robin raised her eyebrows. "Or a person."

"Or a weapon."

Y/N looked beside her and noticed that Steve was no longer there. She turned around and saw him standing in the middle of the hall, staring at the little toy pony ride. She quietly walked up beside him and stared.

"Whatcha looking at?"

He jumped. "Jesus!" He put his hand on his heart and, after a few seconds, answered her question. "I know this sounds crazy, but this horse, doesn't it have a theme song?"

Her eyes widened. "The song! You're a genius, Harrington!" She started rummaging through her pockets and handed him a quarter.

"Thanks."

Robin and Dustin yelled, "Hey, Steve! Are you sure you're tall enough for that ride?"

He rolled his eyes. "Shut up and listen." He put her quarter in, and the pony came to life.

"You need help getting up, little Stevie?"

Y/N put her finger on her lips. "Quiet."

The two adults stared at the pony, and Robin leaned over to Dustin. "They finally lost it."

Dustin had the same sense of realization in his eyes. "Shh, Robin."

"Oh my god, you too?"

He pulled out the recording and started playing it. "The music."

Robin shrugged. "Maybe they have horses like this in Russia."

Steve scoffed. "The Indiana Flyer? I don't think so." He stared up at the group, his expression grave. "This code, it didn't come from Russia... It came from here."

taglist: @kendallroydefender @beebeechaos 

[notwiselybuttoowell]

How did the crab get out of prison? And why did the crab get bad grades?

The answers to these conundrums and other clawsome jokes were among the competitors for the inaugural World’s Funniest Crab Joke competition, held by the Crab Museum in Margate to celebrate International Crab Day.

The winning gag, submitted by an anonymous joker, was: “Why did the crab cross the road? It didn’t. It used the sidewalk.”

An expert panel of judges, including the comedians Harry Hill, Rose Matafeo, Sally Phillips and Phil Wang, as well as children from Ramsgate Arts primary school, scored their favourite jokes before the totals were tallied and a winner crowned.

The only rules of the contest were that the jokes should be kept PG, and that lobsters could be mentioned in the setup of the joke, but not the “pinchline”.

Organisers said that, although most of the 700 submissions did abide by the rules, several jokes “were disqualified for scientific inaccuracy, and rather a lot for lewdness”.

In an unexpected sideways move, the crabs themselves picked the winner from the four jokes ranked highest by the judges, with the help of some tinned fish in bait bags and rolled-up pieces of paper with the jokes written on them.

The twist on the classic road-crossing formula proved triumphant, and was followed in second by another variation on a classic: “Man walks into a restaurant with a crab under his arm and says, ‘Do you make crab cakes?’ Manager answers, ‘Yes, we do.’ ‘Good,’ says the man, ‘because it’s his birthday.’”

Third place was awarded jointly to: “Why didn’t the crab help the chicken cross the road? Because it was eaten by a pelican crossing,” and: “What format do you have to save photos of crab soup on to? Floppy bisque.”

A Crab Museum spokesperson said the organisers hoped the contest might inspire people into environmental activism: “The quality and quantity of jokes this year has been astounding. We’ve been pinching ourselves since the submissions closed! That said, laughing at jokes, much like learning about crabs, can be a powerful tool to help us reassess our relationship with our environment. You’d be surprised how quickly you can go from chuckling at crab gags to letting down SUV tires. Whilst we may not have made this clear to our judges, it is in this spirit that the World’s Funniest Crab Joke competition has been organised.”

The museum, which opened in 2021 and claims to be “Europe’s first and only museum dedicated to the decapod”, aims to raise awareness of the often unheralded but incredibly diverse world of crabs.