Ahah! This is, in fact, not a word at all! You see, lilmoni with 21 “i”s (counting the “i” in “lil”), I realized that you had gotten a total of two (2) asks relating to fried squid in some manner. Therefore, an ask that broached on the same territory but devolving into something more nonsensical would be the perfect fit; a good escalation to the situation. I now realize it’s a perfect example of the “rule of threes”, so to say.
So thus, I arranged to make a word of a nonsensical nature, adding the suffix “-acious” to the nonsense word “squib”, which sounds similar to “squid”, therefore making it look like an adjective. I then decided to color the word purple when sending in the ask for some extra flair, all hoping to culminate in a confused answer by you leading to an unhelpful reblog consisting solely of “Squibacious. 👍” in big purple letters.
However! There were a few things I did not account for. Holes in my otherwise masterful (or at least above-subpar) plan.
The most pertinent of which being, you coming to the assumption that this is another ask relating to fried squid, and then not… questioning that, extrapolation, at all. This would mean that me going “Squibacious. 👍” in big purple letters would result in, most likely, affirming the false belief that this is meant to be related to fried squid in a manner that belies outside of simple character combination. Q.E.D: It would come off as a form of misinformation, perhaps even disinformation! And lying, is wrong.
Second of all! Admittedly I found this out before sending the ask, rather than just right now. But it turns out, “squib”, is actually, a word. It means “a short humorous or satiric writing or speech”, according to Merriam-Webster. I suppose if you make up enough words, with enough linguistic knowledge, you’ll accidentally make up a word 5hat already exists. Funny; the word “squibacious” itself might actually qualify as a squib, if you consider “writing” to mean “literally me creating a single nonsense word”. So probably not. But it could! How squibacious. (That time was me deliberately adding the suffix -acious to the actual word “squib”, as I like adding suffixes to nouns to turn them into adjectives even when grammatically incorrect. You can tell I mean it different because it wasn’t purple that time.)
The word also relates to literature, so I elected to keep it, since, uh, You Know, you’re the president of the Literature Club. Or you at least were. I don’t know what your occupation is now. Bronze-medal President of the Fried Squid Club, perhaps?
Okay so that’s actually only two holes. Which may not seem like that much. But! If your tire, to a car, or perhaps even a unicycle, had two holes in them, with one of them very very large, you would not be able to drive them anywhere and they would not be very good for their purpose of travel. As such, the tire of my plan has been punctured, slowly losing air until the metaphorical unicycle of its execution flops over like a mound of poorly-made gelatin in the wind.
Maybe you could consider, you mentioning Natsuki liking it, as a hole in my plan as well? Since it ends the ask answer with an exclamatory statement rather than an interrogative one. This means that my plan of my unhelpful reblog consisting solely of “Squibacious. 👍” in big purple letters, runs the risk of seeming as though I am affirming THAT part of the ask answer; thus straying so far from my original goal that a viewer who happens to stumble upon this theorized reblog would be all but guaranteed to think the following: “Ah, squibacious? This must be a word of dubious reality that relates to fried squid. How quaint and quirky of this Monkeyman individual. And look! He even supported lilmon(i * 20)’s admission that Natsuki likes to eat fried squid! What wholesome and not-at-all ironic fun between lilmon(i * 20) and monkeyman(20 * 2)! Chuckle chuckle laughter guffaw!” There is an infinitesimal chance they would not think those exact thoughts, in that exact order.
In conclusion, it seems that in the game of squid, I hath maken a fool out of myself. A laughingstock, out of my plausible-yet-probably-infeasible reputation. It seems that this season, summer, the second season of the year, I have failed Squid Game. I have failed Squid Game Season 2. This is the part where I die to stop the cycle and save a baby from death who is considered a contestant because the contestant who gave birth to the baby died or something.