#potato thoughts

[zia-the-weirdo]

Btw every time i say Good Morning it’s always a Surburbia Overture ref, never forget this

[alilpudgypotato]

Does ice cream and soda really bloat one up? Is there like a combo that causes the most bloating?? How does it work? Do you mix them into a float before drinking or drink and eat separately?

[potatooftrashtaste]

Was looking for a science pun shirt for a Grace cosplay and found this gem instead lmao

[arlin-potato2]

I’ve graduated!! 🥳

[vikramsharma007]

[muddthebugg]

"Huh, I wonder why there's been so many screenshots from the Creepy Creatures special going around. Ah well, guess people just really enjoy the episode!"

[ "This is Halloween" plays ominously in the background ]

nah its genuinely funny how I only just realized.... it's cuz it's almost Halloween .......

[potato-pencil]

International Superspy: A Backyardigans fic

The cold metal of the pistol pressed against his back, digging deeper and sending an involuntary shiver down his spine. Adrenaline surged through his veins as the familiar routine began, but he didn’t budge. He had committed the script to memory by now: a dark alley, a creeping figure, a crowded pub, and countless whispered secrets and repressed desires. This was London at night—or at least, London for Agent Secret. He swirled his drink, letting his eyes drift over the many faces in the room, each one with a story, yet he was only interested in the figure behind him. He sipped his drink one last time before turning his gaze to the mirrored wall in front of him, revealing the owner of the pistol he was being forcefully acquainted with. A coy smile formed on his face—tonight, he wasn’t on a regular mission; tonight, he was called to action.

“Agent Secret,” the figure whispered, their breath fanning his ear as they moved to sit on the empty stool, the pistol never leaving its spot on his back.

“Lady Pink,” he greeted solemnly, acknowledging the obnoxiously pink hood that encompassed the woman now beside him, accompanied by her usual scent of roses. “We keep meeting under the most unfortunate circumstances, wouldn’t you agree?”

“You have only yourself to blame for that, agent,” she teased, her voice laced with a playful edge as her eyes roamed his body, searching for what he could only assume was the purpose of her appearance—the flash drive he currently held. “You have something that doesn’t belong to you,” she said, her gaze snapping back to his, her intense eyes holding him in place, aside from her gun, of course.

“Always so eager to make accusations. Yet again, patience was never a virtue you possessed.” He set his cup down on the bar with a forceful thud, catching the attention of the distracted bartender. “And here you are, with a gun to an innocent man’s back. What does that say about you exactly?” His eyes abandoned hers, focusing now on the bartender.

“It only shows I’m a woman who knows what she wants,” she retorted, pressing the pistol further into his back, reminding him that her threats were anything but empty. “And who knows how to get results rather efficiently, at that.”

A mocking smile formed on his face. “Efficient?” he questioned sarcastically, allowing himself to look at her only through the mirrored wall in front of him. “I feel the need to remind you of that situation in Cartagena. We’re calling that efficient now? Because I don’t think that’s the word I would use to describe that moment, my lady.” His gaze remained fixed on her, watching as her face twisted in a pained cringe at the dreaded memory before she quickly collected herself.

“Do not make me cause a scene here,” she warned,applying pressure on his back with her pistol reminding him that she held the power, a fake sweet smile plastered on her face. Her tone was sugary yet commanding. To the outside observer, it looked like a couple out on a date, where the man was being a bit of an ass, and his seemingly sweet, doting girlfriend was doing everything to charm him. She had her arm around his back, strategically holding the pistol out of sight, making it look like a hug. Her body was pressed close to his, appearing defenseless—when she was anything but.

“Always one for dramatics,” he sighed as memories of her previous scenes flooded him. “Can we at least drop the pistol? I know Tyrone must be nearby with my head as a target, and we both know his aim is deadly.”

She smiled, pressing her body closer to his and pushing the pistol painfully into his back. “Very well,” she uttered, retracting her weapon into her coat. A red dot briefly appeared on Secret’s forehead, signaling that the danger had not passed. “Will you hand me the drive, or will I have to forcefully retrieve it?”

“A drive?” he questioned in feigned ignorance. “You’re going to have to give me a bit more to go off of here, my lady.”

Lady Pink leaned in further, her voice a low murmur that barely reached his ear. “This drive holds something that could turn the tables in ways you can’t even imagine, Agent. It’s not just about money or power—it’s about control. You wouldn’t want to be on the wrong side of this, trust me.” Her words conveyed not just her seriousness but also an invitation that Agent Secret had refused before.

He turned to face her, forcing her to peel herself away and create distance between them. His eyes scanned hers for any hint of something genuine, but they found nothing but seriousness. “My dear lady, I’m sorry,” he said, fixing a strand of hair that had fallen out of her neatly made braid. His fingers gently grazed her face as he tucked it behind her ear. His eyes already conveyed an apology before his words could. “Trust is something I can’t afford to freely give.” With that, he recoiled his hand, fully abandoning the touch.

Her mouth parted slightly as a hint of pain crossed her eyes. “I—” she began, only to be interrupted by the intrusive ringing of a phone—Agent Secret’s phone.

She stared at him in clear annoyance as he nodded to whatever was being said to him. Her mind swirled with a complex mix of emotions: rejection, urgency, and the high stakes involved. Agent Secret didn’t seem to appreciate how fortunate he was for her to meet him in person, even if it was under the threat of certain death. Normally, she would send Tyrone for such tasks, yet here she was, and he was on a phone call.

She sighed in frustration before her own phone rang. She reached for it from her coat, only for the bartender to accidentally spill an alcoholic drink on her. She stood up in a frenzy, dripping with the drink as she received a steady stream of apologies mixed with the aggravating sound of her ringtone. Her coat was ruined, her phone was ringing, and the bartender’s futile attempt to dab her coat with cheap napkins only heightened her irritation.

With a sigh, she glanced at the stool behind her, a snarky comment ready to combat whatever words Secret would throw at her. But then, a surge of panic rushed through her as she realized Agent Secret had disappeared. Her eyes darted to the glass wall, now covered with curtains, preventing Tyrone from aiming. She quickly scanned the bar, finding that he had indeed vanished.

“Sorry, miss, I—” the bartender began, but she forcefully shoved him away, grabbing her phone from inside her coat, only for it to fall silent. The sound of a shutting door could be heard above the murmurs of the crowd.

She glanced back at the now-empty spot and found a note pinned beneath his glass. “Of course he would,” she mumbled to herself, barely above a whisper. The bartender was left ignored on his knees, picking up the shattered glass from the ground, as she grabbed the note from the counter, her distraction shattered by the reality that Agent Secret had slipped from her grasp with the drive.

She skillfully opened the folded napkin, her eyes immediately raking over the scribbled words just for an involuntary laugh to escape her. Only one sentence was clumsily scribbled on the crumpled napkin:

My dear lady, always expect the unexpected

                               -Secret 💙

[ea-paperbits]

I saw a sign that said "No PDA" and i was confused for a minute why they didn't allow Potato-dextrose Agar on the bus???