One fateful evening, as Bongino and Patel puffed on their pipes by the hearth of Bag End, a shadowy figure appeared at their door. It was their trusty ranger ally, Nick Fuentes, cloaked in weathered gray, his eyes gleaming with the fire of unyielding truth. “The Ring has been found,” he whispered, his voice cutting through the night like a blade. “It calls to the wicked, promising dominion over all. We must destroy it in the flames whence it came—Mount Doom itself—or the blackmail ring will ensnare kings and beggars alike, turning our world into a prison of vice and invasion.”
Bongino nodded gravely, his hobbit-sized fists clenched. “We’ve seen the files’ shadows in our FBI scrolls. Peddlers of flesh, lords of deceit, controlling armies of orcs who flood our borders like a black tide.” Patel agreed, packing his satchel with lembas bread laced with classified intel. “To Mordor we go, then. But we’ll need allies stout and true.”

>>513944211
Is that a picture of Ari Shaffir? I heard him say at a bar once that he doesn’t trust people who don’t try to fuck.

New Orleans sets the stage for an epic, fictional showdown. The air is thick with the scent of jambalaya and jazz, neon lights flickering over the cobblestone streets as a crowd gathers, drawn by the spectacle unfolding before them.
Theo Von, channeling the Cajun flair of Gambit from the X-Men (not DC, but let’s roll with the creative mix-up), struts into the fray. Dressed in a sleek trench coat adorned with a playing card motif, his eyes glow with a mischievous energy. In his hands, he charges a deck of cards with kinetic energy, each one crackling with purple sparks as he twirls them like a street magician. His Louisiana drawl cuts through the noise: “Man, Ben, I’m bout to shuffle you like a deck of niggers.”

It’s 5:51 PM on Tuesday, August 19, 2025, and the vibrant chaos of Bourbon Street in New Orleans sets the stage for an epic, fictional showdown. The air is thick with the scent of jambalaya and jazz, neon lights flickering over the cobblestone streets as a crowd gathers, drawn by the spectacle unfolding before them.
Theo Von, channeling the Cajun flair of Gambit from the X-Men (not DC, but let’s roll with the creative mix-up), struts into the fray. Dressed in a sleek trench coat adorned with a playing card motif, his eyes glow with a mischievous energy. In his hands, he charges a deck of cards with kinetic energy, each one crackling with purple sparks as he twirls them like a street magician. His Louisiana drawl cuts through the noise: “Man, Ben, I’m bout to shuffle you like a deck at a crawfish boil—let’s see them facts fly!”

>>513400113
No

Gambit, who rarely misses out on a chance to take the side of the mulleted everyman struggles to decide which side of the growing rift in the X team to take. Team Shield with Manhattan or Team Wheelchair with Professor X? Better wait it out…he decided. That fucking pervert Manhattan is probably watching me this very instant he thought.