#look man i know buggy's probably gonna win this but i just figured it needed to be said

[metamelonisle]

Ok, i'm sure Polka-Dot Man is plenty pathetic in his own right, don't get me wrong, but he's going up against the KING of absolute soppy disappointment here, so strap in and let me tell you a tale about the Star Clown of Cross Guild, Buggy, also known as the most cringefail babygirl jester in all of One Piece. One Piece spoilers for the anime, obviously!

Buggy is a man so utterly pathetic that despite being part of the crew of the literal legendary pirate king Gol D. Roger and one of his adoptive children, 20 years later, he was somehow one of the most unremarkable and weakest pirates in the world fucking around in East Blue while his former crewmate Shanks went on to be one of the four strongest pirates in the world (Four Emperors). Buggy took incredible pride in his ability to swim to find treasure and then he ate a devil fruit (which permanently removes it). By accident. He got sick right before the Roger Pirates were going to the One Piece and missed it and they all decided not to tell him or Shanks. His devil fruit ability isn't even that good. It's just detaching his limbs harmlessly and letting them fly around and this is in a world where some devil fruits can let you destroy islands with earthquakes or turn into a dragon or rip out people's souls.

Every single good thing that happens to this man, happens by complete fucking accident and either as the result of something stupid happening to him or to set something even dumber up. In fact, every time he appears for an arc, something tremendously pathetic and hilarious happens to him, and it bizarrely leads to an increase in social status that he never accounted for and it is GUTBUSTINGLY HILARIOUS. This man could fall UP a flight of stairs and somehow become president and it wouldn't be out of place for him.

When he fought Luffy for the first time, he lost his entire body except for his head, hands, and feet and had to run around like this by himself on a deserted island for weeks:

And even though it led to a friendship, his body and crew back, and a pirate alliance, when he attacked Luffy at Loguetown, not only was he so unremarkable to Luffy that he DIDN'T EVEN REMEMBER HIM DESPITE THEM MEETING LESS THAN A WEEK AGO, he also managed to trap him and almost kill him...

...only to suddenly get fucking STRUCK BY LIGHTNING.

Buggy would then get caught by the marines and somehow escape by blind luck when a gust of wind blew the nets off him, so he opts to chase Luffy into the Grand Line. This would then lead to him first meeting a cool guy named Portgas D. Ace, who turns out to be none other than Luffy's older brother (who he fucking detests), then later getting suckered into giving free labor to a mining company by complete accident because he thought he was mining for treasure, and then when he left, he walked directly into a marine base by accident, and got sent to Super Underwater Pirate Hell Jail (aka Impel Down).

While Buggy was in Impel Down, his punishment was to run around a razor sharp metal jungle (Crimson Hell) because they didn't know he had devil fruit powers because he hates using them, so he was fine until LUFFY (who STILL doesn't remember him) SHOWED UP AND MADE HIM HELP HIM GET TO THE WORST PART OF IMPEL DOWN so they could save Ace from being executed. Buggy only goes along so he can abandon Luffy at an opportune time but that time just never comes and he ends up accompanying Luffy all the way to Marineford. He just goes through Dante's Prison Inferno with an annoyingly determined polymirate, a living candle, a drag queen, and a living sword until they find out Ace isn't even there, and Luffy did all this shit to him for nothing.

THEN all the people accidentally broken out think Buggy saved them so they all force themselves into his crew, and at the Marineford War he steals a camera and broadcasts himself because of his ego which fucks up the entire world for years because the World Government cant lie about what happened at Marineford now, and because word got out that Buggy was in Roger's crew and all these people love him, they give him the title of Warlord (which means he's a government-sponsored privateer) and now Buggy is entangled in a web of lies and bravado because every single person in his crew is now magnitudes stronger than he is and are like head-over-heels loyal to him.

THEN. things start to look up for him as he makes a mercenary company called Buggy's Delivery, and things go great for maybe 2 years before the World Government abruptly shuts down the warlord program and they all decide "hey! let's kill this blue haired bastard!" and Buggy gets overwhelmed until two ex-warlords save him and so to repay them, he makes an ad for their service, Cross Guild, which puts bounties on marines. Except, because his crew loves him so much....

THIS is the ad they produce. Buggy doesn't even get to review it before it's shipped out WORLDWIDE. Buggy isn't even part of this group, he just asked them to make an advertisement for it.

The World Government, thinking Buggy is the leader of the whole thing and has Crocodile (a notorious criminal mastermind) and Mihawk (the World's STRONGEST SWORDSMAN) as his underlings, is so terrifying to them that they immediately declare buggy as one of the FOUR EMPERORS OF THE SEA. THE SAME RANK AS HIS EX-CREWMATE SHANKS. ONE OF THE FOUR MOST POWERFUL PIRATES IN THE WORLD.

Needless to say...

Croc n' Hawk aren't too jazzed about this development.

The absolute funniest thing about this is that Buggy achieved all this by complete and total accident, and is just as weak as he was at the beginning of the series. People used to joke in a tongue-in-cheek manner about how pathetic and silly it would be if he somehow fell-upstairs to EMPEROR, and then it fucking happened.

This man isn't just the king of pathetic, he's the GOD of pathetic.

I'm sorry Krill, but you're simply too outmatched to compete with the Bombastic Clown.

Buggy the Clown (One Piece): "besides being a literal clown, he has one of the greatest pedigrees in the series and yet us a complete cringefail little bastard"

Abner Krill (Suicide Squad): "he is suffering and depressed and he has the saddest eyes and i need to hold him until his ribs crack"

[tlcwrites]

By A Nose

Submission for Writer Wednesday 5/12

Summary: If you're going to talk the talk, you better be able to walk the walk. Or, proof Poe Dameron is a terrible loser.

Word Count: 1528

Tags/Warnings: Poe Dameron x Reader, Modern AU. Implied smut but mostly in passing. Some bad words. Poorly edited because as usual I finished this at like 11 and my kids get up at 5 so I need to go to sleep.

Author’s Note: THREE FICS IN A WEEK WHO AM I?

Okay, so I cannot be the only one who saw the photo for this week's Writer Wednesday (thank you once more for hosting, @autumnleaves1991-blog!) and went the direction I did. If I am the only one, well, just further proof my brain is certifiable. Make sure you comment on when you figure out where this fic takes place.

There will also be an accompanying headcanon coming for this probably tomorrow, because there was SO much material I wanted to use but couldn't make fit. Thank you @paper-n-ashes for brainstorming with me and being the best hype-woman ever.

“AAAAHHHHH.”

“WE’RE GONNA DIE.”

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!”

“FINN!!” You smack him. “There are small children here!”

But he’s too busy screaming to pay attention.

On the other side of you, Kaydel looks decidedly green. She lets out a pained moan as your vehicle makes a particularly hard turn. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this…”

You pat her knee as you fly through a kitchy town. “Hang in there, honey. It’s almost over.”

The village elder’s well wishes still ringing in your ears, you pull up next to another idling transport. From the driver’s seat, your boyfriend winks at you.

“You’re going down, Dameron!” you holler at him.

He makes the universal ‘I’m watching you’ gesture. “Eat my dust, losers!”

Finn yells back something that has you smacking him again, shooting an apologetic glance to the second row of Poe’s transport, where Snap and Karé are sitting with their daughter Nora. Snap’s hands fly to cover Nora’s ears while Karé laughs heartily.

Next to Poe, Rey holds her thumb and forefinger up to her forehead in an ‘L’ shape. “Second place is the first to lose!”

Before any more trash talking can occur, you see a flash of red out of the corner of your eye and then both vehicles take off, bursting out of the dark into blinding sunlight.

You both fly over the rusty terrain, neck and neck as you navigate under rocky overpasses and around hairpin turns. From the second row of your car, you can hear Maz lobbing profanities at Chewie in the other ride. He’s yelling back in his native tongue (which you still only understand half of). Beside Maz, Leia and Han are both laughing like kids.

A shriek of joy erupts from you as you fly over a series of hills, the momentary weightlessness thrilling. Finn has both hands in the air, while Kaydel grips the safety handle with white knuckles.

Finally, you come out of a turn to see a sharp drop. You look to Poe, who grins back at you, his vehicle slightly ahead of yours. Damnit, you HATE losing to him. He’s the worst winner.

At the last moment, your ride leaps ahead, crossing under the checkered banner by a nose. The passengers of your car cheer and high-five in victory, while Poe’s passengers groan in good-natured defeat.

As you roll through the red-lit cavern, you laugh as you catch sight of Poe’s face. He’s a terrible winner, but he’s an even worse loser. Even if his loss comes at the hands of an algorithm.

Anthropomorphic cars wave you off as both vehicles enter the unloading zone. On the other side of the platform, Chewie is lifting Rey out of the front seat as she pretends to collapse in agonized failure, her laughter completely destroying the illusion. You accept Finn’s hand as he helps you up, both of you turning to support Kaydel as she crawls out of the car.

A ride attendant watches her warily. “Does she need assistance?” he asks Han.

Han waves him off, wrapping an arm around his wife’s shoulders as Maz and Chewie beeline for the ride photos. “She’ll be fine. No protein spills here.” At the cast member’s astonished look, the charming rogue gives his trademark grin. “Ain’t my first rodeo, kid.” As he and Leia stroll past you towards the exit, he catches your eye and winks. “That, and they haven’t changed the lingo since the 70’s.”

Laughing, you rub Kaydel’s back as Rey swaps places with Finn and helps bracket your green-tinged friend. “Let’s get you some water, yeah?”

Kaydel manages a slight nod, and the three of you make your way towards the exit.

Behind you, you can hear Poe and Finn bickering, as they’re wont to do.

“It’s a ride, dude,” Finn is saying, the exasperation clear in his tone.

“It’s physics, dude,” Poe shoots back. “There’s NO way the car on the outside of the turn would be able to finish first.”

Worst. Loser. Ever.

Your rag-tag alliance eventually makes it out of the exit tunnel. Ben’s waiting across the walkway, those ridiculously long arms crossed over his chest as he leans against the guard rail and steadily ignores whatever Armitage is ranting about.

On the bench next to them, Rose perks up, a smirk crossing her pretty face as she sees Poe’s expression. “Well, I don’t need to ask who won.”

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” the most-competitive-pilot-in-the-galaxy grumbles back, adjusting his backpack. You help Kaydel to a bench, where she quickly curls up.

Rey rolls her eyes as she forces her way into the circle of Ben’s arms. “It’s not like any of us could have actually controlled the outcome, you noodle.”

“Not without some kind of magic,” Ben intones dryly, resting his chin on his girlfriend’s head.

“How cool would that be, though?” Rey’s getting her Down-The-Wormhole-We-Go eyes. You and Rose exchange a Look™️ as she starts gesturing wildly with her hands. “Like, imagine if you could just look at something like rocks and, like, make them fly. Or make someone do whatever you wanted them to do. OH!” She looks up at Ben with a slightly manic expression. “Lightning bolts from your fingers!!”

Well-used to these kinds of rambles, Ben gently captures her hands and wraps her into a hug that doubles as a straight jacket. “No more SyFy channel before bed.”

Rose slides her arms around her husband as Finn joins her on the bench. “Did you behave?”

Nora, in all her 6-year-old innocence, giggles. “Mr Finn said a whole lot of swear-jar words.” She casts a critical eye on the young man. “You probably said enough you could buy an Elsa doll.” The ‘for me’ is unsaid, but implied.

Karé rapidly turns her laugh into a cough.

Finn glances down at his wife as Rose smacks him upside the head. “Hey! That tractor thing is terrifying. And Maz said WAY more than I did!”

“Age before beauty, Finnigan,” Maz says haughtily, waving off Finn’s ‘m'name’s not Finnigan, damn it’.

Giggling, you tune out the ridiculousness that is your found family and turn your attention to your still-sulking boy toy. “You know,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his waist, “you make that face for long enough and it’ll stick that way.”

He huffs. “This is just how my face looks.”

“Uh huh.” Considering yourself quite the expert in his face, having spent countless hours studying every crease and line until you could have drawn him blindfolded, you call bullshit, but say nothing further.

“It is,” he insists.

“Okay,” you agree.

The King of Sarcasm narrows his eyes. “You’re doing that thing.”

You widen your eyes innocently. “What thing?”

“That thing where it sounds like you’re agreeing with me but you’re really telling me I’m a dumbass.”

“What?!” You bring your hand to your chest. “Moi?! I would never.”

He huffs again, but you can see the hint of a smirk starting to break though.

“C’mon, First Runner Up,” you tease. “No sulking in Disneyland. Let me buy you a drink at Trader Sam’s, and then we can sneak off to the Haunted Mansion and make out like teenagers in our Doom Buggy.”

He tilts his head, considering it.

“Or-“ You brush an inky curl off his forehead and stand on your toes until your lips are just about caressing his ear and whisper, “-we could get back in line right now and go again.”

Even before you’ve finished speaking, Poe’s grabbing your hand and hauling you back towards the entrance, tossing a “See you jerks later!” as he pulls you under the Radiator Springs Racers sign. Their laughter echos behind you as he leads the way through the mostly empty line (thank goodness for parade lulls).

As you wait in the queue, only a few dozen people stand between Poe and his (re)shot at victory. You see that competitive gleam in his eyes start to come alive again.

“Hey.” You tug on his tee shirt until he looks at you. “If our car doesn’t win, tonight I’ll do That Thing you love.”

“Babe.” The look he gives you is one of pure torture. “You are killing me here.” He really loves to win. But he really, really loves That Thing. “What about when we come in first?”

You shrug demurely. “Then you wear Those Pants™️ tomorrow.”

Hm. Poe’s always been quick to calculate his odds, and this is quickly turning into a win/win situation. If you lose, he gets That Thing. But Those Pants™️ turn you about feral, and when you’re in that kind of mood- let’s just say Poe still has the scars on his shoulders to prove it.

“Are those terms acceptable, Flight Commander Dameron?” You smile sweetly up at him.

His licentious grin says it all. “Hell yeah.”

For the record, your car does lose a second time. And the next morning, Poe hardly has Those Pants over his ass when you’re ripping them back down his legs and shoving him backwards onto the bed.

Oh, yeah, he thinks to himself. This is better than any dumb kid’s ride.

…doesn’t mean he’s not going to ride it as many times as it takes to win.

A/N: I almost titled this “Tell me you have children without saying you have children”. I am so fucking sick of ‘Lining McQueen’. Yay 4-year-olds.

Thank you for reading; likes and reblogs feed my soul.

[firebuug]

this sounds funny to think about so 40 for the ask meme . also 11 and 20

hII thanks for the ask i wrote you a dissertation below the cut im so sorry .

40. if all your ocs were to get into a giant, mcu style fight, who would win?

GOOD LORD ok uhm. ALL OF THEM????? i mean with ego armor it can be arguable that griffin would decimate but. but. ignoring that. out of my lobcorp guys i think griffin or narae would win because all of them have emotional bond holding themselves back from going full power against each other but griffin and narae are insane and would go full throttle. in the end it is beef powerhouse vs crazyass with insane weapon and i think thered be a big dust cloud and theyd both be on the ground dead. out of my salem guys i think skuggy is winning both out of strength + skill and out of will to be able to attack and kill every single one of them with no regret except maybe gene. out of them all i think skuggy's raw pent up rage is enough to break through the ego armor defenses and he would make work out of narae but ultimately griffin's unpredictability would trip him up and she'd squash him with her giant mace.

and salamander walks in with a smoothie, totally oblivious, sees griffin charging at them and beams her with a shatter spell and is declared victor

11. what’s one canon character all of you ocs LOVE? one they all HATE?

UHHHHHHHHHHH ok this is a strange question so im gonna do it towards the lobcorp characters lol sorry if this means nothing to u

all my lobcorp guys at least appreciate hod's efforts. i dont think all of them are equally hateful towards one dude but i guess fuck the Head lol.

julian doesnt feel a lot towards the layer sephirot considering theyre his bosses but he does get the same joy out of pestering yesod as he does eva except its a risky game to play considering he is his direct boss of the info team and can get him demoted instantly. he vibes with hod the most if anyone and everyone else either gives him the creeps or is just a weird boss he doesn't wanna talk to

eva really only just regards them as higher ups and doesnt try to form personal connections or interact with them outside of work duties but he respects most of them except for netzach and chesed because hes homophobic for their lack of work ethic and almost tiphereth because like. these are children? why are they in charge of us. if anyone he'd have tea with gebura and make 0 eye contact nor conversation

i guess the rest of them also don't really interact or try to get along w the sephirot either bc theyre just bosses to them, griffin woud probably vibe with chesed and hod and leesihan with malkuth (in an "i can fix her" way slightly LOL) and hod, if anything she looks at them and goes "man these bitches need therapy". narae tries so hard to suck up to his bosses but they are like. man. can you not. he is in the netzach hater club and wants gebura or binah or malkuth to notice his work soooooooo bad

20. which oc gets crushes the easiest?

griffin and buggy fr fr. someone will be kind to griffin adn shes like *blushes* what if w. w. what if w. we kissed. and buggy is the same way. theyre the same except griffin is much more open about her crushes with her friends and can laugh at herself about it while buggy is cramming it deep inside and going "STOP STOP STOP STOP WE CANT DO THIS AGAIN WE CANT !!!!!! STOP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

griffin has crushes of the week and will constantly be like hey guyyysss i have a crush wanna hearrr and they all sigh and go alright. who is it this time. her most steady crush to date has been on valcez from central command ever since she saved her from snow queen. her friends keep trying to tell her that no, carrying you bridal style after a rescue and keeping an eye on you and checking up with each other and smiling and winking at each other across the facility and going on lunch dates together isnt very straight of either of you, but we'll let you figure this one out

neither of them know . maybe valcez does. griffin lives on totally oblivious still asking "okay but does she LIKE me. like. LIKE me. like..."

[shadowofthelamp]

Needle and Thread

Oh yeah, I didn’t post this here. So, for my LGBT lit summer class one of the options for our project was a short story, so I wrote a human au Tulix thing. The teacher said she liked the ‘creative names’, pffft.)

Wordcount: 4000

Warnings: Mentions of dead animals/dissection

It started with a dead squirrel, a swiss army knife, and a bag of mints.

Tulip Bennett had only just begun going to East Side Middle School since her old foster home had belonged to the district across town. When she was adopted, she got a new house and a new dad, but also a new school, new people to deal with- and folded under that, new school weirdos.

“Look, I don’t know if anyone’s told you yet.” It had been conferred on her in harsh whispers- the harshest that could come from a fellow sixth-grader, one named Samantha in hot pink and pigtails. “Stay away from Nebula, the girl with the overalls.”

“Nebula? That’s a cool name.”

“Trust me, the girl it comes with isn’t. Her family is weird- the mom always walks around in a lab coat that’s got something red on the bottom half, and the dad killed somebody once!”

“Killed somebody?”

“That’s what Dave says!” And her tone left no argument- what Dave said must be law, to the twelve-year-olds that had been dwelling in these halls years before she had. “Just keep away if you don’t wanna get hurt.” 

Tulip had nodded and gone about the next week or so getting only glances of the girl at lunch where she usually had her thick glasses buried in a thick book. From a distance, she just kind of seemed… like a nerd. Which wasn’t intimidating. She kind of wore black a lot, sure, but that wasn’t much. Tulip didn’t see why everyone seemed so scared of her. If there was one thing she was good at, though, it was floating around to plug herself into different groups. Her pastel dress, round shape, fluffy red hair, and quiet demeanor were camouflage, allowing her to slip in and ask questions in a soft way that usually got answered.

“Why don’t people like her?” 

“She brought a bunch of live beetles into class last year. One got on my arm and she started yelling at me when I pushed it off. Like it mattered if I squashed a bug.”

“Have you seen those gloves she wears? They’ve got blood on them!”

“Look, she’s tearing something open right now!” At that, Tulip turned, squinting. Sure enough, there was a blueish huddle on the corner of the playground. Her hair was bundled up in a bun that resembled a haystack atop her head. 

She kind of looked like Alex had at the house before last, the boy who used to eat worms, and he was actually nice when she got to know him, so Tulip brushed her skirt and made a decision. 

“I’m going to talk to her.”

“Didn’t you hear me?”

“Mhm, but I’m gonna say hi. If she’s mean, I’ll leave.” It seemed like a fine plan to her, even as the other girls called out in protest. 

“She’s just going to stab you!”

“You don’t know what you’re doing!”

Tulip tuned them all out, crossing the blacktop like it was an ancient battleground from the games Eliza had played at the table in the Grant house. Tulip had liked the little blue fairy figure and took a moment to pretend now, borrowing her bravery. After all, she’d been at the school a week already and had managed only to float around on the outskirts of tightly-knit friend groups, a lone tumbleweed in this middle-school desert. If she was a floater, Nebula was in another galaxy, and that just wouldn’t do. If she was mean, then Tulip could always just leave her be. She didn’t like judging books by their covers, especially when those covers had gooey-sweet chocolatey insides the way some of her foster siblings had.

Besides, she was skinny enough to look like she’d snap like a twig, so she couldn’t be that bad compared to Tulip’s few self-defense classes at the mall. She’d already dug her small ziplock baggies of mints out by the time she reached Nebula and put on a winning smile. “Hi there.”

“Huh?” Nebula turned, eyes huge and buggy under her glasses with a color that kind of looked like the glow-in-the-dark star stickers Tulip’s dad had put up on her ceiling. The glasses themselves were… what were they called, cat eyes? They kind of gave her the look of an inquisitive alien. Now that she was up this close, Tulip could see a little piece of purple plastic settled inside her left ear. She raised an eyebrow. “Who’re you?”

“I’m Tulip. I’m new here.”

Nebula squinted. “Hi, Tulip. I like your name.”

She beamed. “Thank you! Do you like flowers?”

“Uh-huh. I’ve got a big garden back home, and I bury the bodies in it.”

Tulip’s beaming dropped a few watts, and her smile fell for a moment before she forced it wider again. “The… bodies?”

Nebula scooted over, revealing- oh, oh, that was gross. She had a knife in one plastic-gloved hand, the blade splattered with deep red, and the fingers of her other gloved hand were deep in the guts of a gnat-swarmed dead squirrel. “Like these. They’re all over once you know where to look, and it helps the soil grow stuff better.” She smiled, a surprisingly genuine one. “That’s what Papa says, and I’ve seen it works.”

“You… kill squirrels for-“

“Psh, I don’t kill them.” Nebula waved the knife. “I find them. Usually, some other animal killed ‘em.” She pointed at the squirrel’s skull with the point of the knife. “This one? Probably a cat, it has teeth marks in the crushed skull. Last week someone got a rabbit with a BB gun but just left it to die.” She clicked her tongue. “I don’t know why they let them suffer like that.”

“You like dead animals… to feed your plants?” Tulip asked, still not willing to get any closer. 

Nebula nodded. “Uh-huh. I mean, I like knowing how stuff works in general but- you ever seen the Lion King? Circle of life, big loud musical number?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s like that.” She lifted the squirrel up. “The squirrel eats the plants, then the plants eat the squirrel.”

That… made a sort of sense, if she thought about it. “Everybody seems scared of you.”

“Everybody seems like a wuss,” Nebula said with a shrug. “Who needs them?” She grinned again. “I like you, though. You haven’t run away yet.”

“Yet?”

“Most people do. I’m used to it.” 

Tulip took a deep breath and sat down next to her, holding out her bag of mints. “Well, that’s no way to go through life.”

Her smile dropped a little. “Huh?”

“Tell me about your plants.”

“You- want to listen to me?” Her voice cracked slightly, and Tulip could hear something pained behind it, a kicked kitten that had grown claws. She’d heard it before in kids who were about to age out, who were used to being pushed aside. 

“I do.”

Nebula lit up like a supernova and snatched the bag, stripping off her glove to grab a mint. 

__________

It had come easier, after that. Nebula talked fast and thought even faster, with a laugh that tickled Tulip up her spine and back down again. It didn’t sound like bells or a piano or any of the other pretty ways she’d heard laughs described, it was like a needle. Quick, sharp, and liable to puncture passerby but help repair a bad day if she only threaded it first. 

Over the days, she got to talking about her parents. They weren’t crazy, her mom was a butcher and her dad did experiments on animals for medicine. Tulip didn’t care much for that, but it was a far cry from murderers. Tulip’s dad was just an accountant.

“Hey, did I ever tell you what I did to Andrew?” She adjusted her glasses, shoving them up the bridge of her nose. Her eyes were so big behind them, like a galaxy all their own. 

“No, you haven’t.” Tulip sipped at her milk as she watched a beetle crawl up Nebula’s braid. She’d probably let it go come 3:15, but for now, Nebula just let it scurry up and burrow down in her hair like it belonged there. 

“Oh, man, I should have. So, he was making fun of my parents, right? Saying they’re ‘mad scientists’ and ‘I’m a freak’ and ‘where’s your witch hat’ and all that. Not very creative stuff. Well, I’ve got a bunch of beetle shells that I use for art at home, so I dunked one in glow-in-the-dark paint and stuffed it in his locker, with a note that said ‘with hate, from Nebula’.” She snickered. “He still thinks I’m a witch, and that was in third grade.”

“And you didn’t hurt him, right?”

Nebula waved a careless hand. “Pssh, of course not. It’s a lot more effective to creep people out over actually hurting them.”

Tulip chewed on her ham sandwich thoughtfully, hearing the lettuce crunch between her teeth. “Is there a… a reason you want to creep people out?”

“If everyone thinks I’m a freak, more time to do what I want, right?” She picked at her jello, watching it wobble and shake on the tray. “I don’t get a choice in how people see me, so I might as well give them what they want. It’s fun being the weirdo, sometimes.”

Tulip just blinked at that. “But why?”

“Why not?” Nebula countered. “You want to spend your life chasing after people who don’t really care about you?” She lifted her fork, shoving the gelatin into her mouth before shifting it over to her cheek, pointing the tines at Tulip. “I’ve seen how you float around like a ghost. You’re checked out of your own life because you’re so afraid someone won’t like you that you don’t get close enough to anyone that might.” She swallowed the dessert in her cheek, letting it settle as she stared.

“Isn’t it lonely, refusing to ever bend a little?” Tulip countered after a moment’s thought. Nebula gnawed on the inside of her mouth before sighing.

“Agree to disagree, Tutu. Agree to disagree.”

Sixth grade passed in a blur, with Nebula tugging her away during breaks to show her whatever new thing she was invested in that day. She slowly dialed back on showing off the dead animals when Tulip admitted they made her queasy and started talking about her plants, or her insects while they were still alive. She was the only person that Tulip had ever seen let a wasp crawl over the back of her hand without getting stung. 

That summer, they stomped around the bog behind the gas station, peat soaking their ankles as they captured frogs and let them go again after taking pictures. One of the girls from her scout troop invited her to a dance where they might see boys, but it just didn’t sound appealing to Tulip when she could swing Nebula around to creaky old songs from her dad’s record player, with her newly-made dresses spiraling around her knees. In July, Tulip began to sew in earnest- she’d liked piecing together odd arrangements of clothes from the thrift store before, but… 

‘Why are you wearing a Halloween costume?’

‘Spirit week with ‘ugly clothes day’ was last week, Bennett.’

It was easier to just go with simple dresses from the store. 

When Nebula had gotten a look at her closet, she’d immediately dug out the frankensteined skirts and haphazardly sewn tops and laughed. Tulip had been about to slam the door shut when she held one up.

“These are great! Why don’t you ever wear them?”

“Huh?”

She spun on her butt to hold the shirt up, owl-eyes squinting to superimpose it over Tulip’s body. “Not that I don’t like your pastels, they fit you, but these are so much more fun. Did you make them?”

“Well-”

“If they’re from some auntie that you feel like you can’t throw away, that’s fine. I just think they’re neat.”

“I thought you didn’t like girl’s clothes.”

“I don’t. That doesn’t mean I can’t tell what would look good on you.” Her cheeks darkened for a moment, and she shoved the shirt into Tulip’s hands. “Come on, I want to see you in it.”

“Neb…”

“You can’t just hide from me that you’re good at making stuff like this, I’m your best friend. It’s against the law,” Nebula declared.

“Like you care about the ‘law’,” Tulip snorted, but allowed herself to be pushed into the closet. It was easy enough to slide her shirt over her head, but… she fussed with the buttons on the old shirt. This was a bad idea. She tried to do it up, but it didn’t fit- her soft body oozed from the bottom, having gained some weight since she’d created the shirt years ago. She pulled it open again, looking around in the light from the slats. Freckles dotted her belly, and she felt almost like a puppet inhabiting her own milky skin. Her fingers fussed with the handmade shell necklace that rested just above her sternum before she pulled the shirt back off, grabbing the one she’d been wearing before and a vest she’d made with stretchier material. It was still tight, but not annoyingly so, and she knocked for Nebula to open the door.

When she did, the other girl grinned. “See? Told you.” A gloved thumb pointed lazily to the wall-mounted mirror, and Tulip twirled. It hugged her form, but in a way that felt… nice. She must have made it big- maybe for an older sister at the last house.

Nebula jokingly blew a kiss. “You’ll be the belle of the middle-school ball.”

Tulip bumped her with her hip, but her cheeks dotted pink.

After that, often when they met after school, Tulip would sew while Nebula talked, the machine doing the chattering for her on her desk, Sometimes, the needle had to be poised between her fingers when she needed a more delicate touch. Once, Nebula even asked her to show her how to sew- she was making taxidermied animals and ‘wanted to see if I could copy your steady hands’. It ended up a bit of a mess, but Nebula put it up on her bedside table anyway. She liked imperfection and just patted the little squirrel’s head with its corkscrewed eyes. “Besides, it’s more memorable this way.” She offered to make Tulip a mouse to watch her sew if she found any, and Tulip found herself agreeing.

In seventh grade, Tulip had started to drag her to her girl scout meetings, to try and make friends. Some of the other girls still shied away, but if quiet little Bennett liked her and had gone this long without getting a scalpel through her brain, maybe she wasn’t that bad. She lit up when they mentioned they were working on a gardening badge and offered them her assistance. 

They learned that it was best to talk on her right side because her hearing aid on the left didn’t always work, and her needle-sharp laugh melted with the new acquaintances like gallium- just as bright, but not as pointed. In fact, when she dug in the dirt with the other girls, overalls smeared with soil and flowers surrounding her wrists, the hard edges that made her smile a smirk began to melt too.

Eighth grade came and went, and the night before high school, they were doodling on opposite pages of Tulip’s big sketchbook, laid out on the floor. “I just feel like… everything’s changing,” Tulip muttered. 

“It doesn’t have to,” Nebula said, chewing on her pencil with brace-clad teeth. “You’ve still got me, and you’ve still got the scouts that haven’t dropped out, and I’ve got you.”

Tulip rolled over. She was wearing one of her favorite shirts-- Neb had picked out the fabric, with a pattern of stars that rounded her stomach in a way that made her feel big in a good way, like the whole universe lay underneath her skin. “How much?”

“Huh?”

“How much do I have you?”

Nebula turned, bouncing her foot on the ground. “C’mon, I’m not good with the mushy stuff…”

Tulip scooted a little closer. “You’re my best friend, Neb.” She set a hand on Nebula’s cheek, rubbing a smudge of dirt with her thumb, and felt the thin cheekbones heat up underneath her. 

“You’re… you’re mine too,” Nebula muttered. “I feel… comfortable. With you. Cozy. Is that weird? You’re a very cozy person, and you managed to get me other people to talk with me, which is a feat let me tell you-”

Tulip kissed her. She could taste the root-beer flavored chapstick, and the feel slight indent of her braces, and Nebula’s gangly limbs just starting to grow into themselves folded into her lap like a fawn’s.

Nebula pulled back, adjusting her glasses that had tilted askew, but the smile on her face was wide enough to reach the stars before she leaned in again and the world melted around them, nothing but the rich scent of soil and copper that clung to Nebula’s clothes and the sweet strawberry perfume that dusted Tulip, and everything felt like tying off the final stitch on a perfect project. 

[filosofablogger]

How, I ask you, did it get to be Monday so fast?  And … do you realize that January is almost half over?  That means the year is 1/24 over, or 4.1% … gone … poof!  In another month, we will all be one full month older! 

Anyway, it is Monday, so … it must be time to start your week with an all-new Jolly Monday!  Today’s food theme, for no other reason than that Jolly and I deemed it to be so, is … blue.  Take heart, though, we didn’t dye the coffee & tea blue!  So, grab a blue snack and let Jolly and I put some smiles on those faces, ‘k?

And, two special treats … a blue sprinkled donut for Benjamin, and a promised Black Forest Gateau for David!

           Chicken?  Or spinach?

I’ve written a few times about Popeye’s Chicken restaurant … they seem to be in the news a lot these days!  Well, the latest … have you ever seen that game show called “Family Feud”?  I saw it once or twice way back in the day, probably the 1980s or so, and thought it was dumb just like all the game shows, so I never watched it again.  But, they pair up two families, and each are asked trivia-type questions, the family that collectively scores the most points by getting the questions right, wins.

So, earlier this month, a woman named Eve Dubois and her family were competing against the Tomlin family, and the score was tied … it was the final question.  Whoever answered this one correctly first would take home $10,000!  The question was …

What is Popeye’s favourite food?

Now, of course the question meant Popeye the Sailor Man, who we all know eats spinach by the canful, but Ms. Dubois yelled out excitedly … CHICKEN!  So sure of her answer, she began doing a victory dance … until her opponent correctly answered, Spinach!

So, ‘bye-bye’ Dubois family, no prize for you.  Until … the video clip went viral on social media and came to the attention of somebody in the upper echelons of Popeye’s Chicken.  I’m sure they figured it would be a great publicity stunt, and cost them relatively little, so they offered the Dubois family a little consolation prize …

Ummm … $10,000 worth of fried chicken?  🤢  A heart attack looking for a place to happen!

Technology run amok?

Just because you can isn’t always a good reason to do something.  Now, I admit that most technology has a use, serves a purpose … I’m definitely not one of these people who wants to go back to the days of horse & buggy, no electricity, no indoor plumbing, etc.  I’m even grateful for computers and cell phones, though I dislike the venues the technology has opened for scammers & hackers.  But, I am not a fan of drones.  Unmanned flying machines that can … and often do … kill unsuspecting, innocent people with a blink of an eye.  But … are you ready to ride in an unmanned flying taxi?According to United Press International …

A flying taxi with no pilot made its first U.S. test flight in North Carolina with an audience of about 100 people, including several state officials.

Gov. Roy Cooper, state lawmakers and North Carolina Department of Transportation officials were among the more than 100 spectators at Tuesday’s demonstration of the EHang 216 autonomous aerial vehicle.

The two-seat drone is designed for use in cargo delivery and human transportation.

Seriously?  They think people are gonna ride up in the air in something with no bloomin’ pilot?  Not me!  I don’t even like the idea of them flying over wherever I might be!  You know, and I know that sooner or later, somebody will make a mistake and … kerthud.  Sigh.  Why can’t they just work on developing things like a cure for AIDS, or a way to help homeless people grow food in their refrigerator, or socks that never wear out, or light bulbs that never burn out, or headlights on cars that don’t blind the other drivers … something useful!

A sporting wedding …

Quick question … where did you get married?  No, I don’t mean the town or city, but was it a church, Justice of the Peace, family home …?  I got married by a Justice of the Peace … we were both on our lunch hour from our respective jobs, met at the courthouse, quick got married more or less in dual languages, then we each went back to work.  All very romantic, don’t ya know.  Neither of our sets of parents would agree to attend our wedding, mine because they didn’t approve of him, and his because they didn’t approve of him, either.  Yes, seriously!  More than a few times during our marriage his mom would say to me, “Honey, I don’t know how you put up with him.” So, anyway (I get easily sidetracked these days) …

Last week, Lonnie and Pam Harris of Kodak, Tennessee tied the knot … at Bass Pro Shops, a sporting goods store!  Turns out that Pam works at the local Bass Pro Shops and wanted her co-workers to be able to attend her wedding.  Says Lonnie …

“I asked her out on a date 37 years ago and she told me no. It took me 37 years to get her to say yes.”

The manager of the location said the store previously hosted a wedding about seven years ago.  Well, I guess it’s no worse than a quick wedding at the courthouse on your lunch hour!

HELP!  HELP! CAW!

The Palm Beach County Sheriff’s Office received a 911 call from a Lake Worth Beach resident who heard what sounded like a distressed woman calling for help from a neighbor’s house.  When the deputies arrived, they found the owner of the house working on his wife’s car in the driveway while someone can be heard shouting, “Let me out! Let me out!”

The homeowner introduced the deputies to the origin of the cries — his pet parrot, Rambo, on an outside perch.

“I was changing the brakes on my wife’s car and had my 40-year-old parrot, Rambo, on his outside perch where he sings and talks. Sometime later four police officers showed up saying a neighbor called because she heard a woman screaming for help. I promptly introduced the officers to Rambo and we all had a good laugh.”

I found just a few funny signs a couple of weeks ago that I’ve been meaning to share …

Just a few fun cartoons & memes …

And that’s it … what?  Oh!  I forgot the cute animal video … how dare I?  Wait just a sec …

Now, that’s a wrap, folks.  Go forth and have a productive week and remember to share those million-dollar smiles I see on your faces this morning.  People need them now maybe more than ever.  Love ‘n hugs from Filosofa and Jolly!

Jolly Day After Sunday! How, I ask you, did it get to be Monday so fast?  And ... do you realize that January is almost half over?