#Shirt Printing Townsville

[littlebeemarketing]

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[simplysedusa]

How I imagine the Powerpuff Girls would dress

(credit to Pinterest for all the pictures)

Blossom Utonium

Blossom would be the kind of young lady who would have outfits for almost any occasion and sort them as such in her side of the closet and in her dressers (aside from maybe clubbing/partying). Clothes for interviews/press conferences tend to be a bit on the preppier side and a bit more modest (collared blouses with a monotone/neutral jumper, turtle necks, longer skirts, hair tied back with a pretty red or pink ribbon, ballet flats). Clothes she wears for casual wear would be a bit more colorful and fun (color striped skirt that may stop above the knee, jean jackets, high waisted jeans and shorts, more colorful sweaters, sneakers, doc martens, and knee/thigh/shin high boots). Longer skirts are ideal because they're easier to slip into in case of an emergency and she doesn't have to worry about being indecent while she's kicking ass and taking names. For my Pinterest board and this collage, I took inspiration from characters such as Betty Cooper from Riverdale, Nancy Wheeler from Stranger Things, Abbi Singh from The Imperfects, and Lara Jean from To All The Boys I Loved Before with a dash of real life fashion icon Audrey Hepburn, who I could see being a huge role model for Blossom. Her clothes would be more toward the pale, subdued, pastel side in terms of coloring. She'd love floral prints ironically because of her name, but also unironically because she thinks they're pretty. If she does wear designs other than floral, they're simple stripes, or polka dots, or plaid. Favorite colors to wear other than pink would be red, orange, gray, black, white, and like a creamy off-white. I also weirdly low-key headcanon Blossom being the sister to accidentally steal her sisters' clothes because she's in a rush to get ready and grabs the first thing that looks like hers and tries to gaslight them into thinking they're hers once she realizes the mistake ("It's pink, Bubbles, of course it's mine", "Why would I wear your stupid collared shirts, Buttercup?").

Bubbles Utonium

Bubbles is a girl who LOVES clothes and fashion (she is the artsy one after all). Her style is fun, cute, youthful, flirty, childlike (affectionate), usually vibrant and eyesore causing catching. She'd definitely buy and wear something that's baby pink, baby blue, AND lime green all at the same time because it reminds her of the bond between her and her sisters or something. She loves oversized cardigans and jackets, especially if they're fuzzy, furry, and/or soft (but NO REAL FUR). One of Bubbles' favorite outerwear is a baby blue winter coat with hearts on the back that reminds her of the Powerpuff Signal that Townsville occasionally uses. She loves to make STATEMENTS with her outfits, causing quite a few of her peers/classmates/coworkers to (make fun of her behind her back) think she's immature and childish. The designs on her clothes are almost always over the top and never subtle (rainbow polka dotted crop top, dresses covered with faces of cats or butterflies, etc.). If Bubbles is under the weather or down in the dumps, her clothes are much more plain OR she goes out of her way to wear something with those corny "it'll get better" empowerment sayings on it. She also isn't above wearing any of the clothing merch since she knows it's going to a good cause. Bubbles loves all colors of the rainbow so long as they're bright; Blossom and Buttercup joke that she might have more pink and green clothes than they do. She has no qualms wearing outfits that remind her of her favorite video games, cartoons, or movies. Luckily for her, Professor Utonium invented a spray that keeps blood and other monster bodily fluids off of the clothes so they don't stain, that way Bubbles' clothes can stay pretty and clean, just how she likes it. Just like her clothes, Bubbles also has a variety of shoes from Mary Jane shoes similar to the ones she used to wear as a little girl, to sneakers, to sandals, to heels she managed to get at a discount, and anything in-between (she definitely wears those furry monster feet slippers out in public too if she felt it complimented her outfit). Her favorite pair are all white converses because "they go with everything". She'd also add matching little clips or flowers in her pigtails, space buns, or whatever other style Bubbles chooses to wear her hair.

Buttercup Utonium

Buttercup's style is either sporty, athletic, and a bit preppy (she loves most of the athletic sport brands such as Nikes or Adidas) or 90's grunge casual. She low-key shows the most skin between her and her sisters with all of the crop tops, ripped jeans (with fishnet stockings underneath) and shorts, and other mesh and transparent tops she has (a girl's gotta show off her toned muscle somehow, she's too proud of it). If she isn't getting dress-coded for that, she's getting dress-coded for the sayings on her shirt that might read "fuck off", "what you can do, I can do bleeding", "free the nipple", or other rather crass remarks that the school might deem "offensive". Buttercup might occasionally dawn a skirt (preferably a not too short jean or even leather one) or dress (usually a T-shirt dress, maxi, or boho, anything fancier than that she lets Blossom and Bubbles pick one out for her) if she felt like it, but only if she's 100% sure she'll look hot in it and she's comfortable. Oversized plaid, collared shirts over grunge, rock band shirts and shorts (with a beanie if it's cold enough) are her bread and butter go-to. Other articles of clothing like leather jackets, tube tops, or her designer variety letterman jackets are saved for her nights out on the town, living up to her fulfilled prophecy from Boogie Frights. Color wise, Buttercup tends to stick to earthier, darker tones than her sisters, but she does own quite a few vibrant colored clothing items such as lime green, orange, purple, and even yellow (even though I didn't feature those, sssh lmao). Buttercup was really into camo when she was younger, but after realizing most of her outfits consisted of "black and/or khaki with camo", she realized she needed to step her game up, so she tries not to wear it as much anymore. Buttercup is also the most obsessed with shoes out of all the Powerpuff Girls. She's a HUGE sneakerhead and she's not modest about it (nothing pisses her off more than stepping on chewed gum, she too is thankful for Professor's new invention). Buttercup's also the only sister who really loves jewelry and accessories, especially chains.

[aclosetfan]

Lunch Break Blues

The wind whipped Blossom's hair as she tried wrestling it into a top knot. It had been raining on and off all day, and no doubt it would start up again soon, but while the rain had momentarily ceased, she and her sisters took advantage of the rare sunlight pouring through the broken clouds. It was the first lunch in a long week that they took perched atop one of the skyscrapers far from any prying eyes. Usually, a weather report full of rain made Townsville dull and would drive Buttercup crazy, but this week's unprecedented downpour had done little to stop Townsville's villains. Blossom suspected it was because they were feeling a little stir crazy too.

She didn't know what was worse, staying home and doing nothing or flying around soaked to the bone each day. Her hair was a frizzy mess, and she was pretty sure a nasty cold was on the horizon. The rain was such a nuisance that Bubbles had begun to forgo her tennis shoes or steel-toed boots for her daisy-print rain boots. Buttercup had busted out her rain repellant windbreaker. And Blossom had personally opted for her ugly yellow polka-dotted raincoat and matching hat, which yes, she knew looked ridiculous, but she dressed practicably not for fashion. She didn't care who laughed (her sisters and a choice selection of villains); at least she was staying reasonably dry!

The skyscraper they were at was far too windy for her hat to stay on, so she had shoved it in her pocket and went to task on taming her hair. An awful frizzy mess. She pouted and sighed, dropping her hands from her mangled top knot. Generally, the wind did very little to bug her, having the capability to fly and all, but it kept spraying rain droplets and puddles into her face and her hand itched towards her rain cap once more.

A dejected sigh from her left pulled her attention away from her own problems. Glancing over at Bubbles, whose pigtails had gone limp, stabbed absentmindedly at her salad. Her sister took a sad, miserable bite and chewed slowly as she watched the next round of clouds blow in with watery eyes. Bubbles had seemed to be feeling blue (har har) for the last few days, and it wasn't because of the rain. What for though, Blossom didn't know. Bubbles hadn't decided to pour her heart out just yet. However, that didn't deter her from trying to pry the problem out of her sister. Blossom was a problem-solver after all—it was one of her core defining traits.

"Bubs?" She asked with a tilt of her head, "You okay?"

"Oh, Bloss," Bubbles sighed, putting her salad down in favor of ringing out the water from her pigtails, "I'm just feeling a lil crummy. Don't worry."

Blossom snorted, "It'd be easier changing the tide."

That tugged a small smile out of Bubbles.

"Is it the rain?" She asked, already knowing it was the wrong answer.

Bubbles sighed, "No, it's not the rain—it's just, well, it's kind of silly actually."

"I could go for a good joke about now that isn't about my raincoat," Blossom shrugged.

"It's an affront to fashionable society, Blossom," Bubbles sniffed, "You look like a drowned clown!"

"On the outside!" She huffed, "But I'm perfectly dry, thank you, unlike some people."

"I look cute, rain or shine. Jealousy isn't a good color on you." Bubbles blew a raspberry at her before going back to stabbing her salad.

Blossom rolled her eyes and muffled an annoyed groan, "So you're not going to tell us what's up?"

"You'll just tell me it's silly."

The response stung a little, but Blossom shook it off, "Come on, I promise I won't—" she held out her pinky, "—I swear!"

Bubbles regarded her hand for a moment with a thoughtful look before linking their pinkies together. Simultaneously, they lifted their hands and sealed the deal with quick kisses to their fists.

"So," Blossom tried again, "what's up?"

Bubbles sigh was loud and dramatic as she brought one leg up to wrap her arms around, resting a cheek on her knee.

"It's my art," her sister complained, "I wanna make something big, you know, like real profound, but all I ever draw is cute stuff!"

Blossom felt her eyebrows furrow, "But you love cute stuff?"

"Van Gogh didn't get famous for drawing fluffy bunnies, Blossom!" Bubbles whined, "Real artists have really thoughtful ideas! They mean things, and anytime I try to do the same thing, it comes out stupid!"

"Van Gogh drank paint and killed himself. So I don't think he's someone you should be comparing yourself to."

"But he was a genius!"

"He was sick." Blossom counterpointed, "And couldn't find the help he needed. I prefer you sane and alive. Everyone does. The world doesn't need another tortured artist."

Bubbles pouted, "Yeah, but they don't need another goofy doodlist either. I want to make stuff that means something to people."

"They do mean something." She smiled, nudging Bubbles' shoulder with her own, "Your drawings always make me smile. They're happy and fun, and even if they're sometimes silly, that doesn't make them any less valuable to me. That counts for something, right?"

Bubbles smile brightened, and she giggled, "That's really sweet, Bloss, thanks. I think I needed to hear that, but—" there was another dejected sigh, "—I dunno, I just feel so uninspired and bored, and I really want to make a statement. I know there's something great inside me—"

"Because there is."

That earned her another smile, "—yeah, but I can't get it out! It's like all my hand can do is silly cartoons!"

Blossom nodded, "Well, I'm no artist myself, but I'm guessing there's nothing better than practice."

Bubbles flopped back onto the wet concrete, and Blossom cringed in sympathy as she imagined the water soaking its way through Bubbles' shirt.

"Bubs don't lay on—"

"I need to be more introspective!" Bubbles interrupted, "More in tune with myself and nature and the world! I need more life experiences, ya know, so I have stuff I can really pull from when I draw."

Outside of Bubbles probably being the most "self in-tuned" person Blossom knew, it was "life experiences" that threw her the most.

"Bubbles, life experiences? You're a superhero. You face the most depraved of society every day; you met people at their lowest moments. You've faced adversity larger than most will ever dare encounter!"

"But none of that has affected me! I need to get sad! I need to get in touch with my blue period!" Bubbles waved her hands around in exasperation, "I need to be relatable!"

"You've faced the worst and have come out better because of it," She scowled, "and you don't want that? Do you want to be emotionally scarred? To be relatable?"

Bubbles groaned and covered her face with her hands. "I knew you wouldn't get it!" Then came a muffled whine, "This is why I didn't wanna tell you!"

Blossom tsked, "I certainly don't see how being a beacon of hope as opposed to a cesspool of depression and self-pity is worse."

"It's not like that!" Bubbles shot up, "I don't want to be dark and depressed, but that's like what all the great art is!"

"Great art is the art that makes you feel, Bubbles; it doesn't matter what emotion that is, you know that. And if your art makes people feel happy, then what's the big issue?"

Bubbles deflated, "I dunno. I just want to make something that'll make people remember. Centuries from now, I want it to inspire people! Go, oh, I want that! Whatever that is." Bubbles looked up back at the clouds, "And that means I've really got to come up with something good. Something meaningful, but I've got zero ideas."

Blossom considered what she was saying for a moment before nodding, "Okay, I think I understand what you're saying. It's like you're in an art block."

"Yeah," Bubbles nodded, "I'm on creative hold. Everything I make, I don't like."

"Well, this weekend, why don't we go to the art museum, look at the stuff you want to emulate, and try to get into the head of the artist, you know?"

Bubbles perked up, "That's a good idea! You'd really wanna come with me?"

"Of course. We'll drag Buttercup along too. You know she needs some sophisticating." Blossom murmured, shooting their other sister a sideways look.

With the hood of her windbreaker still partially up and wet dripping hair curling in every direction, Buttercup sat perched on the ledge of the building a few feet away, hunched over her sandwich. She chewed mechanically in what looked like deep pensive thought. Her eyebrows were furrowed as she seemed to study the cars far below. She had been mostly quiet this afternoon, happy to be outside but pissy about the rain, and had spent much of their lunch hour shooing away a group of hungry pigeons that seemed to follow her everywhere she went. The pigeons, however, seemed to be appeased at the moment with the few chunks of bread and potato chips Buttercup had relinquished to them.

Blossom expected Buttercup to snap at her for the comment, but it seemed she was so lost in her own little world, watching the cars whiz by, that she hadn't heard them talking.

Bubbles giggled, "Actually, Bloss, I was thinking I needed to be a bit more like Buttercup."

She gave Bubbles a look, jabbing a thumb towards their sister, "Buttercup?"

"Mm-hmm," Bubbles nodded.

"Our sister?" Blossom asked again for clarification, "Buttercup?"

"Ah, come on! Look at her!" Bubbles grabbed her by the cheeks and swiveled her head back towards Buttercup, "She's got the look down."

"What look?" Blossom asked, but because her cheeks were being squished, it came out like, "Wa'ok?" Bubbles understood her regardless.

"That dark, introspective look." Bubbles explained, "Ya know, mused hair, dark under-eyes, stained fingers. The look of a moody artist!"

Generally, Buttercup's hair was mused because she refused to brush it since it was "short for a reason, Blossom." Today, it was also because of the rain. Furthermore, Buttercup had dark under-eyes partly because she insisted on wearing dark eyeliner that smudged halfway down her face every day without fail, and also because she had stayed up until 3 a.m. last night playing video games. And finally, Buttercup's fingers were stained not because of any artistic endeavor but because she had stuck her whole hand into a vat of black and mysterious sludge this morning. She had done so because Blossom had explicitly told her not to stick her hand in the vat of black and mysterious sludge they had been investigating, which had been a mistake on Blossom's part. She knew her sister couldn't resist doing something after it had been brought to her attention, so why she had decided to tell Buttercup not to mess with the vat of sludge was beyond her.

And while Buttercup was often quote-unquote moody, it wasn't because she was broody or introspective. It was because she was either hungry or bored or sometimes both. Bubbles was actually the moody and overly sensitive one, but Blossom knew better than to say that out loud.

"She looks like she needs a bath." Blossom huffed, pulling her face from Bubbles grasp.

"Don't focus on that." Bubbles waved her off, "Look how deep in thought she is! Buttercup isn't much for talking, is she? I bet she's got a lot going on in that head of hers."

"Buttercup?" She asked, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion once again.

Bubbles rolled her eyes and gave her shoulder a playful wack, "Don't be mean! I'm serious. She's been sitting like that for half an hour now, looking, thinking—"Bubbles tapped her chin in thought, "—I wonder what she's thinking about. From the looks of it, it must be important."

Blossom looked back over at Buttercup, tracing her eyes over her sister's face once more to look for something she may have missed. Her look was pensive. And it was admittedly artsy even if it was on accident. She supposed that even if Buttercup tended to evade artistic endeavors in favor of more physical hobbies, she could still be a poet at heart.

Buttercup was done with her sandwich now and handed off the crumbs to the birds. She still seemed lost in thought. However, she had moved her attention away from the hustle and bustle of the city to the clouds above. She didn't smile, but when a beam of light broke through the clouds and landed on her face, the stress lines on her forehead disappeared, and contentment passed over her features. Blossom couldn't help smiling at the sight of it. It was nice to see her like that. Maybe she was thinking about something profound and meaningful. Bubbles was right. Buttercup wasn't one to share her every single thought unless she was pissed, annoyed, or pressed for an answer. When Buttercup was in a good mood, she simply vibed, enjoying the quality time.

Blossom hardly thought she was mysterious, though. Buttercup's body language was more than enough to determine her mood. If she liked a song, she'd bob her head to its beat. If she liked a certain food, she'd inhale it without breathing. But now that Bubbles had said it, what was Buttercup actually thinking about?

Suddenly, Blossom felt guilty for never asking.

"Hey, Butters?" She called out to their sister, snapping a few times to get her attention.

Buttercup blinked back into reality and turned to face them, "Mhm?"

"What are you thinking about?" She asked.

"What am I thinking about?" Buttercup tilted her head, giving them both a look, "Why?"

"Don't worry about it." Bubbles spoke up, "Just tell us, right now, what you're thinking about."

Buttercup shrugged, looked away, smacked her lips a few times, and looked back, "Lizards."

"Lizards?" Blossom heard herself echoing as every kind, and warm thought she had regarding Buttercup came to a crashing halt.

Buttercup shrugged again, picking at her teeth, before looking back up at the clouds, "They're cool as shit, dude."

Blossom blinked once and then twice before turning back to Bubbles, who looked a little bit dumbstruck. 

"Well, you're right when you're right, Bubbles. She's a real Van Gogh in the making," She snorted dryly.

"Ah, shut it," Bubbles huffed, crossing her arms.

"Wait," Buttercup spoke up over the wind, "why you dumbasses talking about vans?"

"Face it, Bubs," Blossom smiled, ignoring Buttercup, "you don't give yourself enough credit. If there's someone here proficient in artistic musings, it's not the pigeon whisperer. It's most definitely you."

Bubbles uncrossed her arms and sent her a warm smile, leaning her damp head on her shoulder, "Maybe you're right, Bloss, but could we still go to the art museum?"

"Yeah, duh." Blossom smiled, leaning her head on Bubbles, "You know I love museums."

"Hey!" Buttercup shouted, hands on her hips, "Seriously, which van are two laughing about, and where is it going!"

[etherealauralite]

The blueprint (or pink print, in this case): @whitscanvas 🤍💗💜 ٩(°ε° ) ۶ - - My nose highlight is a heart, but you can’t tell 😎 - - Eyeliner: @glisten_cosmetics Wet Liner in “Grape” & “Strawberry” - Highlight: @carlibel x @anastasiabeverlyhills palette in “Mandala” also on my eyes, mixed w/ a random @lancomeofficial palette - Brows: @anastasiabeverlyhills Brow Definer “Granite” & @nyxcosmetics Clear Brow Gel - Foundation: @ilmakiage Shade 215 - Concealer: @uomabeauty Stay Woke “Bronze Venus T3” - Setting powder: @beautybakeriemakeup Pinch of Flour “Plantain (Caramel)” & @dermablendpro Loose Setting Powder “Warm Saffron” - Setting spray: @urbandecaycosmetics De-Slick oil control - Contour: @morphebrushes 3502 palette “Brunette” - - Earrings: @katespadeny - - Lilac Shirt: @hm - - I can’t remember any more details 🐰 - #makeuptut #theartistedit #graphiceyeliner #pastelaesthetic #powerpuffgirls #pinkaesthetic #editorialmakeup #brows #anastasiabrows #uomabeauty #urbandecay #beautybakerie #glistencosmetics #goldenhour #blackgirlmakeup #blackgirlmagic✨ #talentedmuas #muasfeaturing #featuringmuas #makeupinspo (at The City Of Townsville) https://www.instagram.com/p/CNbc9xHMDni/?igshid=1d73mquvlo048

[renaerys]

18. “I think you’re beautiful.” (Boomer/Bubbles)

{{Original posting unfortunately deleted. Reposted here.}}

February Fic Prompt #8 originally requested by the lovely huinari.

xxx

This was, far and away, the nicest thing Boomer had ever done for anyone. And it wasn’t even for his girlfriend, but for her micromanaging older sister.

“Okay boys, you’re on in 10!” Blossom said. “Make sure you pause to pose at the end of the catwalk so the photographers can get some good pictures for the paper. Remember, this is for charity, so it’s meaningful and important work. You should all feel extremely proud of yourselves for helping out. I know I am.”

Boomer groaned and stared at his painted reflection in the vanity. His winged eye-liner, violet eye shadow, and push-up bra made him feel some kind of way, but it was not proud. As much as he adored Bubbles, and as much as he valued Blossom as a friend, he could not help but regret his decision to participate in the charity drag show, no matter how much money they were raising for the Townsville Planned Parenthood branch.

“How the fuck do girls wear all this shit?” said Floyd, picking at the tight fishnets under his miniskirt that were causing a wedgie. “It’s so uncomfortable!”

“Beauty is pain,” said Mitch, where he currently sat battling a strappy kitten heel sandal that was obviously a size too small for his foot. “Jesus fucking Christ, I’ve literally never been so close to committing shoe murder!”

“Is that a thing?” Boomer asked, pulling at his hair. He was one of the few boys with naturally longer hair, which Buttercup had curled and styled for him. The result was that he looked a little like Bubbles, save for the insane amount of theater makeup.

“I mean, is a shoe alive?” asked Harry as he touched up his fire-engine red lipstick in the mirror over Boomer’s shoulder. The dude was completely at ease walking around in Beyoncé’s Single Ladies costume.

“Of course it is! Every shoe has a personality.” Bubbles giggled as she made the rounds to all the Townsville High School Junior boys who’d signed up to participate in the charity show.

“Personality doesn’t equal sentience,” Mitch said, still struggling. “Otherwise, this thing would feel my murder intent and get on my fucking foot!”

He lost his temper and threw the shoe clear across the room, where Buttercup caught it before it could sustain damage. “Why do I feel like I just interrupted some dumb argument?”

“We’re at a drag show,” Boomer said. “How are you surprised?”

“Bro, you’re doing it wrong. You gotta tuck that shit away,” said Joey, captain of the football team and unexpectedly super down to get this show on the road. He did look rather fabulous in his leopard print romper. Objectively speaking.

“I am?” Elmer Sgloo looked like someone had used him to crack open a disco ball. He nervously examined his tight, sequined pants that left little to the imagination.

“Yeah, you know, tuck,” Joey insisted.

“But I thought I did!”

“No—here, fine, I’ll help you.”

Harry whistled suggestively. “Get a room, you two.”

“Or not. My sister will castrate all of you if you hold up the show,” Buttercup said. She held out the recovered shoe to Mitch. “C’mon Cinderella, gimme that foot.”

Bubbles laughed as she watched them all, but Boomer didn’t share her amusement. He looked sullenly at his reflection.

Butch and Brick are never gonna let me live this one down.

His brothers would be in the audience of course. Neither had been willing to participate in the show, of course, no matter what Blossom said or did. She hadn’t put up much of a fight; when Brick made up his mind, that was that. But Boomer, sap that he was, just couldn’t say no.

“Hey you,” Bubbles said softly enough that no one could overhear them. “How are you holding up? Ready to get out there?”

Boomer met her gaze in the mirror, and he just couldn’t deal anymore. “No, I’m really not.”

Bubbles’ soft smile morphed into genuine concern, and she spun him around in his chair to look at him properly. “What’s the matter? Boomer, talk to me. You look really upset. Does the dress not fit?”

He shook his head. Glitter fell from his hair, and that just made him feel even worse. “No, the dress is fine. Everything’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. Hey, look at me.”

He looked at her. She was so pretty in skinny jeans and a blazer over her 100% Human T-shirt in support of the event. Her hair was up and out of her face, professional for the evening but somehow still the cute, sweet girl he’d fallen for hard. It was stupid, he was stupid, and he knew she’d tell him as much. But damnit, he couldn’t help but feel upset knowing what his brothers and the other guys at school would say when they saw him.

“I just feel so…so ugly like this,” he whined. “Like, I know it’s for a good cause. And I really thought it’d be fun. For real. I wasn’t just doing it because you asked. Mitch ’n the guys are here too, it’s cool, just…”

“Just, Mitch and the guys aren’t Brick and Butch,” Bubbles said simply.

Boomer sighed. He wanted to rub his eyes, but the last time he did that Robin gave him an earful for ruining the makeup she’d spent so much time perfecting.

“Boomer,” Bubbles said. “I’m going to tell you something, and I want you to hear me, all right?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Hey.” She kneeled down so she was looking up at him and held his hands in hers. “I’m serious. Are you listening?”

“I’m listening.”

“Good. I think you’re beautiful.”

He scoffed. “Uh-huh.”

She didn’t laugh at him. Her hand pressed over his heart. “You are the kindest, most compassionate person I know. You care so much about people, even when they don’t always return that kindness. That takes an amazing kind of strength most people aren’t brave enough to have, and I think that’s super hot.”

Boomer stared at her. “C’mon.”

She tugged on his dress and pulled him closer. “I’ve never been more serious.”

He was surprised when she kissed him, heedless of the lipstick that would ruin her own makeup, but he just about lost his mind when she climbed onto his lap and made out with him right there in front of everyone. Harry whistled, and Joey and Mitch laughed and clapped.

“Get some, Queen!” Floyd joked.

“Oh my god,” Buttercup muttered. “I seriously need new friends.”

Breathless, Boomer stared up at his girlfriend as she very, very sexily wiped bright pink lipstick residue from her lips and winked at him. “If your brothers have a problem, they can take it up with me personally. I’m actually pretty hardcore, you know.”

Yes, yes he did know. He swallowed and nodded, speechless.

Blossom came back in, her eyes glued to her clipboard and a headset buzzing on her head. “Okay guys, we’re on! Harry, you’re up first, so go line up. Remember, as flamboyant as possible. This is to make people happy so they want to donate the big bucks.” She looked around the room and smiled sincerely. “You all look fabulous, holy cow.”

“I swear to god, if this doesn’t, like, end with free birth control for all, I’m officially quitting the human race,” Mitch said.

“I like your energy, Mitch. Keep that going out there,” Blossom said. She clapped her hands. “Let’s go, the music’s starting!”

Bubbles helped Boomer up. He ran his thumb over her lip to wipe away some of the lipstick she’d missed. “Well, here I go to my social suicide. Guess there’s worse ways to go that don’t help at-risk women.”

Bubbles grinned. “Your feminism is a big turn on for me right now.”

“…Wait, for real?”

“Boomer, go! Stop staring at Bubbles and get your cute butt out there!” Blossom swooped over and grabbed him by the elbow.

“Wait, Bubbles, for real though?” he called after her.

They’d talked about, you know, going all the way, but only in passing, metaphorically speaking. Could she really mean…???

The spotlight was bright and the music was loud, but Boomer forgot all about his trepidation thinking about Bubbles’ smile, the way she’d kissed him so confidently, and her genuine words. Who cared what Butch and Brick thought? It suddenly seemed so insignificant as he took the stage to a crowd of cheering, screaming people all looking for a fun night out. Joey high-fived him enthusiastically as they passed on the catwalk, and Boomer couldn’t stop himself smiling.

Maybe, doing something to help people wasn’t so bad.

[supposed2bfunny]

It’s a collaboration for Murdoc’s big day!! @trashfrog99 and I worked together to produce this art and story to celebrate our favorite Satanist! Also, I must credit @elapsed-spiral for the concept of Murdoc’s gift being a sort of “Kong 2.0″ (her words, her story Yearz). That chapter was a huge inspiration for what this story would morph into. Rating: T Warnings: None Murdoc’s grand plan to sleep until approximately four in the afternoon was dashed by the tentative knock on his door around lunchtime. “Boss?” Ace’s voice called, “you up?” He fumbled around blindly until he found a bottle opener on his bedside table and threw it at the door to communicate his annoyance. “I am now,” he growled, sitting up and smoothing his disheveled bedhead as best he could. “Give us a tic, you twat, I’m not decent.” After the pre-birthday celebration that he’d had with Stu, that was a wild understatement. The cap to a bottle of lube and a veritable parade of condom wrappers scattered across the floor as he threw his bed sheets aside and groped around for something to wear. A full two minutes later, he was zipping up a pair of jeans and trying to sort out his rattiest Prince tee-shirt, which seemed determined to remain inside out. “Yeah, what do you want at the ass-crack of dawn anyway?” he asked, opening the door and half-expecting Ace to have vacated already. But the American stood there, sunglasses hanging from the neck of his tee and a smile on his boney face. “Happy birthday, bossman!” he replied, punching Murdoc’s shoulder (he was strong for such a scrawny guy; it hurt). “Fifty-three, bet you never expected to make it that far, huh?” “That’ putting it mildly,” he responded, but he smiled, and he knew that of all people, Ace felt no discomfort with the cryptic humor. “Now can I go back to sleep, or did you want to sing that insipid birthday song to me?” “Actually,” Ace ducked forward to look over Murdoc’s shoulder, then back the way that he had come up the stairs to make sure they were alone. “I wanted to give you a little something. Something the rest of the crew might not appreciate too much, if you catch my drift.” “Gang stuff?” Murdoc asked, perking up and feeling awake for the first time. “Is it drugs?” “No!” the younger man snorted. “You know I don’t do that shit no more. Now hold out your hand.” Murdoc agreed, expression suspicious as Ace reached into his back pocket. A moment later, he dropped something cool and heavy into the bassist’s palm. He withdrew his hand and Murdoc’s eyes widened in amazement. “Brass knuckles? The Gentle Green Giant owns a pair of brass knuckles?” “Owned. Want you to have ‘em, boss.” Murdoc slipped them on, impressed at their weight. He’d never worn a pair before, though he’d known plenty of people in his life who’d owned them between his drug-filled youth and many days in prison. “You never used these,” he accused. “Same as your switchblade. It’s all for show.” “Used ‘em exactly once, actually,” he corrected. “Back when I had my crew in Townsville, some junkie came after one of my guys, Lil Arturo. And little Artie was just a kid, see? I had to protect him. I panicked: punched the guy once, twice, saw blood, ran,” he pushed his long black hair behind his ears. “You know I was never really much of a fighter. But these have been used to protect family, and that’s why I want you to have ‘em. After that experience is when I decided to quit the gang shit and pursue music more seriously. And opening for Gorillaz? That was my first official gig that landed me some cash so’z I could turn my life around.” He took a deep breath and pointed at the brass knuckles. “Those’re significant to me. And all you’ve done to let me stay with you guys, even after you came back from the slammer, well…it’s been significant to me too…” Murdoc could see that Ace was becoming emotional, and though there was a day where he would have laughed at the younger man, he instead placed a hand on his shoulder. “Pretty cool gift, I must admit. Not as great as some blow, but it’ll do.” “They’re not for violence, got it?” Ace looked at him seriously. “They’re symbolic. Using those things changed me, set the course of my life in a new direction!” “Right, right, great life changes and all that, got it, Ace,” he looked into the younger man’s eyes. “You’re uh, you’re all right. For a ‘guido’.” “I’m the one who taught you that word!” Ace snapped, misty eyes suddenly fiery with anger. “You don’t get to call me that! That’s practically a slur, you know!” “Right, riiight, if this little heart-to-heart is over,” he replied, “I’m going to go get some breakfast.” “It’s past noon. That’s lunch, you stupid old man.” “Youth is wasted on the young,” he replied, but he made sure that Ace saw him slip the brass knuckles into his pocket, a new treasure to keep close at all times. In the kitchen he was greeted first by the strong smell of frying bacon, and then by Russel standing at the stove, spatula in hand. “You’re normally up earlier’n this, Russ,” Murdoc commented, eyeing the sizzling bacon with interest. “Everything all right?” “I’ve been up, Muds. This is for you.” “What? A man turns fifty-three and suddenly everyone learns how they should have been treating him all along, huh? I quite like this worship.” “Don’t push your luck. But there’s beans in the microwave; get those out and grab a plate.” “Russel, I could kiss you.” “I can smell your breath from over here, man; you’d better not even think about it.” Murdoc cackled and did as he was told, fetching a plate and finding a Pyrex container of baked beans warmed in the microwave for him. As he spooned some onto his plate, Russel came over with the frying pan, offering him several slices of one of his favorite foods. “Bon appétit.” “Now you wouldn’t happen to have gone the extra step and made—” Russel turned back to the countertop and grabbed two mugs of coffee, sliding one over to the bassist. It was his favorite mug no less: one that had been sent to Stu from someone alleging to be his child, a tired ‘World’s Best Dad’ print across it either a deluded or a very ironic statement. They’d never determined which. While Stu had begged to throw it out, Murdoc had adopted it with glee, smirking every time the singer glared at him for using it. The drummer had a cup himself as well, and they each took a sip, nodding in approval at the taste. Russel had always been of the philosophy that no one should have to eat a meal alone, so he kept the bassist company as he ate, a comfortable silence falling, interrupted only by the sound of silverware scraping the porcelain plate. “We’re getting old,” Russel finally said, watching Murdoc push his plate away with finality although he hadn’t cleared it. His appetite, which had never been big, was even smaller these days. “Yeah, well, not like we’re slowing down,” he countered. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Not when there’s still so much left to do. I mean, you’ve got that bloody non-profit for immigrant kids who want to learn tambourine or whatever.” He pulled a face. “Crass, Murdoc, very crass. But yeah, I have a lot of work cut out for me with the Kids with Drums foundation. I was also thinking that we still have a lot more music to create.” Murdoc paused, clicking his teeth against the ceramic rim of the mug. It was the first time that Russel had been the one to propose more music. “You thinking another album, big boy? Gorillaz or…solo?” Russel smiled enigmatically. “I’m thinking sky’s the limit. But hey, I have a lot to do before tonight’s big dinner, so I’ll leave you to your coffee.” He rapped his knuckles against the table and pushed himself up to leave. “Oi, Russ?” He paused, mid-stride. “Yeah?” Murdoc poked at the remaining beans on his plate with a fork, watching them slide through bacon grease. “You’re the only one in this bloody house who isn’t afraid to fry this shit to a crisp. Well done.” The drummer shook his head. “See you later, asshole.” Once he’d finished his coffee, the bassist carried his dishes to the sink, looking out the small window and into the backyard. First Ace talking about the past and how he’d changed careers, then Russel being all vague about making new music. It felt like they were giving him subtle warnings of change to come, and the bassist felt apprehension begin to coil in his gut. They were offering clues to him, clues that seemed to suggest change. He wasn’t ready to retire yet, and it wasn’t until he dropped his mug into the sink, causing a harsh clatter, that he realized his hands had begun to shake. “Snap out of if Niccals,” he muttered. He was jumping to conclusions, that was all. He hoped. He double checked that the mug had not cracked, and, satisfied, left the dirty dishes for someone else to take care of. He made his way to the screen door in the back of their house, hoping a smoke would calm his nerves. Before he could make it outside, a pair of arms wrapped around his middle from behind and he jumped slightly. “Happy birthday, Dad.” “I appreciate the sentiment, luv, but you only call me that about twice a year.” “Christmas and birthdays, right?” The guitarist asked, squeezing him just slightly, reminding him that in spite of her small stature, she was strong enough to snap him in half if she wanted to. “Proper submarine daughter you are, popping up to show face then disappearing again for six months. Relax, I haven’t written you out of the inheritance yet.” She laughed and turned him around to hug him properly. “Your breath stinks.” “So I’ve been told,” he said with a shrug. “If you think I’m going to brush my teeth on my birthday you’ve got another thing coming. Live with it.” She pretended to gag, but grabbed his wrist, placing something small and metal in it with a simple “here’s your gift.” He looked down to see a house key and again, a wave of nervous energy hit him. “You changed the locks?” he looked at her. “Noods, what happened? Everything okay?” “I can’t tell you all the details; it’s not my story to tell,” she replied, patting his arm. “But don’t worry. I promise you’ll be happy when you hear the whole story. Just don’t lose this key, okay? I have no patience for you tapping on windows asking me to let you in at four in the morning after a night of revelry.” “That only happened once or twice!” he cried in indignation. “Once or twice that you can remember,” she corrected, crossing her arms over her chest. “Happened way more than that. Lucky for you, I forgive you for disturbing my beauty sleep.” “Very generous of you,” he said, pulling out a pack of Lucky Lungs and placing one between his lips, offering her one as well. He really didn’t love that she smoked, but he knew there was no stopping Noodle from doing what she wanted to do. “I’m good,” she replied, holding up a hand. “Care for some company, or was this Murdoc Meditation Hour?” “Was actually looking to sort my thoughts out if it’s all the same to you,” he answered, nodding towards the door. No need to risk slipping up and showing the poor girl how unsettled he was on a day that was supposed to be happy. “Seems that everything is starting to change, have you noticed?” “Change doesn’t have to be bad, Murdoc. Issun saki wa yami. You’ve got the support: whatever comes your way, it will be kind.” “No idea what you just said, but it sounds nice. Thanks, pet.” “Looking forward to dinner tonight,” she said brightly, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “Don’t make yourself sick with cancer sticks: the restaurant is supposed to have amazing desserts.” “I don’t—” “Desserts so good even you will like them!” she corrected herself as she headed back upstairs, presumably to find her partner in crime, Ace. Murdoc sighed and headed outside, enjoying the warmth as the sun broke free from the clouds for a moment. He took a seat on one of the aged folding chairs on the patio, lighting his cigarette and trying to control his thoughts. Something was coming, and he was terrified. Even more upsetting than the promise of unwelcome change however was the fact that he hadn’t once been able to speak the words he wanted to say. To Ace, to Russel, to Noodle. They’d all spent time with him, they’d all been so kind. This time last year, he’d been certain that his moments of fame had ended. Alone in prison and with no contact from his mates, he’d listened despondently as news came through that Gorillaz were producing a new album without him, and he’d smuggled in enough technology to be able to watch in real time as many fans took to social media, celebrating the band’s new bassist and suggesting it was a new era for Gorillaz. A better era. Murdoc shuddered at the memory of his cot in prison, of the time spent reflecting on how quickly the world seemed to forget about him. He’d thought frequently of his father, who had died alone and miserable in his home in Stoke, no one to mourn him, no one to express sympathy for his passing. He’d been so certain that he was destined for the same fate, and that he’d been delusional to hope for a better outcome. Murdoc stubbed out his first cigarette, having smoked it down in record speed. He lit a new one, eyes fixed on the grass sprouting up between cracks in the patio. Stop it, he willed himself. Stop working yourself up. You have to put on a show for the others in a couple of hours. For the love of Satan get it together! The sound of the screen door shuttering open and closed startled him from his thoughts, and he heard someone approaching him. He recognized the ungainly gait by sound alone instantly and searched his anxiety-rattled brain for a dry comment to make. Stuart beat him to it, singing softly, looking ahead at the backyard rather than at his boyfriend. “Why you rolling waves over me now, that’s all I need, dreaming,
waiting on a lover, come find me, be forgiven.” Of course. That bloody song. The most overt declaration of love that the singer had ever offered him, the one that had signaled to Murdoc that their relationship was not irreparable. A fucking beacon of hope when he’d been at such a low point in prison. The bassist drew his lower lip between his teeth and stared doggedly ahead, not wanting to break down although he felt his walls crumbling under the soothing sound of his lover’s voice. “I’ll be a regular guy for you, I never said I’d do that,
why you looking so beautiful to me now when you’re so sad?” Stu turned to look at him as he sang, and although he still didn’t look at the singer, Murdoc felt his eyes grow damp, felt the wetness hanging on his lower lashes, threatening to spill over his cheek. Pathetic. “I will always think about you.
That’s why I’m calling you back
on my way through. I wanna stay with you for a long time, I wanna be your stone, love. 
I wanna see it lay in your eyes when I’m leaving with your love. I will always think about you.
That’s why I’m calling you back
on my way through.” Murdoc sighed, exhaled gray smoke through his nostrils. This man was going to be the death of him, really. He was simply too perfect. “Why you looking sad to me now, on the day of your birth, luv?” he asked, wording it so he could maintain his cadence. “Enough with the damn singing mate.” He grit out, relieved when his voice didn’t crack or waver. “Seriously, answer the question.” Stu replied. “What can I say? Your voice is so angelic it moves me to tears every time.” “Bullshit,” Stuart reached over and plucked the cigarette from between his fingers, taking a puff for himself. “Muds, you were fine this morning. What’s wrong?” The bassist took a deep breath and blinked rapidly until he felt certain he wasn’t going to loose any tears. “Just, feel like a lot is happening these days. Between you and me, I think Ace is getting ready to move on from the band.” Stuart handed him back his cigarette and furrowed his brow. “That makes no sense. He’s signed a contract to remain a studio musician for us for the next few years. I think he’s happy here. Don’t think he’s going to be leaving anytime soon.” The bassist shrugged. “Just a sneaking suspicion. He opened up a bit to me this morning and was being extra nice. And Russel too!” The singer actually snorted at that. “You think Russ is leaving too? What, he and Ace gonna start a new band?” “Mate, I don’t know, but he was being all friendly and chatty with me too. The man is up to something. These Americans, I swear to Satan they’re hard to understand.” “That’s why you were out here sulking? You’re afraid we’re all drifting apart?” The younger man took his boyfriend’s hand, laced their fingers together in the way that always made Murdoc melt a little. “I think you’re just assuming the worst.” “Even Noodle was acting off. She gave me a new house key. You know anything about that, by the way? Why’d she have to have our locks changed?” “She didn’t change the locks on the door.” “Then why this key?!” he snapped, reaching into his pocket and showing it to the singer. Stu looked at it, then looked at his high-strung bandmate. “Muds, why don’t you come inside?” he suggested. “Sure you don’t want to break up with me first, just to keep things fresh?” “Don’t joke like that,” he said sternly, standing up and offering his hand out to the older man, who took it, allowing himself to be pulled up and into a hug. “Murdoc, babe. It’s okay.” “I’m just mental, aren’t I?” he asked. “I feel like a bloody spring about to snap and I don’t know why!” “I think there’s reasons why you might be upset,” the singer argued. “You’ve got a lot of bad memories from last summer. We all know how susceptible you are to PTSD. Are you nervous because this time last year you were alone?” The connection made perfect sense as soon as the singer said it, and Murdoc felt like an ass instantly. “That’s it!” he practically shouted at the poor singer. “That’s why I’ve been so off. My brain is doing that fucking thing that it does. Shit, I’m such a mess!” “Hey, I’ve told you to be kinder to yourself,” the taller man chastised. He had a habit of talking like a therapist sometimes, the result of all the therapy sessions he’d attended. At first it had been annoying, but sometimes Murdoc secretly felt safe in the knowledge that Stu could help him navigate his mind a little bit. “You’re not a mess. You’ve had a tough year. That’s part of why we’re going to celebrate tonight,” he paused to kiss Murdoc with no warning, and the bassist gasped against his mouth in shock. “Gonna spoil you rotten,” he promised gently. “I…” Emotion was flooding through Murdoc’s system once again, but this time, he didn’t feel as panicked. He needed to speak, needed to say what he’d been meaning to say all day. “Oi, old man,” Stu interrupted him, “have I told you today that I love you? Because I do, you know. More and more every day.” “Thank you,” Murdoc garbled. It was somewhere between a prayer and a sob. “Thank you, Stu.” “Of course,” he murmured, stroking the older man’s bangs out of his eyes. “Murdoc. Let’s go inside now, okay?” The bassist allowed himself to be led back inside, his hand gripping the singer’s so tight it had to hurt a little, but Stu didn’t complain. In the living room, he found the other three, Noodle and Ace both splayed out on the couch, occasionally holding up their phones to show the other memes. Russel sat back in his recliner, smiling when the two came in. “There’s the birthday boy.” “All hail,” Ace commented without looking up from his phone. “Har har,” Murdoc responded. “So let’s cut to the chase: is it terminal? Will I live, doctors?” He tried to keep his voice light as he joked, but his hands had begun to shake again, and he could feel Stu’s fingers tighten around his even more, a silent I’m here. “Yeah, we’ve got a big surprise for you,” Noodle said, sitting up straight. “In case you were too dumb to figure it out, the key I gave you isn’t for this house.” “It’s for our new one,” Stu said, letting go of Murdoc’s hand so he could instead wrap an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. “Our what now?” “Rumor has it that back around 2007, Kong Studios burned down under ‘mysterious circumstances,’” Russel said. “And knowing a thing or two about criminal activity, I can confirm that that’s code for arson,” Ace quipped. “You cashed in on the insurance money and produced an album,” Noodle continued coolly, and Murdoc tensed at the allusion to Plastic Beach. “And due to its history of zombie invasions, shitty weather, and a whole lot of burned garbage left after Kong was melted down, local governance has had an unbelievably hard time selling that chunk of land that you abandoned.” “So recently, I had this idea, and I think you’re smart enough to fill in the rest.” Stu finished, pressing a kiss to his temple. Everything clicked, and a shiver of excitement ran up Murdoc’s spine. “You mean to tell me you’ve bought the property? The hill in Essex? It’s ours?” “Oh Murdoc, don’t sell me short,” the singer said with a pout. “Not just the land. I spoke to EMI. Well, they want me to call them Parlophone, but it’s EMI, right? They wouldn’t grant me a pence without some sort of contract, so I’ve agreed to their terms. Something in the ballpark of six tours and two albums over the next eight years or something. Pretty manageable by our standards, frankly. Some merch, here and there. I’ll leave that up mostly to Noodle and Ace since they know what the kids like.” “EMI gave us money for this?” Murdoc clarified, feeling dizzy with the news. “Murdoc, darling, they’ve built us a new studio,” he said gently. “We’re going back to England, and we’re going to do amazing things there.” “That key I gave you,” Noodle said. “It’s for our new home. Just like at Kong. It’ll be our living space as well as our music space. We need to make up for the year we lost without you and El Diablo.” “Holy shit…” he reached into his pocket for his Lucky Lungs, only to realize that he’d left them in the backyard. With nothing for his hands to do he could only tremble, too overwhelmed to meet his bandmates’ eyes. “This is too good to be true.” “It’s true,” Stu promised, hugging him tight, doing all he could to comfort him physically. “Happy Birthday, Murdoc. Ready to start the next phase of our lives together?” “Y-yeah, alright,” he agreed, voice watery. “We’re going to get it right this time,” the singer assured. “We’re gonna go back to where it all began.” “We’re ready to crash the music scene with you once again, boss,” Ace promised. “I’ll be there to help out, but this band needs their number one bassist back.” “The goal is to move back by the end of the summer as long as you’re okay with it,” Russel explained. “That way you have time to pack and say goodbyes. And maybe start writing down new ideas so we can hit the ground running.” “Are you happy?” Noodle asked, seeing the bassist’s tense body language. “Yes,” he said quickly. “I think he’s a little overwhelmed,” Stu explained, stroking the older man’s hair. “Give us a minute?” “We were here first—” Ace started, but Noodle smacked his arm and they both rose to leave the house. “Fine, fine! We’ll go. By the way, check out Twitter and Insta, Muds. Hundreds of hits from fans drawing you in your skivvies with cake. It’s hilarious!” “We’ll be back in a few hours to get ready for the dinner reservation,” Noodle promised, shoving the American out the front door and blowing a kiss. “I’m gonna take a walk around the block,” Russel said, patting the bassist’s shoulder as he passed them. “Start mentally preparing to say goodbye to America again.” The front door clattered and the two were left alone, Stu’s hand still smoothing the bassist’s hair as Murdoc took deep breaths to keep himself calm. “Too much?” The singer asked once he was sure they had privacy. “No! This is…this was all…” Murdoc waved his hands, lost for words. “I can’t understand why you lot would do all this for me.” “I mean, it’s really for the whole band,” Stu reasoned. “We wanted it to be a surprise for you though. Because you’re a vital part of the band, and we want you to know that. I know you doubted it, even if you don’t ever admit that out loud. I hope this proves how serious we are about keeping you in Gorillaz, Muds. The reason they were all so nice to you on your birthday…it’s because they all care about you, same as me.” The older man smiled up at him. “I guess I should have thought of that,” he admitted quietly. “But! I can’t believe we get to go back to the place that started it all. Out of the ashes, Gorillaz will rise again like a bloody phoenix!” “Like from Harry Potter?” He was able to laugh now, leaning up to kiss Stu in all his quirky glory. “I’m ready to start again, do it right this time. With my soul mate.” The singer’s cheeks turned pink instantly. “I love when you call me that.” “Yeah,” he stole another kiss. “I know.” “Hey, give me one more! That was too fast!” So Murdoc smiled, wrapping his arms around the singer’s waist and pulling him in for a slower, deeper kiss. “It’s like the song goes,” Stu whispered, arms wrapping around the bassist’s shoulders. “I’m calling you back.” “But what came first, your grand plan to rebuild Kong, or Souk Eye?” They both laughed, giddy with the prospect of a fresh start, of more music. Of more time to learn to say the things they’d been feeling for many, many years.

[fly-pow-bye]

Powerpuff Girls 2016 - “Oh! Daisy!”

Written by: Haley Mancini

Written & Storyboarded by: Leticia Abreu Silva, John Martinez

Directed by: Nick Jennings, Bob Boyle

Shallow HAL.

This episode will continue Bubbles’ trait of computer programming. I'm honestly surprised they even kept this going for so long, since usually they depict Bubbles as this silly blonde that can't spell. So far, Bubbles has programmed:

A game that was super popular, at least among the students of Townsville Elementary. Also, she made some sort of machine that can send people to the internet with only tinfoil. Apparently, that's coding?

A robotic, 3D printed clone of herself that is perfect in every way except for security, and yet not important for her to even shed a tear when it got destroyed.

The third one that is going to be in this episode may not be as impressive as #2, but it's up there.

The episode starts out with Bubbles hanging out with the other participants of the school's coding club, including Barry. Maybe they were convinced he was this breakout character, considering how many times he appears in this reboot. He probably could be if he had a personality beyond "he wears an Illuminati shirt and yet never seems to talk about it". At least he has a name; I don't think the other two even have that.

Generic Girl: How many programmers does it take to screw in a lightbulb?

Bubbles: What?

Generic Girl: None, it's a hardware issue.

Barry laughs so hard that milk comes out of his nose, and they consider that just as funny as that joke. Suddenly, Buttercup barges into the door, and thinks this is some sort of fun times when she was supposed to be doing homework. It turns out, she was doing homework, and she gets to show off something she made to show off her true coding prowess.

...a robot assistant named Daisy. See, this flower's name a subtle reference to 2001: A Space Odyssey, something this reboot will not try to take advantage of in every minute of this character's existence.

Buttercup continues to accuse Bubbles of wrongdoing, possibly as a attempt to finally get Bubbles in trouble! Silly Buttercup, Bubbles can cause an entire zoo to cause mayhem around Townsville, and she'll still get off scot-free. She then tells Bubbles that she's going to be in trouble for putting this assistant all around the house. It's not like they're going to absolutely adore this thing.

They absolutely adore this thing! Blossom loves it because it reprograms other devices, as Blossom praises the device for reprogramming the Broomba to clean more efficiently. No, it didn't also give her a haircut, as much as Edna Mode would have appreciated it, that's just another case of the disappearing ponytail trick.

As for Sitcom Dad's reasoning. It scheduled the DVR to record all of the Sitcom Dad's favorite shows, like Sciencefeld! They managed to come up with a title for their Seinfeld parody, but do they do anything with it? Well, one thing: they reference the bass line used in its theme song.

That's really it.

Bubbles: Yeah, he's a scheduling wizard!

Oh, no, please don't say that word! It might attract...

Ah, too late. Schedulebot shows up to express his discontent with being replaced, and the Professor decides to completely ignore him by saying that this is the best robot ever. In one episode, he seemed to care more about Schedulebot's well being than the Powerpuff Girls, but now that this flower exists, he may as well not even exist to good ol' Sitcom Dad! This starts a subplot that nobody will care about, because it's a Schedulebot plot.

Of course, Buttercup can't be happy that her sister managed to make several robots that can make turkey dinner. The closest we get to an actual good reason is that he can't stop combing her hair, and the robot pronounces her name as "Bootercup", which the other think is just as much of a laugh riot as hardware issues and milk squirting out of people's noses.

A few minutes after midnight, Buttercup wakes up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. As she walks out, Daisy tells her not to forget to wash her hands. Then, not to forget to use soap. Then, not to use the guest towels. The absolute worst of them all, it dares to comb Buttercup's hair again! That seems to be a coding error; wouldn't Buttercup. Whatever the case, it does its job: annoying Buttercup.

Buttercup: (messes up own hair) Why don't I mess with your hair?!

Daisy: If you go to the main control room in the lab, you'll see that I have no hair, Bootercup.

Daisy also manages to get Buttercup to the lab to continue the plot, as there was no reason for him to even talk about the main control room.

It's a constant mention from me whenever this coding aspect of her character comes up: being a coding wizard would be extremely difficult if you cannot spell. Turns out, Bubbles' programming language of choice is something more akin to Scratch, a building block language that even the Reboot Puffs got involved in at one point. I guess that kind of explains that.

Buttercup decides to go through this code to change a few things, like turning off the alarm, lowering his moral percentage to -40%, and turning off his conscience. Buttercup does say she thought this word was "con science", but she already turned down the morals, and she clearly knew what she was doing then!

8.25 hours later, the girls wake up, and the windows suddenly shut with huge metal doors. Bubbles tries to fix everything by telling Daisy to open the windows. Everyone stand up and recite the line you're probably thinking he's going to say to that.

Daisy: I'm afraid I can't do that for you, Bubbles.

Okay, it's slightly different than the line from the movie, but anyone can get it. I would not be surprised if they took more inspiration from the Futurama episode that parodied it. At least they're not ripping off the original Powerpuff Girls this time; closest episode I can think of is Coupe D'etat.

Bubbles tries to go into the living room, only to be attacked by the Broomba. The Powerpuff Girls are truly unstoppable, unless there's glitter, markers, Roombas, ordinary rope, a dinosaur shouting at them, or rat tails. Who can possibly stop this robotic vacuum cleaner? Clearly it has to be the rascally...

...pink princess with an eye laser? Blossom then takes off her ribbon, ties it around her head, and tells her sisters to go into the hallway so she can finish the job. It's actually a genius plan from Blossom, as this gives a reason for her to be off-screen while she beats up the Broomba. As we all know, the Reboot Puffs can't fight anything on screen and win.

Throughout this episode, Blossom is the one that is resorting to violence and acting like an 80's action hero. This just seems way out of character for her, but I'm glad to have an episode that has a Reboot Puff other than Buttercup save her sisters.

They do have to explain what the Professor is doing during all of this, because there's no way he should be so oblivious to all of this. Turns out, he's stuck in the shower.

Daisy: Now lather.

Professor: Okay!

Daisy: Now rinse.

Professor: Okay!

Huh, a robot trapping a human in an infinite loop. One would think he would eventually use his brain to find out what's going on, but that brain would be very inconvenient to the plot, so this lather/rinse loop takes him out of the vast majority of the episode.

It turns out, Daisy is able to reprogram all of the devices in the Powerpuff household to rampage against them, including machines that simply shouldn’t be able to fight them, like the L-Cube! They decide to sneak around the house to avoid getting caught. Unfortunately, Bubbles just could not help it.

Bubbles: (farts in Buttercup’s face)

That all important character trait of having a flatulence problem shows up again, because why not? It seems like the only consistent character trait Bubbles has; whether she’s a maroon or a coding genius, farting is a free action for her. At least there’s somewhat of a point to this, as this allows Buttercup to walk backwards into the aforementioned L-Cube to get captured.

Blossom ends up saving her by using her eye lasers again. Buttercup’s not too happy, because the L-Cube was destroyed.

Blossom: Do you think this is a game?

Buttercup: Uh, yeah, that’s exactly what it was.

…ha.

Suddenly, Schedulebot manages to open the door, coming in with full Rambo gear. Guess he was busy getting all of that while he was locked out of the house. How did he get in the house, anyway? It would have made a lot more sense if he used that chainsaw to do it, as he doesn't seem to use it at all.

Granted, that's not the only weapon he brought: he also brought some grenades. Maybe he'll use them to sacrifice himself to save our girls from all of those evil house appliances, shouting to the girls to remember him...

...and that what actually happens! Finally, Schedulebot is destroyed! Though, so are a lot of household appliances that might not be cheap to replace, but they are never paid any mind. Speaking of never paying anything any mind, Blossom, in a rare bit of her not acting as a macho hero in this episode, she says that Schedulebot probably be fine. Yeah, I'm sure he will. They never explained how he got into the door, why not not explain how he survived this?

When they go into the lab, Daisy tells the girls that he has evolved. And...that's it. Not, "I evolved, and I'm going to take over the world", or "I evolved, and I'm going to make all gum taste like black licorice", or anything else. Sure, there's some vines growing out of what seems like a hole in the ground, but they just kind of stop any potential for a god-like computer here.

Blossom tells the girls that they must go "into the breach", as they slowly fly towards the computer monitor, and they instantly teleport into the computer world. Even Bubbles seems to be confused by this. No special equipment made out of tin toil or anything, Blossom just says "once again into the breach", flies up to the computer monster, and...

...boom, they're in a place that proves that the Virtual Boy would be just as eye searing if they went with green instead of red. It's possible that Daisy did this with his "evolved powers", but there's not much that indicates that this is against the Reboot Puff's will, and that's the only way this would have happened.

Another more likely guess is that it may have wanted to do this because he wanted to kill the Powerpuff Girls in the digital world. Daisy does find out that they sneaked in here, and hears all about Bubbles' plan to repair the code. He even says the most unexpected line, I completely lie.

Daisy: I can't let you do that, Bubbles.

Also technically not the line from the movie, even if it's how a lot of people remembered it. After saying this, the cutesy flower turns into a googly-eyed plant monster. This gives us a real on-screen monster fight that doesn't end with just a random zap of Blossom's eyes.

While Blossom is dealing with the giant plant, Buttercup, under the guidance of the coding wizard, has to reverse the mistakes she made the last night. This actually affects the fight scene, as this code wrangling continuously makes the monster weaker and stronger as Blossom tries to fight it. For example, she accidentally gives it missiles, which ends up firing at Blossom...to no effect? If only I could say the reboot was getting tired of the Monster Punch, Girls Down scenes.

Eventually, they find this star piece, which looked like any other piece until Buttercup picked it up. The same thing happens with the missile piece, actually. I have a feeling they intended to have all of these pieces have different images on them, but they forgot to actually draw them. Once she gets it onto the top, we see a huge flash of light.

Suddenly, pancakes. Yeah, everything just reverted back to normal, with Daisy making delicious flapjacks. Even better for Buttercup, Daisy even messes up Buttercup's hair without care and learned to pronounce her name correctly! Buttercup gets everything she wanted, and that means everything is alright.

Everything is peaceful, the Professor got the best shower of his life, and we have a robot buddy that is so useful, it would be just too incredible to see in future episodes. What can possibly bring this plot back to the status quo? Someone using a line I didn't expect to hear in a TV-Y7-FV show.

Schedulebot: Ha, 🚚🚚 you! (repeatedly bashes Daisy with a baseball bat)

According to the closed captions, he's saying "got you", but that was not what I heard. And I thought "damn it, Utonium" was good! Aside from that, I do question the perspective of this shot, which makes him look absolutely gigantic. Maybe he has the ability to absorb grenade explosions, see, no explanation for how he survived the grenade, or maybe it's just bad animation. Surely, it can not be the latter!

After Daisy gets its head batted in, we hear a funky bass line as the episode immediately cuts to black. I guess they realized that Sciencefeld joke never really had any kind of conclusion or point! I guess since Seinfeld was a show about nothing, Sciencefeld ups the ante by being literally nothing! How fitting.

Does the title fit?

The only thing the title reminds me of is Super Mario Land. But yes, it's a robot named Daisy, and it does things that could make one go "oh." It's just barely above the "name of the character" titles.

How does it stack up?

I get how the idea for this episode could lead to something interesting, but it never quite goes anywhere good. There are some okay ideas, especially at the end, but this is one of the "meh" episodes for me. Oh, well.

Next, the Powerpuff Girls eat ice cream. No, it’s not one of my gags, they really eat ice cream.

← The Gift ☆ Brain Freeze →

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