#and yet they handle it with enough sugar that it doesn't feel like the end of the world. i mean it does but it's also happy and joyous

[narfin-frood]

what you said in the tags of that post about struggling to keep the tone in check is so real. I have my own woy swap au and as tempting as it is to just straight into The Horrors tm or make it like, super edgy, it's not really what I want to do with it. For my own villain!Wander I wanted the tone to be like, oh its very silly and goofy and a bit surreal and cartoony and while it seems fine at first glance, there's an sort of undercurrent of like, a sense of wrongness or offness to the whole thing. Yknow what I mean? Like there's horrors, but it's subtle. Hope this ask makes sense lol.

oh yeah i'm real bad at keeping the tone in check. and your au seems really fun! it's hard not to get carried away when the temptation to make things as evil as possible is so strong. it's so fun to write!

[itmeansiris]

The Solar System Legacy Challenge: Allegations Gen 1 pt.92

CW: language

Kane came back to the table with two coffees in hand. He placed one down in front of Kason.

Det. Hana: Black. One sugar.

Kason picked up the cup and took a long drink, allowing the liquid caffeine to wake his senses. Kane chose the seat across from Kason, scraping the legs against the floor obnoxiously.

Det. Hana: Okay Gratz, start from the beginning.

Kason spent the next 40 minutes giving Hana a play-by-play of the moment he met Paris over a year ago, right up to the supermarket a few hours earlier. Hana stayed silent, sipping his coffee and scribbling notes in his pad. There were moments when Kason would notice Hana raise his eyebrows or some other reaction would involuntarily slip past his carefully constructed mask, before he would catch himself and indifference would settle over his features again. When Kason finished his recap Detective Hana dropped his pen and drummed his fingers on the tabletop before he answered.

Det. Hana: There’s something I find, enthralling, about your story. So Greg, your boss, turned a blind eye to Ms.Amyot’s harassment because of old debts or so you say, but that shouldn't have stopped you from calling the local authorities? The work place harassment would have been enough to report to the police, but when it extended to your home life a range of options opened up. Yet you, nor your wife filed a single complaint. Why?

Kason tried to disguise his sullen look as he leaned towards the arrogant detective trying to appear sturdy and intense, failing when he nearly knocked over the remnants of his coffee. He hurried through his explanation, but it sounded feeble even to his own ears.

Kason: I was dealing with her! When she started involving my wife I reported her to Greg. Mercury and I discussed making a formal complaint, but I was hesitant. Our triplets were just starting preschool, we had an infant and with Mercury’s celebrity status, I was concerned that would make her and the kids a bigger target. Mercury has maintained a reasonably private life here in Brindelton Bay, until Paris. She doesn't want the kids exposed to the media, its part of the reason we moved from the city, so we decided against filing the report. Paris never gave me reason to believe she would be anything more than an annoyance to my family until today.

Det. Hana: Handling her you say I'm sure you were. Well that was foolish and selfish.

He replied with a smirk his tone condescending. Kason however, couldn’t find the humor in the situation.

Kason: Did I miss the joke?

Hana's expression was borderline smug. Kason couldn't decided if Hana enjoyed making other people uncomfortable, or if he knew something Kason didn't.

Det. Hana: The only joke here is that excuse. Instead of worrying about your family's business being posted everywhere, you should have been concerned with keeping them safe. If what you say about Ms.Amyot is true, she displayed dangerous behaviors that you ignored, all to keep your wife's name out of the news. Your family already had a target on their backs, you were merely protecting them from the camera's. Well, after this incident your family's face will be all over Brindelton Bay. Though it seems to me like your wife, didn't get much say in how Ms.Amyot was "Handled" as you put it, yet she got the short end. So what did you truly accomplish?

Kason was stunned by Detective Hana's audacious question, but he'd asked himself the same things. What had he accomplished? What had he actively done to protect his family from Paris? Had it truly been Mercury's image that kept them from going to the police or had it been his own pride? Had his ego forced him to feel like he needed to deal with Paris on his own terms? Each question brought him back to the same conclusion: this was his fault, and he spiraled in silence. When Kason didn't respond Hana changed tactics.

Det. Hana: We had an opportunity to speak with Ms.Amyot. She has a very different recollection of your relationship. She claims you two started dating behind your wife’s back not long after she began working at Bay Robotics Engineering. Said you made it official when the two of you were sent on a business trip together. That was also when you disclosed to her that you were looking to get a divorce quote "She's an entitled brat and doesn't deserve anything she has."

Kason: You're kidding right?

Hana shook his head as his eyes dance with amusement.

Det. Hana: I'm not finished, Mr.Gratz. She also told us about a more recent conversation she claims you had. One about your wife's will. You see, Ms.Amyot isn't denying she attacked your wife, but she is adamant that the two of you planned this together.

Kason visibly blanched, the unexpected accusation was like a punch in the gut, leaving him speechless. Then his face contorted with rage as he uttered.

Kason: Are you suggesting, I helped Paris attempt to murder my wife?!

The smug grin returned to Hana's face, if he smiled any wider, he'd look identical to a Cheshire cat.

Det. Hana: I'm not suggesting anything. I'm just informing you of the allegations being made against you.

Kason: I don't fucking believe this, there's no way the police believe her.

Det. Hana: I personally wouldn't be so sure.

Kason: You bas-

He clamped his teeth down on his tongue, hard. The taste of copper quickly filled his mouth. He collected himself before grounding out his careful response through clenched teeth, his jaw felt as though it might break from the pressure.

Kason: Am. I. under. arrest?

Det. Hana: No, not at the moment. We have no evidence to substantiate any of the claims she's made against you. What we do know, is she attacked your wife and she knows she can't get out of that. So, maybe this is her attempt at trying to distract us with false claims. Or maybe there's some truth to what she's saying. Only time will tell, but take this as your formal warning not to leave Brindelton Bay.

Hana collected his things and pushed back his chair as Kason felt the effects of the caffeine abandon him. He leaned back in his seat, shoulders sagging forward, proof of the tremendous weight he was carrying.

Det. Hana: We have your statement and contact info. When we need something we'll be in touch. Let's go, Adler!

Kason took heed to the fact that he’d said “When” and not “if”. Hana stalked off while Officer Adler idled behind. When they first arrived Hana had call Adler his partner, but it was clear he was being used as more of a security guard. When Hana rounded the corner Adler finally spoke.

Ofc Adler: I'm sorry about Kane. He just made second grade detective, this is his first case as lead, but he's always been this way. His big mouth is going to get him in trouble one of these days. I'm certain he wasn't supposed to tell you any of that stuff according to what Sargent Gordon told us. We were supposed to gather your statement and leave. He won't be happy to hear that Kane's gone off script.

Kason: Sargent Gordon? Conrad Gordon?

Alder: Yeah, that's the Sarg. Do you know him?

Kason: Not well, but we've seen each other around. His son goes to the same elementary school as my kids and I’ve seen him at the Buttercup Pet Clinic his girlfriend is the owner. My wife will only allow Heather and her vet techs to see our cockapoo Comet.

Alder: Well that might make this a little easier. I'll see if I can get him to speak with you or at least suggest he assign someone else to the case. I don't like the way that Kane is handling this.

Before Kason could thank Adler, Kane reappeared.

Det. Hana: Alder, move your ass!

Ofc Adler: Damnit Kane, I'm coming!

As officer Adler left, Kason immediately regretted the way he’d treated him during their first encounter. Adler was clearly a good guy who was going out of his way to help. Kason also didn’t like the way that Hana spoke to Adler, like he was a pet to be commanded. He understood that rank was important in their world, but it shouldn’t outweigh benevolence.

Kason pushed asides thoughts of Adler, allowing his brain to focus solely on the conversation with Hana. Paris had tried to make him out to be her accomplice. The fact that the pretty boy detective; who was clearly on a power trip, seemed to be entertaining her claims, made it worse. This was her grand scheme. She had attacked Mercury and the kids and now she would try to have him charged with aiding and abetting her in an assault against his family. As the magnitude of the accusation sunk in a doctor called out from the waiting area.

Doctor: Family of Mercury Gratz?

Previous Next

Beginning

Sidebar: Thank you @abbysimsfun for allowing me to include the Nesbitt-Gordon family. We talked about it sooo long ago, when I first had the thought for this installment of the story. I didn’t know how I was going to introduce them, but you gave me a clear opening with your more recent post. Thank you for writing and sharing your amazing sims with me!

[semper-legens]

8. The Colossus of Rhodes, by Caroline Lawrence

Owned: Yes Page count: 194 My summary: The children are on the case. Children have been going missing from Ostia, probably sold as slaves in Greece, and they set sail to find them. But there’s danger in the air. Things keep going wrong on the ship - and Lupus has another motive. His mother is still alive, still out there somewhere. And he’s going to find her, no matter what. My rating: 4/5

Back to Roman Mysteries, and we're entering what, for me, is sort of a slump era. These are the books I reread far less than the others; I don't remember there being a particular reason for that, just that they weren't the ones I was interested in over the others. That's not to say that they weren't interesting, just that for whatever reason my ten year old self didn't obsess over these ones quite as much as others. Anyway, I'm overexplaining something that probably didn't need to be explained. This is a good reflection of the stakes being a lot higher in these books - not just content with helping freeborn children who were kidnapped into slavery, the kids are now actively seeking the people behind this slavery ring and looking to bring them to justice. Too bad there's others looking to get in their way…

Lupus is our focal character this time - not only is the newly-christened Delphina his ship, but he's looking out for his mother. He was told that she was alive and safe, and wanted to return to her and his home island of Symi. Unfortunately, she made a pledge to Apollo that, if Lupus was alive and safe, she'd give her life to him - and Lupus has just missed her. It ratchets up the drama, in admittedly a soap opera way, but I like that Lupus is acting like a pretty realistic kid here. He's singlemindedly devoted to finding his mother, unable to just wait a few days so that they can investigate the missing kids first, and ends up delaying the journey a few days because of his reckless behaviour. It isn't bad that Lupus wanted to keep searching for his mother, of course, but the reality of the situation is made very clear and there's consequences to his actions, which is a pretty mature way of handling this character journey for the audience. It's hard not to feel for poor Lupus here. Kid's had a hard enough life, and he's not even ten yet.

A new character enters in this book - Gaius Valerius Flaccus, whose significance is not yet apparent, but who (spoilers!) will end up marrying Flavia. He's about eighteen or nineteen, which to my child's mind on a first read was practically an adult, but to my almost-thirty year old mind now is just a baby. He's arrogant, in the way of rich teenagers, but gets humbled in the course of the narrative somewhat and actually proves to be useful for the investigation. He doesn't come off particularly well in this book, though. Part of that is Flavia's automatic dislike of him that leads to her suspecting him of wrongdoing and shunning him when they come into contact, part of that is the fact that he does come off as a rich kid with pretensions beyond his limited ability, though he does mellow a little bit by the end of the story. I have a vague liking for Flaccus, though on re-evaluation I don't know why - he's actually alright here, but a few books down the line, he's…less so.

But this book is once again about slavery, and I always admire how this series treats the idea of slavery - it doesn't sugar-coat it, and it provides a slightly more nuanced view of how slavery was in Ancient Rome. Nubia finds herself experiencing flashbacks on the Delphina, because the ship used to be the slave-ship Vespa that took her from her home to Rome. The fates of enslaved children are brutally laid out - children made to weave and discarded when they are blinded by the work, other children (the pretty ones) being taken away to unexplained but subtextually awful fates for anyone with the knowledge of what that implies. There's another horrible subtext with the boy Flaccus is enslaving, Zetes - one of the antagonists references that Zetes' highborn father would be angry with how Flaccus has been 'using' him, Zetes is described as being very beautiful, and Flaccus despite not being shown to physically punish Zetes is abjectly horrified to learn of Zetes' high birth…reading between the lines paints a very ugly picture that likely would go over the heads of kids who don't know about sex and sexual abuse, but are still there for the older reader in the know.

This is less about this book specifically and more about the series generally, but I think Roman Mysteries does a good job overall at portraying that, even for the enslaved people in better situations, slavery is still slavery. Flavia treats Nubia as a friend, but we see in Pirates of Pompeii that she could just as easily mistreat Nubia - the freedoms Nubia has can be taken away from her so easily. The kids don't seem to care that much about non-freeborn children being enslaved, but the lot of Leta in that same book shows that abuse was rampant, and the murder of orphans and enslaved girls in the arena Gladiator from Capua is treated as horrifically as it should be. Later in the series, Nubia is almost tortured for Flavia's oversight when freeing her, showing that the Roman legal system was brutal to those they enslaved, and the point is made in Pirates that runaway slaves would be crucified. And Sisyphus, despite having a pretty good life, still has the happy ending of being freed in a later book, showing that even a person who is well-treated longs for and deserves to be legally free. The books encourage the reader to have empathy for the victims of slavery while showing the characters have period-appropriate biases, and I think that's a good nuance to have, particularly for this audience.

Next, more research, and the history of the Caribbean.

[jasper-crow]

I think some of y'all missed the apple butter update, but that did end up going well 💙

Guess I'll drop the recipe as a way of an bonus

Oh and if any of these sorts of posts interest you I've got them all tagged under #lesbian island life on my profile.

Ingredients:

13.5 pounds peeled and cored apples from wherever, the more wasps you have to fight for them the better.

6 and 1/8th cups sugar. No I didn't use a measuring cup for the 1/8th, I'm just guessing the extra I tossed in.

Spices of your choice, I used: cloves, nutmeg, allspice, juniper berry, cinnamon, and cardamom

Like idk, 4-6 cups of water? It's to make it easier to boil down before blending, but honestly you gotta boil most of it off anyways so 🤷‍♀️ your milage may vary.

You should probably can this stuff, I filled up 14 pint jars. If you haven't canned before just get the damn things at the store (the big ones that say Ball on the side) and drop them into boiling water for 15-20 minutes. It'll be fine, it's not hard.

Steps:

Get someone else to peel and core the apples. Or spend 3-4 hours of your own time doing it as inefficiencently as possible with a hand peeler and chopping out the cores with a knife.

Think to yourself "Well all these peels are cores are such a waste to throw out!"

Go make apple cider on the side.

Dice up apples

Realize that 13.5 pounds of apples is a lot of fucking apples and you've filled your 1.5 gallon stock pot.

Split some of them off for now into anything else you have to hand

Add water to pot and stick it on your hottest burner and hope for the best

Once again curse your lack of gas stove but understand that your mortal nemesis the electric stove is better for the environment. Pout about this as the water starts to boil

Measure out sugar, use coconut sugar for first cup and a half because it was in your pantry and you figure it'll taste good.

Clean out wife's coffee grinder so you may once again commandeer it for spice grinding

Add whole cloves, cardamom pods, allspice berries, juniper berries, and the little fragments of cinnamon stick you have left to the grinder along with a whole nutmeg... Berry? Nut? Idk a whole nutmeg thing.

Realize after grinding that the nutmeg isn't breading down

Bust it with mortal and pestle

Read and find it's suppose to be gratted. Huh

Put pieces back in grinder, mom didn't raise a quiter. Also add more cinnamon because there isn't enough.

Realize apples are starting to break down, add in remaining apples. Feel very self satisfied with how this is going.

Remember you haven't eaten since 8am and it is now 4:30pm

Make a burger and eat it.

Grab trusty potato masher and start to try and destroy apples.

Curse your potato masher for it's sudden yet inevitable betrayal as it separates from it's terrible plastic handle and disappears into a sea of bubbling apple mash.

Decide you have a better solution to this whole affair and get out your second stock pot. In small batches use a large ladle to move apple mash into blender, blend till smooth, then pour apple slurry into large stock pot.

Marvel upon your newly smoothed apple sauce and think to yourself "I should probably get an immersion blender"

Add in spices and sugar, mix well by stirring.

Turn heat up till you can get a light boil going, then turn heat down to low-medium (like a 2-3 out of 10) and let the whole mixture start to bubble.

You should probably stir this so it doesn't burn. But I didn't 🤷‍♀️ so idk maybe don't trust me 😅

Get frustrated after about an hour of this when you can tell if it's thick enough yet. Turn heat up slightly and stir aggressively, worried about burning.

Have mixture bubble like a cauldron and splash molten apple liquid onto your hand, handle this as needed.

Notice none of it is burning and slap a lid halfway onto it and turn down the heat back to that low-medium.

Play roughly 3 hours of Fire Emblem: Radiant Dawn. Interupted halfway through by your wife jamming her packer down your throat. Enjoy that greatly.

Finally remember that you were cooking, go check on it. Find it to be a beautiful caramel brown color. Can it all, wipe down cans, place on lids, put in water bath, gtf to sleep.

And that's about it. Hope any of you like this or care, but I'm happy to have it work out anyways 💙

Alright y'all, that took way way way too long. But many interruptions, a shower, cleaning the kitchen again, and an hour of my very tiny canning setup later; they are all done!

Look how thick and delicious the apple butter looked when it was all done! I had like a gallon and a half of this liquid gold 🤤

Filling the cans and running my terrible water bath setup was fun as per usual. I really should buy a funnel and a proper canner 😅

But and the end of all of it I've got 14 pint jars of the stuff ready to go! Now to just leave them overnight to cool off and into the pantry they go!

And only another 2 baskets of apples from the first tree and then 4 more trees to go! I'm gonna have to start getting some of these traded out for stuff, I've got far far too many apples!

[luveline]

James and the reader baking <333

thank u for ur request! hope this is okay <3 fluffy James is <333

"James," you say, pressing your palms to your eyes to abate an overwhelming wave of defeat.

"What?" he asks, pulling at your fingers until you let your hands fall away. There's icing sugar all over his face, stars dotted in wild constellations over his warm skin. "What's the prob?"

"The prob," you say weakly, "is that I specifically chose this because it was marketed as the easiest sweets to make, and yet. A palava!"

"A palava!" he repeats, delighted at your word choice.

It is a palava. There's icing sugar everywhere, not just his face, a white ring of it burning on the glass stove top, a cloud of it settled over your clothes, and no matter how much you whisk the fudge you're attempting to make on the hob, it won't dissolve.

"We sieved it like the instructions said," you bemoan, picking the whisk up to try again. You break the fresh skin formed over the top of the fudge and turn up the heat.

"Are you sure that's a good idea, babe? We don't want to burn it."

"I don't think it's hot enough," you say. "Doesn't it look too thick to you?"

He hums and leans back against the countertops, hand dipping in a patch of white sugar and chocolate dust. He doesn't notice or doesn't care, but you're betting it's the former.

"Won't you relax?" he implores you gently, reaching out to straighten your shirt collar. You look down at the white fingerprints he leaves behind and feel the opposite of relaxed. He smiles impishly.

"Jamie, this isn't going well for us."

"I know, bub. We'll just have to try again."

You sigh deeply and try to be less tense, pressing your face to your shoulder. You roll your neck and James winces when it clicks.

"Why do we do stuff like this?" you whine, and then feel bad immediately. "Just, not that I don't love doing things with you, Jamie, but I'm so awful. At everything."

"You're not awful at everything, angel. Where'd you get that idea? You're amazing, and one lumpy fudge doesn't dispute that," he tells you, eyebrows pinched in concern.

Your eyes flutter closed as he runs the back of his hand, thankfully clean, down the side of your face. He quickly leans forward to press a chaste kiss against the skin where his hand had been, working the whisk and saucepan handle from your white-knuckled grip. He turns the heat off and sets the pan on a cool hob.

"Baking isn't easy. It's a practiced craft, okay? We're not gonna be good straight away."

You smile at him softly. "I know, James. Sorry. I'm being melodramatic."

He smooths his hands over your shoulders, smiling indulgently.

"You're not dramatic, often. Much. At all. And-" he starts, seeing your accusing expression, "if you are, you're not nearly as dramatic as me."

You drop your head into his chest and twine your fingers in the ends of his shirt. "Bah."

"Fudge is supposed to be thick. So we got that part right," he whispers into your hair.

"And lumpy?" you inquire.

He generously doesn't comment. You groan, sound muffled by his skin.

"Just because you're not good at something the first time doesn't mean you never will be," he says.

"Practice makes perfect," you parrot, a phrase he's told you a hundred times.

"Practice must've made you, then," he murmurs, rubbing your shoulders.

You smile into his chest, best pleased by his flirtation until you still. "James, are you wiping your hands in my shirt?"

"...No."

"Alright, get off me."

[planettnibiruu]

OKAY SO- In honor of Christmas, I present (haha) to you.... *drum roll* .....what our dav demon men would get you dor Xmas :))

Lucifer

Okay, so he spends wayyy to much time thinking about it. He's the avatar of pride, it needs to be *perfect*. He comes up with a few ideas; purfume/cologne, jewellery, an expensive coat, then he settles. A metallic black Inc ballpoint pen engraved with his initial. It's delicate yet heavy, sitting nicely in your hand, the Inc flows smoothly and doesn't smudge. He figures its the perfect way to let others know that you're his, and you'll use it every day, a perfect 2 for 1.

Mammon

So we all know this man has no money, but jokes on you he's planned this for months. He gets a job at hells kitchen, slaving away, working day in and day out. Once he finally saves up the cash, he feels like the happist man in the world. He buys you a necklace, a simple gold chain with a letter "M" dangling from it. But, here's the kicker, man paid almost 700 Grimm for that pretty baby. The chain itself is 18k gold, and the little pendant, well that's a 9k gold. We all know he's possessive, so the idea of you, his human, wearing his initial, WHOOWEE BABY. It's enough to make him be slightly less possessive and jealous.... for about an hour

Levi

Levi spends alot of time debating what to get you, he even thinks of not getting you anything because "No way someone like them would want a gift from an otaku nerd like him." He mills over it day in day out, so much so he can't even enjoy the new rui-chan Christmas special!! Then, the perfect idea comes to him, your own personalised game controller. It's your favourite colour, with grip pads on the underneath of the handle things. The buttons make a nice clicky noise and the battery life lasts days. It's even got your name engraved on the front and it lights up along with the colour scheme.

Satan

Not gonna lie, he planned this out for months. Eversince you formed your pacts he started on it. At first it was something personal, a way of expressing his feelings in a safe and controlled way. Then, he got carried away. Satan presents you with a leather bound, home made book. In golden ink a portrait very similar to how you look is drawn, singed underneath by Satan's. He's written a whole book about for you. It's a murder mystery, of course, in which the two protagonists, who are oddly similar to you and Satan, solve the biggest crime in history while falling in love. At the end of the book the protagonists live in a small apartment with 4 cats and book shelves that go floor to ceiling, wall to wall.

Asmo

Okay, he buys your gift more on impulse then anything else. He and Solomon were out shopping, looking at clothes, jewellery make-up, you name it. But as the sleep deprived checkout chick is scanning thier items Asmo spots the perfect gift. It's a set of purfumes, one slightly more masculine with a woody undertone while the other is more feminine with a hint if brown sugar. As soon as he spots the bottles he knows that you two are ment to have it. Upon unwrapping it, he tells you to choose the one you like best, and then he'll wear the other. What you don't know is a the real reason Asmo loves the gift he got you so much is that you can always take off a ring or necklace, but you can't take of a smell that matches his perfectly.

Beel

Beel knows he's not the best with expressing his emotions verbally. And due to this factz and his constant nightmares he keeps a journal. Everything's written in there, his passing thoughts, bad scribbles of his brothers and you, big blocks of text, everything. Beel doesn't quiet know when, but about a quarter into the journal the pages start to be filled with your name. It starts off slow, "The new transfer student came. They're

Belphie

He doesn't realise it's Christmas until its too late. He's got about a week to get a present, so he buys the first thing he can think of. He gets you a carved silver ring, it's engraved as a chain, symbolising he's 'chained' to you. Although the gift is stereotypical, there's so much thought and symbolization around it that you don't care. The ring is pure silver so you never have to take it off, and if you do belphie will bite your finger so there's a mark until you put it back on.

[littledead-ridinghood]

Wait can you please post a link to starrboy's fic? I can't find it and I love Jason + lanterns <33

waiting for it, that green light series by starrboy

so this series has been put on indefinite hiatus(and every day I selfishly pray our lovely author once more gathers inspo, but that's neither here nor there and completely their choice), but it starts out with Jason dealing with phantom pains from the Batarang wound a la UtRH and Guy Gardner finding him, taking him in for the night and then, well, Jason just...never leaves and Guy never asks him too. Over time he befriends the other four corpsmen and gets adopted into their posse. I really like how all the lanterns give Jason a chance at face value, of which Jason returns, and then it works out so easily with them all accepting each other. There's no real conflict except subtle underlying their collective issues when it comes to dealing with other bats(Disrespect, disregard, Batarang scar, etc). It's really cute and fluffy, with good mom!Talia, JayKyle, and HalGuy, while also just being an easy feel-good read. This series is like my version of that fandom fav trope: "Bruce hugged Jason during that showdown, so now Jason understands how much Bruce loves him and everything and everyone is happy and fine". This is my sugar & honey-sweet comfort series. It's domestic and it's Lovely. Guy and Jason's friendship have me frothing at the mouth, and them bonding over shared experiences with shitty fathers and other factors of life bring me overwhelming joy

---you've probably read these next fics as you're also a lanterns + Jay lover, but for others: here are some more series recs!---

Star Sapphire Jason series by Do_not_careissa

starrboy actually wrote in their notes/comments that they pulled inspo from this series and what made them fall in love with lanterns+ jay content! Personally, I love me some jay content that doesn't devolve into "he's the angry, stupid, jocky one :/" and this series does it amazingly! This series is about Jason's growing anxiety about his spot in the family, feeling like he'll never be able to live up to the high expectations they hold for him nor being able to recover his lost connections due to his death and messy resurrection. Though worried over where he stands within the Bats, Jason still continues to work for his recognition and makes sure his family stays safe. The series purposefully states that Jason's anger stems from his love and compassion for others and that's what earns him a star sapphire ring AHHH perfection. Jason struggles with his own self-worth, value as a person, and how he's in over his own head while still depicting Jason as capable, smart, and willful. It walks the line of Jason being a sensitive young man who usually leads with his emotions and not always being able to handle them, but also not woobifing him to hell and back fantastically. I love the friendships formed, Jason's road to healing(his self-worth and is finally being told, after years of "you're too emotional, and need to shut them out more", that it's okay & good to feel and express his feelings) by being surrounded by people who appreciate his company, and also focusing on the side-effects of Jason disappearing off the face of the planet as well as other characters relationships to each other(not just to Jason). This series has JayKyle & HalGuy(all stupidly failing at romancing their other and pinning horribly obviously), Star-Sapphire-who's-eager-to-learn&grow!Jason, Bats trying to work through their issues, and the lanterns taking in Jason as one of their own(including Dad!Hal!). Still marked as incomplete and has yet to update since the end of Nov. 2020, if those kinds of things put you off, but there are 14 parts, and, like, I can not stress this enough, It's so good! I just can't get over the friendship between A. the lanterns between each other and B. the lanterns with Jason!

Emergency Line series by crucifixinhell

Brand new series, so far with only 2-parts, and it's about the friendship between Hal and Jason. Very cute. Angsty as well because, well, we all know what happens to robin!Jason :/. Written within Hal's POV and is snippets of Jason talking to him about his day, asking for help, etc. as Hal reflects on similarities between him and Jay while appreciating his companionship all within part one. This leads into part two where Hal reflects on how he was probably Jason's safe space (in the way that an English teacher is for many) as he struggles to deal with the death of Jason, how it affects him and his relationship with others(primarily Bruce). It's really nice to read about robin!Jason having someone to reach out to, especially because, in his run, Jason was so isolated from the hero community due to Bruce's need to keep him close(and not run off with friends like Dick to form a new superhero team which...I mean...mission failed successfully, I guess, B-man). Hal and Jason's friendship is really cute, and, as it's in Hal's POV, we don't realize how much the relationship affected both of them until the realizations start to fall into place *After* Jason's death. The author says they plan to write more for this series once they figure out where they want it to go, but if they don't, they've started to write other Hal & Jason works which are really good as well

It's Just Paint... Right? series by Jane0Doe

In this series, Jason is secretly a blue lantern and hiding his ring from the other Bats as not wanting to deal with the backlash and negative connotations they already have with lanterns. This three-part-and-in-progress series has Kyle-in-denial about how hot he thinks Jason is he feels with Jason now hanging around with him and the other corpsmen. This is what I read for my angsty, yet more than decently self-indulgent, pleasures with incredibly-bad-dad!Bruce. Some would say he's OOC, I would say "read it with feeling because sometimes bruce Sucks Ass and I Don't Care About Nuance because Jason's my baby and I'm using him to work through something right now, and if that includes him running off to space to refind a found family then so be it." the entire series is only about 3,550 words, so it's a quick read, but it gives me my much needed Jason whump with a side of lanterns and Jason friendship

Of course, there are a handful of other lantern+Jay fics, ones that I very much enjoy or can't wait to read(Glowsticks and Bullet Holes, I'm looking at you. You've been in my tabs for weeks(months, actually shhhh), and I can't wait till my brain finally kicks and reads you), but these series definitely help feed me and my happy little lantern lover/Jason lover heart

[harryswatermelonsegment]

Fire For You

Pairing: Reader/Harry Styles,Harry Styles/Omc x2

Rating : Strong R 100% porn w/o plot tbh

Warnings: *cracks knuckles* orgies,sex parties, anal sex, male oral sex, female oral sex, anal play, sub!dom play, drug use, vaginal penetration, squirting

A/N: Look, never posted fic. And I haven't checked anything 😳 Due to the heavily noted anon prompt fluttering around my dash that read: "My friend went to some weirdo eyes wide shut kind of party in the Hollywood Hills last year and overheard 'yeah you can't use that room, Harry Styles is high as fuck and getting railed by some dudes in there" plus that damn 🍉 video... well, I am at peak feral in quarantine and 3k of smut just popped right out. Title actually the Cannons song cos it's such a sex song innit? I'm doing this at 4.20am after starting this at 11pm my time so..good fucking night. ✌🏻🍉

—--------------------------------------------

You were petrified. 

You'd moved halfway across the world with your best friend after a shitty person broke your heart and your spirits. 

A circumstantial opportunity had arisen to become her PA,after her chance audition for a series had turned into cult viewing overnight.

She was everything you weren't. Confident, effortlessly cool and entirely comfortable in her own skin and sexuality. That's why, as she sauntered away with a tuxedo clad tall stranger, you stood frozen on the spot trying to remember it was okay to watch. 

It had been her idea for you to submit an application after you'd said you needed to take risks and feel good in your skin again. Your best friend had told you you were wasting your youth, after years wasted on the ex you were in this country trying to forget. That you should embrace you were young, hot, single and getting older by the second. So you'd rolled your eyes and submitted your video application. You wouldn't get a reply for such an elite thing. 

And yet, here you now were, in a millionaires mansion watching two men fuck a bunny masked stranger infront of you. She looks up at you through the velveteen eye holes and offers you to join with her finger come hithering you over. Your eyes widen. 

You immediately remember your stiff upper lip and bound up the right hand staircase as fast as your heels will allow. Hoping to find a cool place to catch your breath. 

Maybe you weren't as free spirited as you were in your head. Open to trying things theoretically, but now, as you see a flurry of naked bodies out of your peripheral vision and hear sounds you'd only heard in more private settings, you felt quite overwhelmed. 

You were no virgin but not to say you could count on two hands your conquests past kissing either. 

You came to the one shut door at the end of the long hallway, assuming it was a bathroom. Heels clicking against the pristine marble floor below as you approached. You put your hand to the cold metal handle, if you weren't prepared to see strangers fuck, you certainly weren't prepared for this. 

There were five people in the room. 

Three men on the bed and two women. The first woman sat open thighed across a low backed plush chair. Another on all fours on the floor licking into the others cunt as one guy stuck his fingers into her own folds from behind. He was then, with the rest of his olive skinned built body, sharply thrusting into the man on the bed at such a pace you could hear his balls slap against the sweat glistening flesh. He held his hip nearest to you so tightly, you could see the red marks appear from under his large hands. 

The slender man receiving all this action was being silenced in his pleasure by the guy kneeling up in front of him. He hummed loudly through his nose as his mouth was busy bobbing up and down the guys length. Eyes closed in the orange low light as he was thrust into still, with such force he deep throated the guy he was swallowing down. He suddenly gagged and the man moaned then pulled his head away and nodded to signal if he was okay to continue, he agreed then he got right back down to business. 

It was probably one of the more explicit scenes she'd seen. Making her feel hot and cold all at once. Not because of what was happening, no, it was who it was. 

His face was disguised by a navy blue, high winged, theatrical mask. As were those involved, or some variation at least. 

You heard a voice beside you at the door frame. A deep voice talking to a white bunny beside him

"Nah, that rooms got enough going on, Harry Styles is high as fuck getting railed by two dudes" 

And that's all the confirmation you damn well needed. You'd been in L.A three weeks. Three weeks was all it had taken for you to be stood watching Harry fucking Styles getting Eiffel towered by two guys in the Hollywood Hills whilst you watched, mouth agape in barely any underwear. 

No one had seemed to notice your intrusion, if the screaming of the red head  in the chair reaching her climax was anything to go by. She rode out her high on the blondes face before getting up, lighting a joint and pulling the blonde up by roots. No real concern that she hadn't climaxed from Mr. Powerthrusts fingers yet. Dragging the young white cat back towards the door with a glistening mouth and chin, you were still entranced at the boy on the bed pooling your sheer briefs and the sight before you. 

The redhead looked at you, to where your focus was on, then back to you. Giving one condescending chuckle. Still with the small blonde girls hair in a vice hold she spoke roughly into your ear as she passed. 

"He's soft and ready to go sugar, strike whilst he's still loose" with that, she kisses your cheek and her Loboutins clicked away from you. 

You stood there. Tits up to your chin from the force of the practically sheer black bra you were spilling out of, the suspender belt grasped your hourglass shape perfectly too. There was delicate, black designer underwear framed by the belt and thigh high stockings. You'd felt beyond confident at the beginning of the party. New eyes dragging over you in a way they didn't when you were in your regular get up of jeans and a t shirt. But behind the Japanese type kitsune half mask, you had felt invincible.

Right up until the point people actually started fucking. 

But this, this was different. 

You'd never been into guy on guy action, not even in porn. It didn't ignite any fire inside the pit of your stomach like it should. But seeing someone you'd casually ogled through the media like the other few million in the world had, well the chances of being in this position again were rare. Suddenly, the thrill of being able to possibly turn dream into reality spurred you on. He'd never know it was ever you if you met again right? 

The three of them were still going at it. Powerthruster behind, contorting his face as he placed smack after smack across the pale flesh of Harry's ass. Grabbing a fistful in each hand as he sped up even more to reach his climax, he cried out when he did pulling Harry's hips flush against his own, it was only now, amongst all the activity that you notice Harry's cock for the first time. 

The rumours online highly underestimate it. 

He's long and thick and his drippy head is causing a string of pre cum to trail from its opening onto the white silk sheets below. 

You clamp a hand between your thighs, the first time you feel your inhibitions falter that night. You had to relieve some of the friction your body needs. Watching the man remove himself, and toss the condom in the bin by the door frame you were still fixed to. 

Harry scrambles to the other muscular guy infront of him, kneeling back on his calves, hissing a little as his legs under each cheek spread his already tender hole a bit. He doesn't miss a beat though, the already close to orgasming guy looking down at green doe eyes as he pushes Harry's mouth from him. Harry knows where this is leading and opens his mouth for him spill his seed onto his waiting tongue. 

By this point you'd moved quietly from the door and across the wall so you were in prime position to watch Harry swallow all this man's cum whilst you just stood watching. 

Feeling like a pervert, feeling turned on, feeling fucking everything to be frank. You'd question it later. Right now you needed Harry to touch you. 

One leg kicked up behind you so you could slightly part your thighs and rub your middle finger down your folds beneath your knickers. You began to put on a show. The other hand is inside your bra cupping and squeezing your nipple between your index and forefinger sharply. Panting quietly as you see Harry's eye clock you in his peripheral vision. You're terrified of his reaction for a second before remembering the setting of the evening, but he smirks the best he can do with an open mouth and looks you up and down slowly. His dick twitches in his lap and that's all it takes for you to start rubbing two soaked fingers fast against your clit, your ego inflated that you could be the cause of his heightened arousal. You're going at such a pace on yourself that you almost don't catch the ropes of cum descending into Harry's mouth as he watches you trying to get the release his actions have caused. The guy stills, spent. Harry is still watching you pant faster as you take the hand on your breast away to steady a palm against the wall. He holds the guys cum in his mouth before tearing his eyes away from yours to kneel up and place an opened mouthed kiss onto the guys lips, transferring him back into his own mouth, forcefully. Switching the dominant role back in his favour to show you who was really in control in the room despite how it may have looked. He breaks the kiss, both men chuckle at each other before Harry taps the other guys cheek with his palm playfully. Like his just scored a goal at the Sunday football league, but definitely not like they'd both shared a mouthful of semen. 

Your pace has slowed down slightly but you see him whisper something into the man's ear before he hops off the bed, grabbing only his black briefs and closing the door behind him. But not before saying "have fun" to you with a knowing wink. 

It suddenly feels very intimate. When there were a few more people in the room it felt easier to blend into the festivities, but now you were essentially alone with a stranger who was watching the slow movements of your hands in your underwear. You decided to carry on, to keep up the pretence that this is the sort of thing you do all the time of course. 

It wasn't. 

So when he stands straight up off the bed, taking the few steps towards you, slightly pouting into the air as he keeps his eyes locked on yours and gently grabs your wrist that leads to the hand on your pussy  bringing the two digits that had been furiously rubbing your clit, up to his mouth. He never breaks his gaze as he sucks them fully, with the same technique you'd just seen on that man's dick minutes previous. Closing his eyes and humming approvingly at your sweet taste. 

Your insides are screaming but your present body moans and he drops the hand to grab your waist and pull you tight to his torso. He kisses you hungrily and you taste mostly of yourself and try not to think about the other taste from the strangers cum on your tongue. 

He kisses you like he's getting to know you through this alone, grazing his palms from your waist to your shoulder blades then back down slowly to your ass, gripping it tightly to his body as he hooks a thigh over his hip. His cock is sandwiched between you, droplets of pre cum on both your bellies. The crotch of your underwear is rubbing his length slightly as you rock your hips down onto his. 

His tongue is lapping and swirling languidly against yours, it's unexpected given the setting but, it's fucking glorious. You grab fistfuls of curls at the back of his head between your fingers and once you get to the nape and give a sharp tug on the baby hair there, his breathing hitches. 

"You're quite good at this" he says casually,taking a breath. You pant in response and chuckle slightly. Mostly at the contrast of moods he appears to have. 

"Not s'bad yourself" you smile. 

There's a heartbeat whilst he takes in your accent similar to his own he pulls back, brows furrowed causing his forehead to wrinkle down slightly at the top of the blue mask. This isn't the time to get to know one another though, you get that, and despite your reservations on this place you suddenly don't give a shit. You push your mouth into his neck suckling lightly and finding a sweet spot at his pulse that has him shaking. His nimble pianist fingers undo the flimsy material of your bra as he goes back to the weirdly passionate make out session, you let it fall off your shoulders, shaking it down your arms to the ground. 

He walks you both back to the bed and sits down pulling you to straddle his thighs. You both moan at the reconnection and don't miss a beat rolling your hips over his slowly. Giving him a taste of what's to come. He grunts through his teeth out of frustration, pulling away from you both once more to reach blindly for the fishbowl of condoms, provided by the host, on the nightstand. 

"Fucked anyone else tonight?" he asks matter of factly. 

Your eyes looked shocked, even though they probably shouldn't be. You furiously shake your head. 

"Hm" he chuckles as you lay your hands in your lap submissively, he clearly notices and you see an eyebrow raise over the mask. "that mean you're a good girl?" 

Cottoning on to the game he's starting, and that you're more than willing to take part in, you take one side of your bottom lip between your teeth and nod quickly. 

This is an absolute fantasy. But you're aware you could get interrupted at any moment so you'll take what you can get before being pushed out, and no doubt off, this absolute wet dream of a man. 

He tears the packet open with his fingers, sitting back, a little hunched over to roll the rubber down his length. He hisses at the brief contact after being edged so much the last hour or so. You start to wonder how he's keeping up his stamina before he sits back up, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger and interrupts. 

"Gonna be a good girl f'me then love?" he leans forward places wet opened mouth kisses at each of your breasts in between his words, looking you straight in the eye. "Gonna slip those pants to the side and get on me then?" 

No sooner had he spoke, you were grabbing his cock in your palm with one hand, and pulling the crotch of your soaked fabric to one side with the other. You hadn't done this in a fair few months and definitely never taken a cock as big as his, but your arousal was so high that you were desperate for the sweet pain of being stretched around him. You pumped him barely as to not roll up the condom, just grazing him and feeling him twitch in your fist as he watched you briefly stick two fingers into your cunt. The wetness being heard as you opened your mouth and gasped at the sensation. You didn't want to waste anymore time checking you were prepared so you scooted forwards on his lap. Brushing his swollen head against your clit, before tapping it a few time as you sunk down onto his length. It burned so good as you got to about halfway before lifting yourself up and sinking down again further. It took three times of doing that to be completely seated and drowning his cock in your juices as your pelvises locked together. You both took a second to pant out curses against each others necks. 

"Jesusfuck. You're so fuckin' tight. Can you move? Fuck! Please move" he strained into your throat. 

You sat back a bit so you were facing one another and with fingers pulling at those nape hairs you reconnected your mouths before rolling your hips experimentally against his. 

"Oh fuuuuck" you shot out, the feeling of him so deep inside you and him pressing against your clit was other worldly. The friction of the underwear you still had on, gathered between your folds and caused the sweetest friction. He grunted once as your jaw lay slack at the contact, before getting impatient and guiding your hips to slam into him harder as he thrust up at the same time. 

Your head was spinning. 

His strong hands pulled you close to him he smeared your lips together as he flipped you so he was on top, manoeuvring you up the bed and slightly diagonal so his feet didn't dangle off the edge. 

It became a power battle then. You knew he was on the edge and holding back. He pulled a leg to hitch around his waist and thrust into you at speed. Enough to leave you sore tomorrow. You smirked into his mouth, pulling both up further to lock behind his neck, knowing the angle would make it so much tighter and so much easier to reach that sweet spot inside you. With your head thrown back at the new angle he began leaving marks around your neck and breasts, trying so hard not to cum before you. 

Then you had a brilliant, foolproof idea of how to win this game. As he was preoccupied leaving a red mark against your clavicle, you sucked your middle finger into your mouth for your planned attack. Before you could do anymore though, he moved two of his digits against your soaked clit at speed, tapping every now and then and making you writhe and grip the sheets with overstimulation. You held off best you can but he was hitting that spot that few had taken much longer to find before. You knew what was coming but it was too late to warn him. 

Your orgasm took over your body from the middle down to your toes and up until your eyes practically rolled back in your head. You heard the lewd, wet sounds his thrusts were still making and wanting to even things up you made a quick recovery enough to part your mouth and make your middle finger drip with saliva as you gripped his ass to guide him into you. You could tell by his speed he was almost there so you went between his cheeks with your slick finger and suddenly buried it inside him to the hilt. He was still stretched from the previous guy so you sink to the knuckle easily. It only took two movements to feel him spill inside you. Long drawn out moans left his lips like a dirty drawl from his throat. You took out your finger and went slack onto the mattress. 

He was spent but he wasn't done. 

As he pulled out of you carefully, gushes of your cum cascaded down onto the expensive sheets. If he didn't know you were a squirter, he did now. He stared watching it fall from your weepy hole blind removing the condom and tossing it into the bin behind. 

"Holy fuck. I.. I've never managed that before. You're a fucking dream….so fucking sexy. Fuck" he looked at you like a feast. Your saturated underwear stretched out beyond repair now. Laying against your thigh and the material dripping. He pulled the stockings from their clips quickly, not taking them off but so he could peel the knickers from your sticky thighs. You noticed he threw them down near what you assumed to be his tux. 

And that was it, he pushed your thighs up and back to your body so your knees were flush against your chest. You felt some of your cum still seeping out if you and he growled watching the last few drops drip down your bum and onto the bed. 

He dove into you like he'd not eaten in weeks. Lapping every bit of fluid from your pussy, clit, thighs and ass. He licked around your puckered hole as he sink two fingers into your cunt at pace. 

"You got one more in there for me hmm?"

He said huskily, keeping one arm across your thighs as he sat up on his haunches to look down on you falling apart. You nodded frantically, feeling the bubbles in your stomach growing again. You felt the pressure build between your thighs. Completely living in this moment with this beautiful man you got to see so desperate for you to cum. He dived back in to trace figure eights across your clit with the tip of his tongue before laying it flat and going up over it again and again. He alternating the two before you were ready to burst. He felt it on his fingers so he stilled them inside you still lapping at clit but using his whole arm to move at speed up and down to keep pushing at that one ridge inside you. When he felt the first wave of your climax hit he quickly put his face infront of your cunt and let the force of your squirt hit him the face. He caught a good amount in his mouth before repeating the signature move of crawling back up to your face and getting your soft, limp body to open up so he could spit your cum back into your mouth. It was tart but sweet probably due to the pina coladas you'd sipped downstairs to get you loosened up a bit. 

"Good girl. Swallow, show me y've swallowed it all up" he panted kneeling at your side. 

You gulp and meekly open your mouth to prove it was all gone and he smirks and gives you a slow, lazy Sunday kind of kiss that sends its shivers down your spine. You stare at each other as he sweeps your sweet drenched hair from the front of your face. You're not sure what suddenly changed in the room but you've created your own bubble. Your own bubble where a millionaire pop star a Jenner has shagged, whispers praises against the shell of your ear in some sort of awe and kisses your neck and face tenderly. What even is life? 

It's stupid but you don't want to go. Well, it's not stupid as this boy is a hurricane in the sheets and why would you not want more!

But you know the deal. This isn't a date. This is an elite fuck party. A. Fuck. Party. 

The realisation dawns on you like a thorn to the side. You can't just lay here in a post orgasmic comatose state. There's people waiting, people he's waiting on too. He sees your eyes widen and watches in confusion as you take a white robe from the hook behind the door, still in your heels you pick up your bra. You smile briefly before closing the door behind you and practically sprinting to your car. 

Not before seeing the guy Harry had been deepthoating earlier, now standing fully clothed with a headset at the door you'd just come out of with a suit and headset on. Like nothing had ever happened. Of course you weren't interrupted. Of course he had security. You rush back down the staircase before you have a panic attack in plain sight. Your thoughts scrambled beyond what you thought was capable. Did that really just happen? With him? Is this who you are now?

It's only when you get to the end of the street after texting a quick "sorry wasn't my scene, call me when you need picking up" to your mate before leaving that you're suddenly aware you're missing your underwear...

[ginger-and-mint]

For Ryder: 🧁🍭👁️💀🦴🧛🧟 (Happy Halloween! These are great questions and adorable treats. I especially appreciate the accompanying examples.🧡)

Thank you so much for all these wonderful questions Mel, I had fun with them! ^u^ Also glad you like the treat ideas, I was doing a lot of browsing for Halloween baking anyway~

🧁 [pumpkin cupcakes] – Do you enjoy dressing up for Halloween?

Ryder would get a moderate amount of satisfaction out of dressing up for Halloween. Left to his own devices, he'd probably opt for a simple costume, like one that just involves a special shirt and a hat or something. But he would be game for wearing something more elaborate if somebody else laid out the creative vision for him.

🍭 [caramel apple lollipop] – What’s your sugar tolerance like?

On the high side of average. Ryder doesn't tend to consume lots of sweets of his own accord, but he's done enough di-mage training that he can handle a good bit of sugar before he'd start to feel icky.

👁️ [eyeball cake pop] – How do you feel about scary movies?

Not a fan. He's too empathetic. Unless the movie was really corny, he'd be too disturbed to enjoy anything about it, and if it was really corny, he'd find it so stupid that he wouldn't get the appeal. A mild psychological thriller might be okay, but that's as scary as he goes.

💀 [popcorn skull] – What’s the silliest thing you’re afraid of?

This may sound a bit strange, but dense patches of filth. Like a tangled mess of old cobwebs, or an unswept crevice full of huge dust bunnies, or a neglected boiler closet full of rot and mold. Anybody would find that gross, sure -- but Ryder gets a creeping sense of dread from the sight of it, like the filth might swallow him up.

🦴 [gingerbread skeleton] – If you were a character in a horror movie, would you survive to the end?

Probably not, just because he fits that mentor archetype so well. He's competent enough to survive, but tropes demand that he would probably end up sacrificing himself to the monster to save the rest of the group halfway through the film. c':

🧛 [cup of vampire punch] – Are you squeamish about blood?

Nope. He's got the grit of a medical professional when it comes to blood.

🧟 [slice of graveyard cake] – If you heard a scary noise in the middle of the night, would you go investigate?

He would! Dad-with-under-bed-baseball-bat style.

Treat Total: this comes out to 1 slice of cake, 1 cupcake, 1 cake pop, 1 cookie, 1 popcorn skull, a lollipop, and a cup of punch -- which is quite a bit of sugar for Ryder, honestly! I don't think he'd feel uncomfortable from it yet, but he'd probably start to feel his tummy rumbling a warning that it's time to slow down.

[dancedelion]

40 and 41 for the prompt thing, geraskier. I'd love it if Jaskier said 40 to geralt who completely doesn't believe him but by the end of the story geralt says 41 to jaskier

40: “I know you’re trying to push me away, but I won’t let you.” 41: “The only person I need right now is you.” Thank you for the prompt! I hope you like it. (Link to ao3) Past should stay passed, Geralt always thought. Some things were better buried. The before and the before the before – before the Djinn, before Jaskier, back when the world was easy – and before that there was Kaer Morhen – a castle filled with blood, bad odds and dying dreams. Grave's scattered across the continent, filled with Geralt's worst mistakes, with so many people he never managed to save.

And here she was – not his past, small mercies for that, but past none the less. Engulfed in a green shine, she hovered a few feet above the ground, her dress laced with finest jealousy. She bared her teeth to him like an animal would, straight and pale-green and not the least bit sharp. Gone was all sense of poise or elegance she possessed in her mortal life. Geralt had seen women like her before, born into nobility. She must have had everything. And now she felt entitled to it.

She floated toward him and instinctively, Geralt stumbled back. He teetered on the edge. A glance down quickly reminded him that they were on the highest floor of a five-story building. The contractor, Mr. Lewandowski, pressed himself further against the wall and he stared at her with an intensity only someone haunted could muster. He had been calm and unfazed when Geralt had first spoken to him, arrogance straightening his spine, but deep-seated cowardice in his eyes.

Geralt kept a tight grip on the cold handle of his sword, but made no move toward the spirit. The problem was not the number or the strength of the enemy, it was the number of people to protect. Mr. Lewandowski's mistress wailed quietly on the floor, already beaten down and bleeding from her forehead. But the worst part of it, the part where Geralt felt his eyes darting around, where he felt his movements become frantic, where he felt irrationality slowly taking over his brain, was Jaskier in the corner of his eyes. Idiotic, reckless Jaskier who could not keep out of trouble to save his life. Geralt would be damned if that became literal today.

���Darling,” the spirit said, her voice sweet as sugar, “do you remember the stars that night?”

Even though her words were directed at Mr. Lewandowski, she kept her eyes on Geralt, probably because he was the one with the sword.

“They were sparkling so beautifully, and no better place to watch than from the roof top, isn't that right?”

It would be so easy for Jaskier to run, the stairs were right behind him. He was not hurt yet, there was nothing keeping him from getting to safety. The wraith was not interested in him.

“You've always been a romantic, that's why I fell for you. For wedding nights, spent watching the stars at night.”

But of course, Jaskier's unhealthy fascination with dangerous things kept him rooted to the spot, had kept him rooted at Geralt's side for years.

“So you, great appreciator of beautiful things, was my hair not golden enough for you? Does she buy you the prettiest jewellery? Do the stars shine brighter now that I'm gone?”

Mr. Lewandowski, perhaps remembering that he had once loved her, or perhaps still loving her, slowly stepped away from the wall and took a small step towards her.

“It wasn't my fault,” he said, voice rough, “I didn't know the roof was slippery.”

“But you did know it had rained the night before.”

“You – she's lying -”

“I say nothing I do not believe.”

“She slipped from my grasp, I would have done anything to pull her back up,” his voice was shaking, his whole face was doused in sweat. Her face lit up in anger, she was consumed with it. Could only violence bring her peace now? If Geralt only had more time -

She charged toward the woman on the ground so quickly, it almost felt like nothing more than a gush of wind.

“Hey, beautiful,” Jaskier said and Geralt's head whipped around. He had gripped a broken chair leg, and threw it forcefully at the wraith, who snarled at him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Geralt said, snarling too.

“I-improvising?” Jaskier said and finally – finally – stumbled backwards, a few steps down the stairs when the wraith started lashing out in his direction. Geralt tried to concentrate and focus on the wraith, though it was hard when he always had a clumsy idiot to keep track of. He lunged at her with the sword and kept going. Geralt tried to fight the panic off he had felt when she had moved towards Jaskier, but the stupid nerve connection between his brain and his legs made his next steps a bit sloppy. He tried to cast Yrden when his hits wouldn't land, but the wraith quickly slipped out of the way. This was just a fucking wraith, an easy one and Geralt was acting like a boy before his trials – what was wrong with him?

“You -” Geralt shouted to Mr. Lewandowski, “make yourself useful. Find her veil.”

He could see him starting to search for the veil while he continued to charge at the wraith. She was quick, but usually Geralt was quick, too, what was going on, why couldn't his gaze ever stop searching for Jaskier, who still wouldn't run, he wanted to yell, but yelling never worked, Jaskier always stayed and there was nothing he could ever do about it.

“I won't allow you her sweeter kisses,” the wraith asserted and made for the woman and when Geralt swirled around she was already falling and they were always falling and Jaskier was human and weak and fragile and just a gush of wind could have pushed him over the edge -

“I've found it!” Mr. Lewandowski yelled.

Geralt fought and he fought and he never won – they always fell. And Jaskier was always, always too close to the edge.

Mr. Lewandowski threw the veil when the wraith came toward him and Geralt ran to catch it.

“Helena -” “It never slipped,” she said raising her voice and finally shouting. “You let go of my hand. You let go of my hand!”

She was almost about to reach him when Geralt cast Igni on the veil and it went up in flames. The green blazes consumed the wraith almost in an instant and Geralt let out a harsh breath. She was gone – and so was that woman.

“That was close,” Mr. Lewandowski said after a while. “And all that, just to burn a veil? What did I even hire you for?”

Why was it always men like Mr. Lewandowski who survived?

“Your wraith is gone. I held up my end of the bargain.”

“I suppose. I would expect the higher the body count, the more you shave off the cost.”

Geralt sighed very deeply.

“You lost your – woman... and you are worried about money?”

Mr. Lewandowski shrugged a little and smiled – the unsettling smile of someone who had gotten quite good at lying to himself. Geralt pressed his lips together. At the end of the day, monsters were monsters and humans were humans. Or maybe it was the other way around? Geralt had lived so long that he wasn't quite sure any more. ____ “Whew, that was an adventure,” Jaskier said when they were on the road again. “This is why I will never get married.”

Jaskier was always too - there.

“Hm.”

“You're lucky I was there. Nifty trick with the chair leg, don't you think? You can always rely on your best friend to save you -”

Jaskier was not enough yesterday and certainly not enough tomorrow.

He was too human. Too being.

He was too little of too much. “We're not friends.”

And he always tore at Geralt, tore at everything, until there were a thousand tears in Geralt's skin, and worse, a thousand tears hidden in his eyes, because witchers never cry.

“Gee, what would you call it after all these years? Careful acquaintanceship? I beg to differ -”

And Geralt had had enough of it.

“You are nothing, nothing to me.”

He'd had enough of the smiles, the smirks, the twinkle in Jaskier's eyes.

“You are the last person I ever want to see.”

He'd had enough of the touches, the distractions, the closeness.

“The only reason you've followed me around for years is because I've never found a way to fucking get rid of you.”

Enough of this strange, unfamiliar feeling in his chest.

Jaskier had left Geralt raw. Exposed. Like he had stripped away Geralt's skin and then his flesh until all that Geralt was was teeth and bark and bite. And he was not soft after Jaskier was done with him, he was harsh and hard and there was no sight more harrowing than that of Geralt's skeleton hand reaching out to him – so very fragile, but were they too fragile to – strangle? How hard can bone fingers squeeze?

How could Jaskier leave him so breakable?

He had stripped Geralt of everything, one shove and he would have a clutter, a clusterfuck.

Give me one look and you will have me in shambles, touch me and I will be smithereens.

Geralt pressed his teeth together and he would keep pressing until he heard something break. Jaskier was staring at him, nothing but staring, and how much do I have to hurt you before you leave? How far do I have to reach into your soul and destroy whatever I find before you finally see?

“I know you're trying to push me away, but I won't let you,” Jaskier said finally. Jaskier had loved a hundred people before and none of them were here now.

“Of course I'm trying to push you away, how else would I get you to finally leave?”

(I dare you to find my skeleton in the mass grave you left behind, can you tell human from witcher?)

Jaskier was a leaver and Geralt was – a leavee. He was always being left behind, why would this be different?

Humans were usually fickle, so if Geralt only pushed in the right places... Even someone as stubborn as Jaskier would eventually cave.

“I don't need you, I've never needed you, you're a nuisance, nothing more.” “Geralt, it's okay. It's okay to need people. You don't always have to walk alone, you know.”

Jaskier should keep his pretty lies to himself, Geralt didn't need them. Everyone left. And Geralt was a witcher, not easily deceived.

Geralt pressed his eyes closed, like that would make it all go away, like the image of her falling would vanish.

Slowly, he opened them again and looked at Jaskier, who was still gentle, even though Geralt didn't deserve it and never had.

You will die one day and come back to haunt me, won't you?

(You are already haunting me.)

Jaskier stepped closer carefully. In the face of a thousand lies Geralt almost told him – I hate you, I hate you, I hate you – all Jaskier did was – come closer. Shocked, Geralt stepped back.

“You're always distracting, you're always so irritating, you don't make any fucking sense -”

I push and I push and you, impossible human, come closer.

“I'm staying. Don't you know that, Geralt? If you let me, I will always stay.”

What, so you can push me off the edge -

“Geralt, you don't really want me to go, do you?” Jaskier said softly.

“You will,” Geralt said, all false anger suddenly drained out of him. “You'll go. And I won't be able to stop you.”

“Why would you say that?”

Jaskier slowly reached out and touched Geralt's hand – Geralt could barely keep himself from flinching away.

“Because you're human.”

And Geralt knew, of course he did, what that strange feeling in his chest was, what was so hard to contain but even harder to set free.

Geralt had never loved someone as fleeting as Jaskier. Jaskier flickered from one moment to the next, always a hair's breadth away from flickering out.

Do you think I can stomach that? Do you think I will ever stop seeing your shadow?

(You make me so breakable.)

(You make me more human than anyone else.)

And then Jaskier seemed to see something in Geralt's eyes.

“Oh Geralt. You...”

The shameful truth of it burned in Geralt's throat.

“I don't mean to.”

“But you do.”

“Hard not to.”

“Yes. It's the same for me too.”

Jaskier grabbed Geralt's hand gently. It was a firm grip, one not easily broken.

“I'm sorry,” Geralt said quietly, and no matter what Geralt said, Jaskier came closer.

“I know.”

Jaskier deserved so much more than this, so Geralt was going to try.

“The truth,” he started and broke off. “The truth is. The only person I need right now is you.”

“That's okay,” Jaskier said and squeezed Geralt's hand. “I'm always here.”

It was a promise, and Geralt, who was more of a fool than he would like to admit, believed him, at least a little bit. For just a moment, he allowed himself to believe that this touch would not haunt him years from now, and drew Jaskier in closer. He kissed him, then, and did not think about how there was a last for every first and pain for every bit of joy Geralt had ever dared to reach for. He kissed Jaskier and thought not for a single second about the repercussions.

The stars above them were shining brilliantly.

Some people can reach for the stars and they will fall, but falling upwards is just - flying.

[you-kinda-smell-like-christmas]

Rehab (pt.2)

¡Hola bellos! This is my entry for @pretendcnco 300(?) followers challenge! Congrats babes on hitting that milestone! I hope you guys enjoy this!❤

**********************************************

Pairing: criminal!Chris x reader

Warnings: swearing, angst?, mentions of jail, mentions of marijuana, feels, drugs

Word Count: 8.1k

“Forget all we said that night, no, it doesn't even matter, 'cause we both got split in two, If you could spare an hour or so we'll go for lunch down by the river, we can really talk it through.”

**********************************************

Christopher's POV

The pouring rain outside foreshadowed the mood for me all day. I've been stuck in jail for 15 days. 2 weeks and 1 day. It's been 15 days since I was dropped off here, and 15 days since the break up. I've been feeling nothing but pain, sorrow, hurt, and regret. Regret for my past, my actions, my self. But most importantly, I felt regret for letting her go so easy. Then again, there's not much you can do to contact someone when they arent on your visitors list, or just dont want to see you at all. All I know is that I need to apologize and explain myself to her. I cant let her go that easy.

Walking out of my cell, I approached the makeshift cafeteria and was given my breakfast. Breakfast today consisted of pancakes, blueberries, and a carton of milk. Just like Y/N used to make. Only much more edible. Nevertheless, I ate the slop. The meal had reminded me to much of her that I didnt realize I started to cry until a tear landed on the plastic tray. God I miss her.

Sulkingly, I finished the breakfast and stood up from the metal table, throwing my trash away, and returning the plastic tray to the men who were working the cafeteria. Heading towards my cell, I had some major thinking to do.

Arriving at C153, I entered, and was locked back in the tiny cubicle. As I looked around the room, my eyes landed on a picture. Inmates were able to keep some form of personal life with them during their stay here. Mine just so happened to be a picture. A picture that held a thousand words. In the picture, Y/N and I were on our couch laughing at god knows what and just having a good time. Though, my ass was high as fuck that night, I still remember the lecture she gave me. The lecture that ultimately landed me here. The lecture that tore us apart.

"Christopher stop! That's too much."

Christopher had arrived home high as hell, and you weren't letting him off easy this time. You and him say om the couch. Your legs intertwined with his, holding hands, with your head on his chest. What started off sweet would soon turn into something you may regret.

"Chris, babe, you're high again. You need to drink some water." You tried to help him recover.

"I'm fine Y/N." His words slipped up, and he definitely was not fine.

"Chris stop! No you arent. You need to get some rest, and drink some water too." You tried negotiating with him.

"I'm fine Y/N. I promise." Christopher slurridly said.

Sighing, you take a step back. He wasn't going to listen to you. He never does when hes high. You always told yourself you knew what you were getting into, when you started dating a drug dealer. You thought he had changed. You helped him stop his drug addiction. You were there for him. And you always would be. However all good things come to an end. Once an addict, always an addict. Right? Halfway into your relationship, he went back to his old ways. Recieving yet another addiction to marijuana. You couldn't handle this anymore. You needed to stop this once and for all.

You tore the blunt he held in his hand away from him. "What the hell Y/N?" Chris had shouted at you.

"Chris, this needs to stop. Once and for all."

"Why? I feel fine. I'm telling you that I'm perfectly okay right now." Chris fired back.

"No you're not. Just stop." You nagged him on.

"Just shut the fuck up Y/N. I said I'm fine and I mean it. Sometimes you just annoy me. I wish I didnt date you sometimes." He muttered the last part to himself, but you still heard it.

With tears brimming your eyes, you shakingly look up, hoping what he didnt mean what he said. "You dont mean that, do you?"

"Of course I do. You nag me all the time about stupid shit, when you know damn well that I'm perfectly fine of handling it myself."

Ouch. That stung. But then you remembered that he was high and most likely wouldn't remember most of the things he said tomorrow.

So with all the courage you had, you mustered up two words. "Fuck you." You sneered at him, walking to your room and locking yourself in it to hopefully try to get some sleep.

The next morning you woke up, and went to check up on Chris. When you got downstairs, he made breakfast for you. Pancakes, blueberries and coffee just the way you liked it: four sugars with five creams.

He seemed stable today. You needed to talk about last night though. "How was your night?" Chris interrupted your thoughts.

"Good. Pero, we need to talk about last night."

Chris remembers what happened last night, and hes scared to talk about it. Of course he didnt mean to hurt you and say what he said, it just slipped out and was a heat of the moment type thing.

"Mira princesa, lo siento. Nothing I said last night was true. I love you and I love having you as my girlfriend. You've helped me through so much, and I can't thank you enough. I dont know what I would do without you. Tú eres mi vida, mi mundo."

The speech was heartfelt. But you wouldn't let it get to you this time. You needed to make sure Chris was understanding this as much as you were. "Chris, I love you, tú eres mi luz, but this needs to stop. You can't continue to do drugs. It needs to stop. Once and for all."

Chris was silent for a while. Realizing he may lose his love to marijuana. "Princesa, I promise to stop doing drugs. Pinky promise."

Trusting him, you intertwined pinkies, though you didnt trust him fully.

Coming back to reality, I realized I was crying. Sobbing even. I didnt realize how much of an effect Y/N could have on me. I said some stuff I regretted that night, and I broke a promise I made. A promise that led me here. In jail. For what cost? Nothing, because I lost something so great to me. All of a sudden, I remembered one final way I could contact her. I would have to write a note. Grabbing some paper and a pen from my cellmate, I began to write the letter. It would all be coming from my heart.

Querido Y/N,

Dios, where do I start? First off, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for breaking a promise I know was so important to you. I'm sorry for being such a terrible boyfriend. I'm sorry for not being there for you, when you were always there for me. I'm sorry for the countless times I've left you sitting at home alone, wondering where I was, when I was out doing drug business. I'm sorry for all the fights I've caused. I'm sorry for what I've said during those fights. Pero, I want you to know that I love you. Te amo mucho. Being in jail, without you gave me some time to think. Think about all that we've gone through, and how lucky I am to even have you in my life. I promise you, after this, no more drugs will be involved. I'll go to rehab, a halfway house, and do anything to get me back to where I need to be. With you. I'm sitting here, writing this note with full regret for my words and actions. Pero, actions speak louder than words, and my actions led us away from eachother. I just wanted to say gracias. Gracias por everything you've given me, and supported me with. I dont know where I'd be if I didnt meet you. You continue to make me want to get better and change for better. One day, we will be together again. I'll always be waiting for you. Whether you're on the other side of the world, or I have to wait a lifetime, my arms are always open for you. Te amo mucho. Forget all we said that night, no, it doesn't even matter, cause we both got split in two, If you could spare an hour or so we'll go for lunch down by the river, we can really talk it through. I love you.

Tú amor,

Christopher

Tears rid the letter. It was a very heartfelt one. Tears littered my face as well. I cant afford to lose her. Sealing it in an envelope with her name and information on it, I quickly say a prayer to God hoping he'll answer me.

Walking out of my cell with the envelope on my hand, I put it in the box labeled "outgoing mail."

Now all we can do is wait.

Taglist:

@smoljoelito, @estoy-enamorado-de-ti, @cncobby, @ericksmamita ,@ellos-me-vuelven-loca

[dangertoozmanykids101]

My Sassy Cat Burglar

Okay y'all, this isn't a Tom Hiddleston or Loki story. ['So what's the point in posting here, Tooz??? You're taking up prime TH space on the dashboard!' Ha ha, very funny. Bite me!] But if you bare with me, maybe y'all can help me out? When I had my husband read my story, he thought it was funny. (He better. It's about his spawn.) But he looked at me, "I'm confused. When does Tom Hiddleston come into it?" He thought I would put Hiddleston-smut in a story about our daughter! Does he think that is ALL I think about all day long? (That was a rhetorical question, by the way!)

Like a lot of parents in this day and age, I post about my kids on Facebook. I honestly haven't kept track of anything anywhere else. I didn't do baby books. I don't have the attention span for scrapbooking. And a diary or journal is way too much commitment. Facebook, though, I can handle. I especially enjoy posting stories about how ridiculous living with these 4 monsters feels some days.

When the twins were infants, I would post video after video of the 2 of them crying at the top of their lungs. I wanted to provide that sample taste, if anyone needed a baby-fix. Or I posted the photo of my daughter's tantrum when she emptied out all of her drawers onto the floor. Endless photos of them filthy, naked, and usually crying. I need to assemble a montage of how every video seems to end with me saying, "Oh, forget it!"

One of my favorite videos of the twins around 1 yr old is only 5 seconds long. Instead of helping me put cans into the bag for recycling, they had emptied the bag all over the living room. With Lincoln's eyes glued on me, defiant from birth, I sweetly ask, "Now can we put the cans INTO the bag?" He reaches in the bag, grabs a can, holds it out, and basically does a mic drop with the can, never taking his eyes off of me.

Today, I wrote this story, My Sassy Cat Burglar. WITHOUT Hiddleston smut. If you're lucky, maybe tomorrow I'll post another version WITH Hiddleston smut. But I promise nothing.

My Sassy Cat Burglar

Veronica peeked into the living room, spying me asleep on the couch. I no longer have a fever, so Rob went back to work today. I'm laying on the couch though, because my head is still aching and my throat is sore. Mind you, if a mother is dozing, that never guarantees that she doesn't hear every single sound around her. I could easily discern Veronica's footsteps as she quietly padded back into the kitchen. Her tiptoes sound completely different from Jack's patters or the twins shuffles.

She pulled a chair slowly to the fridge. The floor is filthy again, so moving any chair silently on that nasty floor would be impossible. Between the spilt sugar, ground up chips and crackers, and dripped strawberry smoothie for added stickiness, the chair pads made a loud grinding squeal for the entire 18 inches that she dragged the chair.

My little burglar paused, listening for any sign of life from me, I'm sure. Yet I wasn't going to move a muscle, unless I had to. Once she'd concluded that her stealth hadn't been compromised, she stepped up onto the chair to reach the treasures on fridge-top. The chair creaked more than the floor as she carefully shifted her weight from foot to foot, then back down into the floor.

She's actually getting very good at this. With her recent growth spurt, a whole world of goodies are suddenly within her reach. The cabinets and shelves have never been more interesting to her than they are now. But I knew exactly what she was seeking this time.

Earlier this morning, she had already asked me if she could have a brownie at 10am. Actually, her request started with, "Can I have one if Daddy's York Mint Patties?"

"No." I don't think she was surprised by my answer to that. I may not have even needed to be conscious to provide that answer. Those are Daddy's special treats he takes to work.

"Then can I have a brownie?"

"No!" I actually had to glance at the time before I answered that one. I'm desperately trying to be more of a 'yes' person. I truly am. But no one needs brownies at 10am.

"Then, what CAN I have?"

No shock to her, I'm sure, I sternly retort my standard answer, "How about REAL food?"

In turn, my sassy little thing stomps off in a melodramatic huff. "I'll just starve then!"

So a few hours later, after playing outside and making sandwiches for her and the boys, I don't mind if she finally has that brownie she wanted. I haven't heard any fighting. That is a rarity any day. Granted, I wish she would learn to put meat and cheese back into the fridge when she's finished, but I'll nag about that later. So far today, she's been a great big sister.

As soon as I hear the brownie wrapper pull open, I holler out to her, "If you're going to have a brownie,..." I pause, and she stops rustling the brownie wrapper. "Do you hear me?"

A quiet little "yes" squeaks out of the kitchen.

"Please put the brownie box back up on the fridge when you're done. If the babies get into the brownies, they'll eat them all. And Dad will be PISSED!"

No answer. "Do you hear me? Don't leave that box on the table. OK?"

“OK."

After that, this mom's dozing-radar went off high alert, and I drifted back off to sleep - until I heard more plastic rustling. Rustle. Rustle. Rustle. Dammit Veronica! I can't trust you to help at all! I knew those babies would devour all the brownies. It won't be the first time I find the box empty with brownie wrappers covering the table and floor. The twins are worse than puppies! They use scissors!

Using my firm mom-is-patient-but-serious voice, "That's enough of the brownies!"

The rustling pauses for a moment, leaving only silence. But then, to my shock, the rustling starts again. How dare they!!!! "Do you hear me? I said no more brownies!"

There's only a mere second of pause this time before the rustling starts again. Ooooh, I'm angry now. This means I have to get up. (Well, it's time for more Motrin anyways, since that headache is back. But that's not the point.) So I stand, and fly into the kitchen to catch the culprit in the act, rustling away.

No kids.

No box of brownies.

No empty wrappers.

Just Bingo on the table, biting and tugging on the plastic bags of cereal left on the table. She looks at me with the sweetest, more expectant face, giving a hopeful little "meow!" She jumps off the table and runs to her food bowls, putting a paw on the tupperware, with another pleading "meow."

Veronica pops her head in the backdoor, "Did you call me?"

@alexakeyloveloki @haute-macabre @dianamolloy @missdibley @missanonwrites @largebeeffriedrice @ohhhmyloki @redfoxwritesstuff @bambamwolf87

So I guess we could find Tom sitting on the table fussing with the cereal bags, instead of Bingo? The ties on those bags aren't necessarily easy to undo. What do you think? ;-)

[calyxaomphalos]

The Ghosts of Windy Ridge

Turn #106, one component

neighbor #11 - Stan McCallen (6)

27 April 2022, Wednesday Afternoon

I'd just paid my tab at Timmy's Diner and was about to leave when I saw Stan McCallen headed across the parking lot toward the door. The last time I'd seen Stan was last Friday afternoon out at the Sundevil River overlook and he had been less than pleased with me. I didn't see any way to not run into him. It was too late to duck back to the restrooms. He'd be in the door any moment.

He'd spotted me, I could tell. But he looked relieved? Like he was glad to see me? I was just putting my wallet into my bag when he opened the inner doors of the diner. "Ms Dyer! I am sure you will doubt my sincerity when I say I am relieved to see you. Please, may we talk?"

"I've just now finished my breakfast, but I think I could handle another cup of coffee and a dessert if you wanted to join me at a booth," I suggested.

"Yes, of course. A fine idea. I could use a lunch break myself," Stan said.

The waitress looked mildly surprised as she lead us to a booth, one just adjacent to where I'd sat with Dani once before. With her coffee pot in hand, she poured us each a mug and pointed to the menus sticking out of the condiment rack at the end of the table. "Be back in a few, eh?" she muttered, then went back behind the counter.

Stan picked up a menu as I stirred a packet of sugar into my mug. I could feel his conflicting relief and nervous doubts.

"I'm sure you know I'm a tarot reader," I began, hoping to ease into this gently. "But it doesn't take a psychic to think that you've been visited by the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come here, eh?"

Stan looked only at the cream he was slowly pouring into his mug. "Yes'm," he said quietly. "Something very much like that, yes."

I put my hand out toward the middle of the table, not touching him, but close by, just in case.

Stan continued stirring a bit longer than needed, then set his spoon aside and took a careful sip. He made no move to take my hand, but after he'd swallowed his coffee, he cleared his throat and said, "a spirit came to me at home the other night. It glowed, much like the one Pastor Mitchelson calls up at services."

He paused and took another swig of coffee. The only glowing spirit around here I know of is Ergediel, and the last time I spent any time in their company was over two weeks ago, when I visited Foras' Lair and came away with an old graphics programming textbook written by Mo. Ergediel hadn't thought much of me at that last meeting, but that hadn't kept me from offering coffee and thanks to them every morning at the cabin for the kindness they showed me when I had first come to town. I was hoping that Ergediel perhaps thought fondly enough of me and in visiting Stan, had convinced him that I'm not the menace he had been led to believe.

I took a swig of my own coffee and waited for Stan to continue. When he had another swallow of his own coffee and didn't seem to want to continue his commentary without me saying something, I faced a moment of indecision. Do I speak of my own connection to Ergediel? Or do I go ahead and let my surprise show at Stan's revelation that Pastor Dick summons visible spirits?

I decided on the latter and lifted my hand off the table to grasp my mug with both hands. "Pastor Mitchelson summons visible spirits, you say? And you believe this same spirit visited you recently? I'm sure you're telling me the truth, but honestly, I didn't think Pastor Dick had it in him to conjure a spirit." I let the pejorative nickname linger in the air for a while and took another swig from my mug.

"Yes'm," Stan said, and then he looked at me with a smile and a wink. "That spirit had a message for you, from your friend Maurice. I'm sure I have no idea why I was chosen to give the message to you, but here I am."

"Well, this is a fascinating turn of events! Please, what was the message?"

"The spirit told me to tell you, well, the spirit told me to tell you, he said, 'I am what I am.'"

I felt like my mind had played a trick on me. The phrases that Stan had said matched up perfectly with a sampled bit of audio I regularly hear on my favorite ambient music internet radio station. I had no idea if that was actually what Stan had said, or if somehow hearing his first few words caused me to hear the entire rest of his comment as the sampled track.

Stan's eyes had glazed over. Before I could muster the courage to ask him to repeat the spirit's message, the waitress abruptly appeared at the table. "Y'all want to order any food?"

Stan came out of his trance almost immediately and said, "I'll take a cheeseburger, extra pickle, no tomato, no mustard."

In hopes that sitting here another half hour or so while Stan ate his lunch might give Ergediel's message a chance to resurface, I went ahead and said, "I'll have a slice of the apple pie, a la mode, thanks."

The waitress turned and left. I paused a moment and then said, "so, you were just about to tell me the message from my friend Mo?"

"Right. I'm having deja vu or something because I thought I'd already told you. The spirit told me to tell you that Maurice says Salimi believes it was Bob who made the paintings and that you know where to find Bob. I have no idea who any of those people are, other than you and your friend Maurice, of course."

"I see, thank you," I replied, unsure about how much more to say on the matter, but I was filled with relief. If Salimi Kamal wasn't going to try to nail me for the paintings, I was probably going to be safe.

[lizzybeth1986]

Nuestra Familia (RCD MC: Astrid)

Book: Red Carpet Diaries

Rating: G

Pairing: Astrid-centric, minor Seth x Astrid

Summary: Astrid realises she doesn't know her family as well she had thought. Minor crossover with The Freshman/The Sophomore/The Junior.

Author's Note: This is a bit late for MC Appreciation Week, but I figured I'd put it out there anyway. This is my origin story for Astrid Ortega, my second RCD MC, who is involved with Seth. There's a cameo of one character from TF/TS/TJ in the end and I have a feeling you folks have already figured out who it is 😅 I used (of course) the "crossover" prompt from this list for my fic. I'm tagging @choices-mc-rules, in case they would still like to reblog this.

Translations:

Nuestra familia - "our family" in Spanish.

Chanclas - slippers/flip-flops

Tres leches cake - Typically a very moist chiffon cake soaked in a mixture of evaporated milk, condensed milk and heavy cream. Tres leches literally means "three milks".

Abuela - one of the terms used for ‘grandmother’ in Spanish.

Ita - Short for Abuelita, also used for grandmothers. Astrid calls her grandmother the former, her mom Teresa calls her grandmother the latter.

Manda Huevos - Can mean a lot of things according to context, but generally used to express a range of emotions, such as annoyance, disappointment, contempt or disbelief. In this context, Teresa means “it's not fair”.

If I've gotten anything wrong in terms of references, please do tell me, and I'll definitely fix it in the fic.

“One more foot inside my kitchen and it'll be my chanclas for you later.”

Teresa Ortega said these words to her daughter Astrid, in the same tone one would use to offer a guest some tea.

It wasn't that her mom didn't allow her kids to help with the cooking. She did. Salome was too young to do much but set the table yet but Astrid (and her big sister Letitia, whenever she was home) often pitched in to help with the meal.

But heaven help anyone who tried to help Mom with her tres leches cake.

This recipe was from Mom's Ita’s faded little diary, passed down to her by her mother on the condition that she would learn its recipes off by heart. It was her pride and joy, Mom would often say. Her baby before her actual babies came along.

And today it was even more essential Mom get this cake right. Astrid's abuela was visiting, and ever since Astrid's mother insisted on naming her Astrid (“She’s already named my first and last - at least leave the middle one to me!”) she could do nothing right.

Perhaps it would've been easier to handle if Dad wasn't Abuela's only son, if Mom had someone she could jointly ignore Abuela with, if they had cousins they could play with while the adults sorted out their issues. Or perhaps not. Still, it would have been nice to know.

“Easy, mom, I'm not going to touch your precious cake,” Astrid said, grinning, “Lemme demolish it at lunch instead.”

She'd be lying if she said she wasn't tempted, though. She could get the scent of baked cake wafting in all the way from her bedroom, and her mother was already starting to combine Carnation milk, condensed milk and 1/4th of a cup of heavy cream into a thin, but somewhat creamy, mixture.

Mom raised her eyebrows. “Why are you here, then?”

Astrid felt the muscles around her neck tense up, but schooled her face to a look of injured innocence. “What, can't I just want to talk to my mom once in a while?”

She craned her neck a little further behind Astrid, a tiny frown beginning to form between her brows. “What's that you're holding behind your back?”

Ding! The cake was ready now, just in time for soaking. Astrid let out a sigh of relief. She wanted Mom to see this wedding card, yes - it was why she came to the kitchen in the first place - but now was probably not the time for questions. Questions about family or about secrets. Not when she knew how important it was for her mother to get her weekend cakes right.

“Family” was always a big deal around the Ortega table. Dad was his mother's only child, and Mom’s parents passed on long before any of them were ever born. Her father was as annoyed by Abuela's antics as her mother was, but it never stopped him from having her visit every Sunday because “she's the only family we have left”.

It was as if he needed her to keep himself rooted, as if without her he would be floating aimlessly, no aim or identity, taking his wife and children down that path with him. Abuela knew this. By God, did she know this.

Or so I thought, Astrid said to herself, gripping the wedding card tightly and creating new creases where the word Ortega was written.

Mom was gritting her teeth now, carefully pouring the three-milk mixture over the cake and muttering to herself. “One more word about dry cake this time and I'll give her soggy toast, I swear I will.”

Astrid would have stood up last week and said something to Abuela, if only Mom would let her. It was probably a good thing Leticia wasn't around, she'd fire shots at Abuela for less. She was protective over all of them and often in the heat of the moment she'd forget she’d be landing them all in further trouble.

She was still muttering. “Wants chiffon cake. Screams bloody murder if I use box mix. What, Teresa, looking for shortcuts again?” Mom's voice was raised in an accurately nasal imitation of Abuela's voice. It was almost like she'd forgotten Astrid was there. “Then I make it from scratch like she wants. Then it's Oh Teresa this is so dry oh Teresa it tastes like sawdust. Why else do you think I use box mix, eh? You want it from scratch and you want moist. ¡Manda Huevos!”

The diatribe kept Mom occupied while she finished pouring, so Astrid kept silent. Mom needed this. This wasn't something she can say in front of Letitia (resulting in another Sunday screaming match) or Dad (what would he do?) or Salome (no way would the kid ever take Salome, language! seriously again). Mom needed someone to have her back, no matter how silently or secretly. And that someone had better be her.

“If only Linda had stayed…”

Astrid froze. “What did you say?”

Mom looked up, blinked twice, then stiffened. “Nothing. Nothing.”

Silently, Astrid handed over the card she'd been holding, all this time. She found it while searching for her dad's treasured García Lorca poetry collection, hidden between a page that exalted love and a page that mourned loss.

Mom took it from her, her eyes widening as she read the words.

LINDA ORTEGA

and

DOMINIC SANDOVAL

request the honour of your company at their wedding.

“Dad always told us he was all Abuela has, right,” Astrid said, “The only Ortega for miles around."

Mom answered by busying herself with more activity than ever. Keeping the soaked cake in the fridge. Pouring the remaining milk mixture into two glasses. Washing her hands. Washing the dishes.

“I'll do that for you,” Astrid took a plate from Mom's hands, “Just talk to me.” She grabbed a sponge and dish washing soap, cleaning vigorously. “All this time, Dad's been telling us Abuela's the only family he has, Mom. Like, he has no one else. Like, we have no sisters or brothers besides the three of us. Was he lying?”

“You're wrong,” Mom said, her voice suddenly sounding sharper, harder, “Abuela's the only family he has left. Your father didn't lie.”

“Just omitted the truth, yeah,” Astrid wished she knew how she felt about this. Right now there was so much she was feeling that she didn't exactly know where to begin. “There's no “together with our parents” above their names either. Not like yours’.”

Mom sighed, picked the card up, then held up two glasses of milk-mixture in front of her. “Take one and give the other to your sister. I have a lot of work to do.”

On any other day, Astrid would have grabbed that glass and relished its creaminess, wiping the milk-moustache off her mouth with a flourish. But today no amount of sweetness was going to take away that weird metallic taste in the roof of her mouth.

“I'm not done asking about this,” Astrid said, scowling, “to you or to Dad. If I have aunts and cousins out there, that's something I wanna know.”

Astrid did try in the weeks to come. But she never saw the wedding card again, and neither Mom or Dad ever responded when she raised the topic again. Still. It felt nice to dream.

Every time Abuela made a snide remark at lunch, she imagined her cousins there. A snarky younger girl who’d make smartass comments. A strong boy her age who’d shut Abuela up with just a glare. A nice aunt who’d take Mom's mind off all this nonsense. It didn't help much, but it felt nice.

It felt nice knowing she had company out there. Somewhere.

--

6 years later.

“Donuts, Iowa?” Seth’s eyes were gleaming at the prospect. He was more a bag-of-chips kinda guy most days, but he also liked having massive sugar rushes before a comedy gig.

“As long as the insides of six of those are practically spilling over with fruit jam, I'm game,” she said, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. It felt exhilarating, freeing. She hadn't felt this normal in a while - normal enough to kiss her boyfriend without worrying about paparazzo jumping out from a bush. There was a guy in a leather jacket she didn't recognize - three blocks across - looking at her like he wanted to talk, but not in a way that made her feel unsafe.

That was the nice thing about Northbridge. People looked, sure, but they were less likely to make you feel like an exhibit from a zoo.

“Wait here, yeah?” Seth said, planting a kiss on the lips instead, “I'll be back before you can finish spelling “OHIO” with your arms.”

Astrid laughed. Seth said the most Ohio things sometimes. Neither of them had had this much fun since she was offered a lead role in Tender Nothings, which was why Seth always jumped at a chance to take up gigs in Northbridge, and why he always offered to take Astrid along when she was free.

The guy from before stepped forward a few minutes after Seth entered the donut shop. The summer heat must have been too much for him - his leather jacket was now slung over his shoulders. “Um, hello. Astrid Ortega?”

He stood with his hands in his pockets, mouth pursed into a thin line, a tiny curl slipping carelessly from his hair and resting on his forehead. She caught a peek at the tail end of a bird tattoo (Owl? The tail looked pointy) on his left arm.

“Yeah,” Astrid said, wondering whether it was her or Seth he wanted to talk to, “but I don't know what your name is.”

“ Zigmund. Zig for short,” he replied, looking behind him from time to time, “My sister Lucy’s a big fan. Asked me to help her get an autograph from you.”

“Is she here?”

“Yeah. But she doesn't want to come out. She's shy.”

Ah. So that was the cherry-red blur barely hidden by that building. She learned long ago that no matter how friendly you appeared, your image would precede you and intimidate people anyway. Autographs were great, but somehow she didn't want to stop at just that.

“Would she come out now if I asked?” she gave him her sunniest smile, “Tell her I won't bite.”

Zig hesitated, then nodded. Astrid watched him walk to the other building, move his hands expressively as he tried to convince his sister to join him (from that angle he almost looks like Letitia, Astrid thought), and return with a curly-haired, starry-eyed teenage girl.

“H-hey,” she said, then blushed, clearly embarrassed by her nervousness. Silently, she hands over her autograph book. She keeps her eyes studiously away from Astrid's face. “I, um, I like mystery films, and I really, really liked Tender Nothings.”

A girl after my own heart. “Maybe you'll like Sunset Boulevard, then,” she said, smiling.

Astrid could have just signed and left it at that, but there was something about these two. Something about the way they stood together, or exchanged glances, or something, that reminded her of home. Which was silly. But it didn’t change the fact that she wanted to leave a good impression on them.

“What would you like to be when you grow up, Lucy?”

Lucy didn't miss a beat. “Ballet dancer. Like my brother.”

Astrid smiled, particularly at the look the girl gave Zig. Yes, she could see on second glance that even though some people would say he didn't have the body of a dancer, he held himself with a certain grace, a certain lightness that belied a stronger core. Hit by a sudden rush of inspiration, she quickly scribbled a little note to go with her signature, and asked Lucy to read it.

To Lucy and Zig, future (hopefully!) best ballet dancing duo in America. Be sure to save me a seat when you folks get famous. Love Always, Astrid.

“Wowwww,” Lucy whispered. Zig suppressed his smile, trying not to let how he felt show, and failed. A corner of his mouth lifted upwards, revealing an almost-invisible dimple.

The two left before Seth brought his box of donuts,but they thanked her at least thrice as they walked away.

“Wait till I tell Mom about this,” Astrid overheard Lucy tell her brother as they left, “I told you she'd be really, really nice.”

“You did,” there was a note of indulgence in Zig's voice.

"Ortegas all around the world. Wherever we're from, we're nice.”

Had Seth come out a moment later, Astrid would have probably walked up to them and asked. Perhaps asked them where they were from and their parents’ names.

But Seth was here, with donuts, and there was never a moment she could take her eyes off either.

“Do you know those two?” Seth asked her, passing her a tres leches cake donut that was claimed to be one of their best, “They looked familiar.”

“”No,” Astrid replied, closing her eyes in bliss. Mmmm. The treat was taking her back to Des Moines, back to home, back to her mother's little kitchen. “But I wouldn't mind meeting them again.”

--

[stellamai]

Andrew thinks he doesn't like kids. Andrew's wrong.

Andrew doesn’t like children on principle. They’re noisy, excitable, annoying, and regularly deplete the chocolate ice cream supply in his local shop before he can get to it.

So why he is now driving hundreds of miles solely to visit a pair of four-year-olds is anyone’s guess. Although, he has to admit, the blue-eyed man to his right might have something to do with it.

For some reason, Neil adores Dan and Matt’s kids. He met them as babies - crying, sniveling, wrinkly things - and yet was not put off. Andrew can’t understand it. They’re twins, for God’s sake. Double the attention-seeking nuisance. He gets enough of that from the cats. He ended up having pictures of them shoved in his face for the next four years as Neil excitably told him about Willow’s first steps, Clara’s first word, their first baby teeth …

Then Dan and Matt had moved to just a state over, and Matt had started urging Neil to visit.

“No,” Andrew had said firmly, when Neil mentioned it. He should have known something was up when Neil let him put extra syrup on his pancakes that morning. Their coach had been trying to put Andrew on a reduced-sugar diet and, annoyingly, Neil was on the balding man’s side. “We are not driving five hundred miles to visit a couple of kids. If Matt wants you to see them so badly, he can bring them to one of Allison’s stupid Fox reunions.”

Neil had just looked at him for a minute, expression open and eyes so, so blue. “Clara gets nervous around new people. Matt doesn’t think she could handle meeting everyone at once.”

Andrew felt his resolve cracking, but kept his expression stony. Not that it did much good; Neil seems to be able to read him no matter what walls he puts up.

“He also tells me there’s an ice cream parlour near their house which gives you unlimited toppings for two dollars.”

Andrew frowned, and Neil knew he’d won. It was written all over his smug face.

“Is that a yes?” he asked with a cheeky smile.

“I hate you. Yes.”

“I’ll tell Matt we’ll see them next month.”

And so, on the first weekend of the off-season, they stock up the cats’ food and water dispensers that Neil had bought for when they were at away-games, pile into the car, and set off on their trip to visit the Boyd-Wilds household.

“No cigarettes near the kids,” says Neil sternly, tucking the carton away securely in the glove compartment. Andrew scowls but doesn’t protest, and when they next pull up at a gas station he buys four packets of boiled sweets in defiance and sucks on them obnoxiously for the remainder of the journey. Neil glares at him every time the packet rustles, and eventually snags Andrew’s free hand in his own to keep it occupied. Andrew links their fingers together and says nothing, opting to grab a new sweet with his other hand whenever they stop at a red light.

They arrive in the early afternoon, pulling up outside a uniform-looking white house in a row of many others. It’s a quiet neighbourhood, and their car had drawn attention from more than one passer-by on their way here. Andrew swipes the keys from Neil, who had been driving the last leg, and makes sure the car is locked before turning to walk through the gate Neil holds open.

The door is open before they can even think about ringing the bell and a tall figure emerges, carrying a much smaller one in his arms.

“Neil!” exclaims Matt. “And my favourite Minyard. Come on in.”

Andrew narrows his eyes but follows Neil and Matt inside without complaint. Matt sets twin number one down and immediately clasps Neil in a fierce hug, releasing him a second later with a wary glance at Andrew.

Neil rolls his eyes. “Good to see you too, Matt.”

“Looking good, Neil,” calls Dan, emerging slowly with twin number two clutching onto her leg - Clara, Andrew presumes. “What’s all this I hear about you two being signed to the US Court?”

“Nothing, yet,” replies Neil slyly, hopping out of the way as Willow barrels past him. “You shouldn’t put so much stock in what the media says.”

“Right,” says Matt, grabbing his unruly daughter and hoisting her into his arms again. “Like your supposed rivalry for the first few years of your career. Or how you supposedly got married in the Bahamas last year - wait, you didn’t, did you?”

Neil shakes his head with a grin. “Hello,” he says to Willow, who is now taller than him from where she sits in Matt’s arms.

“Hi!” she shouts, wriggling in Matt’s grip until he puts her down. She then proceeds to skip in circles around Neil, who stares at her in bewilderment. Andrew feels a strange sense of smugness.

They haven’t eaten since breakfast, not counting the sweets on Andrew’s part, so Dan makes them each a sandwich as the kids retreat to the garden to play with Matt. From what Andrew can see through the large French windows, they appear to be playing catch with a tennis ball. He shakes his head. There is no escaping the sports junkies. As if to prove this point, Neil goes out to join them at the first opportunity.

Andrew retreats to the living room, taking a seat on one of the large leather couches as he receives a text from Nicky, who has apparently been kept well-informed about their trip by Neil and is now eager to find out if Andrew’s opinion of children has been miraculously changed by what he calls ‘Dan and Matt’s angels’. Andrew is just about to type out a resounding ‘no’ when Clara appears at the door to the room, staring silently at Andrew for a minute before crossing to sit on the sofa with him.

He tilts his head to look at her for a minute, but when she doesn’t make any attempt at conversation he turns back to his phone.

‘Don’t know’, he sends back, just before everyone else piles into the room, loud and excitable. Neil glances at Andrew and Clara on the sofa, curiosity clear on his face, but when they make no move to interact with each other he turns his attention back to Matt and Willow, who appear to be reenacting one of Neil’s impossible goals from the previous season. Andrew hates that Neil doesn’t seem concerned that Andrew is in such close proximity to a small, defenceless, unpredictable child, hates that Neil has so much faith in him when he’s sure Dan and Matt still see him as a monster, and h a t e s the gentle smile that spreads across Neil’s face as he watches Matt and Willow play.

Clara lets out a small laugh when her sister mimes being checked rather dramatically into the wall of the court, but when Andrew turns his gaze to her she looks down again, hugging her knees to her chest in an obvious attempt to make herself smaller. Andrew knows the move well. His hands shake slightly as he’s tugged back into his past as a foster child, and he pulls out a sweet to unwrap to keep himself distracted. He wonders absently if there’s a child out there who’s like him - who’s crying out for help from people who will never understand them. He shakes the thought from his head. He may understand, but he’s in no position to help.

Then he looks at Neil, who rescued two stray cats and coaxed them back to health, who’s now managed to calm Willow down enough to crouch down and talk to her animatedly about something, grins covering both their faces, and he can’t stop the shiver that runs through him. He thinks, what if -

He’s jolted out of his thoughts by the realisation that Clara is looking at him - or, more accurately, she’s looking at the sweet wrapper he’s worrying between his fingers. He blinks, watching her for a moment before pulling out another sweet. He glances across the room, but no one’s looking at them, so he surreptitiously slides the sweet across the surface of the sofa and pulls his hand back, staring forwards the entire time. Clara snatches the sweet up and unwraps it, popping it in her mouth. The next time their eyes meet, she smiles.

By the time Neil’s ready to leave, Clara has visibly relaxed, a smile stuck on her face as her sister teases her and she responds by sticking out a tongue stained yellow from the lemon sherbets. When they’ve all said goodbye, she steps towards Andrew with her arms held out questioningly. He stiffens for a second, then crouches down, allowing her to wrap her arms around him briefly. He almost - almost - mirrors her smile when he sees the shocked looks on Dan and Matt’s faces, but it's their very presence that prevents it. He instead turns his attention to squashing the warmth blossoming in his chest, but fails miserably when he sees the grin that lights up Neil's face.

“Don’t even think about it,” he says once they’re back in the car, but his words hold no heat.

Neil just smiles wider. “So, ice cream?”

“Ice cream,” Andrew agrees, reaching for his cigarettes where they lie in the glove compartment. At the last second though, his hand stills, and he reaches for another sweet instead.

After all, there will be no smoking around the kids.

READ PART TWO HERE.

[fly-pow-bye]

Powerpuff Girls 2016 - “Power Of Four (Parts 1-2)”

Written by: Jake Goldman, Haley Mancini

Written & Storyboarded by: Kyle Neswald, Benjamin P. Carow, Julia Vickerman, Cheyenne Curtis, Alicia Chan, Grace Craft (sic), Jaydeep Hasrajani, Leticia Abreu Silva

Directed by: Nick Jennings, Bob Boyle

The first ratings stunt special! Might not be the only one.

(I know, I promised one review. I'll just say I really should have learned my lesson with the hour long DuckTales episode. Parts 3-5 will be up tomorrow.)

Before we start, some explanation about how I split this review up: While this episode aired as a 1.25 hour special in the US, this episode will air in at least one other country as five separate episodes, all with the word Bliss in the title. Cartoon Network's app has it both ways, just in case you want your pain piece-meal. Or is it pain? Let's just get this "bliss" over with.

Part 1 - Find Your Bliss

Written & Storyboarded by: Alicia Chan, Grace Kraft

The special starts with Blossom and Buttercup accusing Bubbles of breaking an award and melting a Candle Man action figure, respectively. Bubbles says it's not her, it's Bliss, a teenager who can't control her emotions!

Blossom and Buttercup don't believe her, because, as a montage shows, she has a habit with making up imaginary friends. But there's no time to worry about Bubbles breaking random things thanks to her "imagination", they got a Space Tow Truck movie to go to! Basically, the writers think 6 year old girls would be into Star Trek. Before they can do that, the Professor tells them to do chores.

While Blossom and Buttercup are able to finish their chores easily, Bubbles can't help but be found with a bunch of broken plates. This time, she blames Bliss's elephant friend, named, according to the captions, Mee! Yes, that will turn into several "Who's On First?" gags, none of which are particularly bad. After a little "pow-wow", Blossom and Buttercup decide to do some drastic measures.

See, as this reboot has proven time and time again, the Powerpuff Girls can easily be stopped by tying them up like Penelope Pitstop. Even the Powerpuff Girls knew this, as all we needed to keep someone who can fly and lift buildings full of people at the same time from causing trouble is a tiny hand truck and some green ribbons. Not the silliest thing that stopped them, by a long shot.

Blossom runs out of popcorn immediately before the movie, and the Professor tries to use his new invention: a pen that could fire lasers, immobilize people, scratch your back, and maybe write! After accidently immobilizing a few kids in the audience, he realizes it's stuck on the immobilization option, and decides to just get some popcorn. This will be important later. Mostly the pen, though the popcorn does lead to a smirk-worthy joke.

Earth Plow, an old-time radio character that the Professor used to like that is somehow real, bursts through the screen, and because this is a 3D movie, we get the obvious joke. Of course, Earth Plow is not too happy about other vehicles that are not of this Earth, and wants to show off that he's still got it by doing a Mark Twain impression. He also has a problem with getting criticized, as he starts attacking with his lasers as soon as everyone starts booing. The Powerpuff Girls intervene, but will they prevail?

Not really, Blossom and Buttercup just can't seem to handle this guy, as he almost instantly traps them with a claw. What's worse is that Bubbles is still stuck on that hand truck and green ribbon of doom. Clearly, someone else has to appear out of nowhere and help them, and that's not something unique to this special. As Earth Plow attempts to run Bubbles over while she yells for Bliss, we get a flash of light, and we finally get the reveal everyone's been waiting for.

Well, that's a slight lie considering a certain Cartoon Network division jumping the gun, but we'll just keep it to ourselves.

It’s Bliss! She has blue hair, because natural hair colors are not cool enough! She has long legs, and yet she essentially has the same body design as her 10-years-younger sisters! And she’s totally not an overpowered fan-character, because just this flash of light was able to blow a villain that easily took care of two Powerpuff Girls out of the theater. Okay, that’s a bad example. I have a feeling this special is going to be full of them.

The Professor comes back with his trashcan full of popcorn that he was, a result of said smirk-worthy popcorn joke, and he finds Bliss. The first thing he does when he finds this new Powerpuff Girl? He calls her "Blisstina", tells her sorry, and zaps her with the immobilization pen. I'll admit, this was a legitimately shocking scene, and a great ending for this part.

By reboot standards, this was a great opening, and it actually intrigued me for future parts. That's something I didn't expect from watching more than 40 episodes of this show, and certainly not something I expected when I watched the initial promos. Where did this Powerpuff Girl come from? What are her special powers? Why did the Professor decide to immobilize her daughter the first time he saw her for years?

All of this will be answered, and I'll say this: if you are thinking this quality is throughout this entire special, this must be your first episode.

Part 2 - Bliss Reminiscence

Written & Storyboarded by: Kyle Neswald, Benjamin P. Carow

It turns out, the Professor put her in a stasis bubble, protecting her from the rest of the world, and protecting the rest of the world from her. This part is all about Bliss's origin story, as told by three different people, including herself. We start with the Professor, and from the first sentence, we can tell that they’re not going to pay any respect to the original. It all started ten years ago...

Envious of "bitter"-never-before-mentioned-"rival" Professor Neutronium’s perfect little boy, who looks like Astro Boy and apparently saves Tokyo on a regular basis, he wanted to make the perfect little girl. So instead of wanting to make the world a better place and/or wanting to have a family, Professor Utonium made the Powerpuff Girls out of envy. Is this the Professor, or Dick Hardly from the original's Knock it Off?

Other than that, it is the all familiar story, complete with animation similar to the original's opening: the Professor mixes together sugar, spice, and everything nice, and somehow manages to knock into a vial of Chemical...W? That does explain why she seems to have powers the Powerpuff Girls don't have, besides "we gotta make her special", but we’re supposed to believe he messed up twice? It gets even worse. Not only did he bumble twice...

...he bumbled 22 other times with 22 other chemicals! This scene raises far too many questions that, unlike previously, will never be answered, as I don’t think they thought further than "Chemical X? Whatever happened to Chemical A through W? Wakka wakka!" There's a slight implication that it might have made at least one monster, but that's all we get.

We also learn that her name isn't just Bliss, but Blisstina Franchesca Francis Mariam Alicia Utonium. At least it's not Blisstina Powerpuff. The father of the year that he is, he even tells the girls we're familar with that Blisstina was his favorite little girl. Buttercup calls him out on this, and he just immediately denies it. Not funny.

Her powers began to evolve, as she starts teleporting around the room. Is this her unique power? Not really, this is just one of her normal powers. It's because she's made of Chemical W, you see. It's not just because "we got to make her special!" That's not the only power she gets, either.

Even as a preschooler, even in the original they're all born preschoolers, roll with it, she can't control her emotions. Literally! Whenever she feels a strong emotion, any of them, she causes a large blue explosion that destroys the house. It all ends with Bliss getting fustrated over not having any milk for her cereal, and causing the whole house to explode. When the Professor woke up, she was gone, and he assumed death. For those in the know, they never mention Bunny. Are you really that surprised?

After the Professor leaves for a reward for "best ham" after promising never to leave Bliss, father of the year, Bliss suddenly wakes up from her immobilization. This stasis bubble being able to prevent her from teleporting, She tells her side of the story, starting with the Professor creating her before the Powerpuff Girls immediately stop her. Bliss actually left the Professor while he was knocked out. She goes to a island because, despite being so powerful, she causes problems!

Specifically, she goes to Bird Poop Island. It's here that she meets Mee, her magical pet friend that will surprisingly have more of a reason to exist other than "we got to make her special!" Even when he demonstrated her ability to self-destruct, Mee didn't care. After 10 years, she finally got homesick, decided to teleport back to her old home, and she found Bubbles and started her "pretend I'm your imaginary friend" game.

As Bliss begs to be let go, it's Reboot Jojo's has to make his appearance in this special, as he posed as the "ham award" giver for the Professor to leave the room. Unfortunately, he is the "ham". No, not really, Jojo, not even if you make this face for no reason:

Sweet dreams, kids.

He decides to tell his side of the story, starting with the time he pushed the Professor right into the chemicals. Actually, they never even get to this, as the Powerpuff Girls immediately tell him to skip to his friendship with Bliss. Judging by this and the extended opening, I’m not convinced they’re even aware of that plot point. Now, I know this is supposed to be a reboot...

...though I'm not convinced the writers know this, but it's one of the biggest aspects that made Mojo Jojo significant as an arch-villain. It's a part that seperates him from being just a silly monkey with a silly hat; he was involved in their creation. To have it pushed aside is just...a stab in the heart.

The silly monkey explains that Bliss was his best friend when he was still an ordinary baby monkey. When Bliss went bye-bye, he was so sad. The end. You know, I would have accepted that the Professor actually bumbled with the Chemical W, and that he missed Bliss so much that he intentionally bumped the Professor when he was mixing the Chemical X. That would have been an okay retcon. Instead, we got...

...that. Reboot Jojo uses this backstory as a reason for Bliss to join him. He hits the lever, accidently opening the garage door. Finally, a decent joke, and it took them this long. He then hits the other lever, freeing Bliss.

The Powerpuff Girls and Jojo try to convince her at the same time, and Bliss feels that's she's about to explode again. She uses her telekinesis for the first time to flip back the lever to use the bubble to protect the house from a huge explosion that makes her disappear again. They don't cry this time, as if they knew she didn't actually die.

To make a long story short, she didn't. She wants to start this family thing, and maybe this will help her control her powers. The part ends with her accidently making the house explode again. Oops.

There wasn't a lot to like about this part besides the garage door gag. While the last part ended with a great twist, the twists and retcons they put with this one just feel like bad jokes at worst, and misguided at best. I can't even respect that this is the first time they even mentioned Chemical X. If there's any good news, it's all uphill from here. A very, very slight one.

See you tomorrow for parts 3 through 5, and my final rating!

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