#and totally unaware of it💔

[yuukei-yikes]

in my interpretation haruka looks like just Some Guy but then i remember how everyone makes a big deal abt how hot konoha is and it's so deeply funny

[bitchsister]

I havent seen anyone say this yet but the fact that Croz/bubbles and Croz/Rosie never got their happy ending in EYY either is just as heartbreaking as everything else 💔

I totally agree with you.

Actually, there’s a whole chapter that I scrapped that sort of went into what Crosby was feeling about being different. This chapter was originally how I intended for Curt to find the letter Marge had sent to Gale about the baby, but decided to take a different route altogether and bring Nosie Rosie into it instead.

So, I’ll post it here for you!

It’s not edited, but maybe it’ll help you understand why Crosby never ended up with his boy. (Guilt, internalized homophobia)

The three of them were always good about taking time apart, even if Curt found himself bored out of his mind without Bucky to drink whiskey with or Gale to mutter jokes to, whom he’d crack open bottles of Ginger Beer for with his zippo — because he was a gentlemen, and it was a decent bar trick.

He allowed himself to feel guilt for what he’d done, which was shove the letters Gale had been carrying around with him in his kit for some time now, the stack growing larger each week. Realistically, he rationed that he deserved to know what they’d been talking about — but wouldn’t that mean Marge deserved the same respect?

Perhaps so, but it’d kill her.

Stress isn’t good for the baby, Gale.

Curtis sat in the plaza overlooking the shoreline, his eyes fixated on the sentence he had read countless times. As he nervously bit his fingernails, his mind wandered to a world where he wasn't so intrusive, a world where he remained blissfully unaware of Marge's pregnancy with Gale's baby. He knew this was none of his business, he was well aware, but his body was still full of Gale, and so was his heart

The baby.

The baby.

How long had Gale known?

A chill crackled over his spine like a white hot surge of electricity, a cold sweat washing over him as his hands gripped tighter the letters in his fists. “Baby.” Curtis whispered, his jaw clenched hard enough to make his jaw ache. “A baby.”

His eyes, glazed over and far away had swept across the plaza as if by chance they’d land on something safe — though, Curt had been scarcely aware of what was safe anymore, and what wasn’t. Who could he trust, if he couldn’t trust one of the men he’d laid in bed with that morning?

He wasn’t dense.

He knew Marge hadn’t deserved for her boyfriend to be balls deep in his ass only hours ago, but what Gale had going on with Marge had seemed so far out of his realm; it sounded made up, like a story of what men ought to be, what they’re meant to become — the picture perfect family, the all American man.

One of them Golden dogs, as Bucky had called it, a white picket fence, and an extra room for a nursery, which would be occupied sooner rather than later.

He’d been warned, time and time again — Bucky was right.

Stress isn’t good for the baby.

Curt sighed softly, folding the letters again and tucking them away into his back pocket where they stuck out as he walked the plaza, his arms crossed over his chest as he thought — the halcyon days of being blissfully unaware were over, and now it was time to face the music.

His eyes traced carefully each cobblestone he tiptoed, avoiding the cracks, some kind of splendid predestine leading him to the shopfront of a Gelaterie where it had seemed miles and miles of gelato had been plopped right there, just for him.

And who was he to deny destiny?

He stood in front of the gelato case, happily grabbing at the little spoons he was given by the woman working there who couldn’t seem to stop feeding him samples. Each reaction was better than the last, but he’d eventually landed on pistachio, because it was a lovely green color, and that’s about it.

Back into the plaza he went, licking at the cone in his hand, and then his knuckles once it began to melt. “You aren’t coming to dinner, Curt?” Crosby had jogged to catch up with him, slapping him on the shoulder once he did, “It’s our last one before we go back to base.”

Curt jumped, turning his head to look at Crosby who was already a little pink in the cheeks, probably hopping around with Rosie and tasting wines all day once the rain had stopped. “Why would ya think that?”

“You’re eating ice cream.”

“Well, that don’t mean shit.” Curt mumbled, licking a fat stripe over his cone and sighing, “What’s with you boys and thinkin’ sweets can’t come before supper, huh? That’s how the French do it, I heard.”

“So now you’re a frog?” Crosby reached to ruffle the messy brown waves on Curt’s head, taking note of his leisure attire — he looked like a normal boy, just like anyone he’d gone to school with, no longer the typical vision of a hardheaded pilot in the war. “Whose side are you on, Biddick?”

“Well, if they won’t give me a hundred questions about my eatin’, then yeah.” Curt plopped down at a table near the fountain in the middle of the plaza, watching Crosby sit across from him — he wore a solemn expression, one that Curt had mirrored right back. “You alright?” He timidly rose his eyebrows in his direction, well aware that they couldn’t ignore Bubbles’ absence for the rest of their days.

It didn’t seem right.

They’d both gone mute for awhile, Curt licking at his melting cone and Crosby staring off in the distance at the flying fortresses that were executing some practice runs, departing from other bases neighboring their own.

Still, he held a naive hope that Bubbles would come back, or maybe he’d made it to Switzerland somehow and he’d receive a letter any day now — perhaps even a postcard.

“I loved him.”

Curt looked up from his lap, blinking over at Crosby a few times and although he nodded, he wondered how deep that love had really gone. What were their boundaries — had there been any? Curt whispered, “I know.” As they exchanged a sapient glance. “What about Rosie? He’s been takin’ care of ya, hasn’t he?”

Crosby nodded slowly, his chin resting on his fist when he directed his attention back at Curt again, facing his own music. “He’s kind.” He cracked a smile, a blush creeping over his cheeks and painting even the tips of his ears a pinkish hue. “Hated him at first, though.”

“Don’t he gotta girl back home?”

“Doesn’t Gale?”

Curt’s shoulders deflated, his chin tilting as he chomped on the cone that was becoming a mess in his hand. “Got me there, Crozzy.” He grumbled, reaching in his back pocket and slapping the letters onto the table, a nod in his direction urging Crosby to take a look.

The two of them had never explicitly admitted their involvement with any of the other boys on base, but had seemed to come to an unspoken understanding as time went on. Curt had noticed Crosby getting handsy with Bubbles — and had once caught a glimpse of them behind the showers, to which Curt had warned him in passing, Anything that ain’t behind a closed door or under a roof ain’t safe.

After that, Crosby made sure to keep a curious eye on Curt who had taken a fond liking to Bucky first and then, like a growing cell, they absorbed Gale into their little love amoeba.

“A baby?” Crosby peeked over at Curt from behind the stack of letters, eyes squinted when he folded them back up and tucked them into the envelope decorated with hearts, where they should have stayed. “Well,” he slid them over, “You’re not surprised, are you, Curt?”

Crosby had met Marge, at least a couple times — she was kind, a little conservative, he thought, but it seemed at the time Gale had been looking for that sort of thing. He’d done his parents proud, according to him, and Crosby had thought that was reason enough for the two to be together.

That was most of the relationships he had encountered.

Until Bubbles, of course.

“He never said a single fuckin’ word to anybody about it.”

Crosby sighed, leaning over the table again and scooting closer to Curt who was wiping his hands over a napkin, “It’s better off this way, Curtis.” He whispered, reaching forward to pat his forearm, “Boys like you and I aren’t made to be wives — and boys like Buck are made for a woman.” He realized it may have sounded harsh, but at least he was alive. “And what about Bucky, anyway? We all knew Gale would knock Marge up at some point.” Crosby sat back in his chair then, his arms crossed over his chest. “Guess we just didn’t stop to think it could have already happened.”

“I love Bucky.” Curt nodded quickly, as if to confirm as much. If he had ever made it seem as though he didn’t, he was willing then to set the record straight. “I can’t really put it into words, y’know? Always been bad with that stuff.”

“And Buck makes you feel the same?”

Curt shrugged a shoulder, “I love ‘em. I do. And I know he loves me — it’s different from Bucky, though. It don’t stop me from imagining life after all this, still. Every time I picture it, Buck is there.”

“Delusion is the key to happiness for people like us, Curt.” Crosby shrugged, “I mean, you think Bubs and I would have been married or somethin’? Do you think Rosie is going to drop down on one knee for me someday?”

Maybe, Curt thought, but he stayed silent instead, wide blue eyes locked onto the only other man he’d ever met so much like himself.

“No.” Crosby shook his head, laughing at the thought of it. “Never. And, you know, I might imagine it, too. Picture it, even. A perfect life — our own version of the American dream.” He looked near the little winery on the plaza where he spotted Rosie with Bucky who was grimacing at each drop of liquid he tried, hollering about how he would have preferred a whiskey instead of all this. “But shit like that doesn’t happen, Curt. I’ve made my peace with being a placeholder — it’s just another way I’m doin’ my part in this war.” He reached over again to pat his palm gently over Curt’s sticky knuckles, “A willing piece of ass for the fighting men of the United States of America. It’s a bit more freeing to look at it that way.”

“Right.” Curt looked at the cone in his hand, obliterated from the anxious grip he held it with. He’d be a liar if he said he’d never thought of it that way — it was human nature to seek sexual fulfillment and to a man whose last breath could be any minute, someone else’s genitals may not have been the most important attribute to their company. “What do you think Bubbles would have said, if he heard you sayin’ that?”

Crosby smiled, hunching over the table yet again and knocking the cone out of Curt’s hand, replacing it with a wad of napkins, “I know wherever he is, we’re happy.” Their eyes met, Curt’s curious gaze begging for Crosby to explain himself. “We get to live how we wanted. If heaven is what they crack it up to be — well, that was the heaven we always talked about.”

“Well, why couldn’t ya make that real, Croz? What’s so hard about it?” Curt urged, wiping his hands free of the green sticky mess he’d made of them.

“This world wasn’t made for men like us, Curt.” It had come out in a whisper, as if he hadn’t wanted to say it, but he’d already said it in five million different ways already.

“So, you think heaven is? Don’t gays go to hell, or somethin’?”

Crosby snorted, shaking his head, “I don’t think so.” He mused, adverting his gaze again to make sure the boys who were growing in numbers near the winery were still visible — he’d inadvertently blown their cover, making eye contact with Foxwood. “That’s not how I look at it.”

“Well, you gotta real stupid way of lookin’ at it.” Curt had refused to believe his daydreams could never come to fruition — without hope, they had nothing.

“Hey! Croz!” A voice called out, making Curtis groan into his lap. “Curt! Get your asses over here!”

“Ah, I think we’re being summoned.” Crosby stood and followed Curt to the fountain where he stuck his hands under the spray, washing them clean. “You don’t have to live your life for anybody else, Curt. Live it for you. We fear dying too often for it to be any other way.”

“That’s what I thought I was doin’, idiot.”

“No,” Crosby nudged his shoulder, “You’re livin’ for everybody but your goddamn self. You stole those letters. Was that even somethin’ you needed to know?”

“I think so.” Curt turned and shook his hands dry, nudging into Crosby to push him to walk first.

“Nah.” Croz shoved his hands in his pockets, his sights trained on every step they made as to not meet the eyes of the boys who were watching them. “But now that you have, you need to talk to him about it.”

Their conversation had ended there, the two of them finding their respective seats that had been saved, one next to Rosie, for Crosby, and one in the middle of Gale and Bucky for Curtis.

Once they’d all gotten themselves good and wine drunk, Crosby had been the sensible one to raise a finger, “Fellas, fellas! We gotta nice dinner tonight. Behave, behave.” He swatted some of the wine out of hands, even stole a few glasses from those who seemed to be a little too drunk for five o’clock in the afternoon. “Pay the sweet people and let’s get a move on. I have to shower, Curt got his ice cream hands on me.”

The walk back was a stumbly one for just about everyone and yet Curt had still taken care not to step on any cracks in the cobblestone, still sharp as a thumbtack and thinking again and again about what he’d say to Gale, or if he’d say anything at all.

A placeholder, a willing piece of ass, like Crosby had said.

Perhaps there was truth in that.

“You okay?” Bucky asked once they’d made it back into their apartment, Gale locking himself behind the bathroom door to get himself ready for dinner, leaving the two of them alone. “Been quiet.” He stood in the threshold as he watched Curt gather his things and drag them into an unoccupied room down the hall, grunting all the while.

“Fine.” Curt murmured, pushing past Bucky again to grab his shirt, which he’d forgotten, and the towel he’d claimed as his own.

“Don’t look fine.” Bucky walked behind Curt at a distance that he hoped wasn’t smothering, but he was cautious as ever now that he’d seen what could happen when Curt’s mood changed.

“I’m great.” Curt stood in the middle of the room he’d picked, painted blue and decorated with tacky old lamps and a dresser that couldn’t hold his weight like the other one could. “Any more questions I could answer for ya, John?”

“Woah,” Bucky waved his hands, “Don’t go all government name on me now, Curtie. You’re movin’ your shit out of the room like a pissed off girlfriend.” He watched Curt’s shoulders tense in that very instant, his body slowly turning to face Bucky who was drunk, and stupid looking.

“I’m not no fuckin’ girl.” Curt threw his crumpled shirt at Bucky, and then a shoe from his left foot which Bucky had caught, despite the wine that had stained his lips red. “And I never fuckin’ will be.” He took his right shoe off and threw it, too. And then a pillow, and an old, broken alarm clock which Bucky had dodged by a hair.

“Good thing you aren’t a gunner, Baby. Your aim is tragic.” Bucky narrowly dodged yet another piece of decor flying toward his head, an angry and red in the face Curtis stomping toward him.

“Don’t call me that.” Curt’s jaw had clenched again, his fists balled at his sides as he stood before Bucky, neck craned upward to look at him. “Don’t fuckin’ call me that. I’m not your baby, and I’m not your fuckin’ girlfriend.”

Bucky’s expression had changed then to all five stages of grief, and just about every emotion he’d ever felt. “Of course you’re my baby.” He whispered, reaching his hands forward to grab onto Curtis who swiped them away.

“Who you got at home, Bucky? Somebody I don’t know about? You get some bird pregnant, too?” Curt surged forward again, poking at Bucky’s chest to taunt him. “Oh, better yet — you probably knew, huh? Didn’t ya?” He was bordering hysteria and yet Bucky wouldn’t back away from him. In fact, he stepped closer. “You told me about that fuckin’ nursery. Probably did it so I wouldn’t be surprised when I found out. Hm? Admit it.”

“What are you talkin’ about, Curt?”

Curtis yanked the crumbled envelope from his back pocket, covered in sticky melted gelato from earlier and shoved it into Bucky’s chest where he’d been poking him. There was no way he’d be able to feign innocence now — he’d stolen them, read them, and now he’s taking their contents out on Bucky who unfolded the papers and scanned the neat cursive writing.

Stress isn’t good for the baby.

His eyes met Curt’s again. “I didn’t know.” He whispered, thumbing through the pages and finding the first letter, one that had been dated nearly ten months back. If his limited knowledge about pregnancy was correct, then Marge had already given birth by now and Gale was a father, not soon-to-be. “These letters are old, honey. From before we ever—“

Curt ripped them from his hands again, “I don’t give a fuck!” He shouted. If he could see himself, he’d feel embarrassed. “How does that make anything better, huh? Some poor innocent baby’s militant, absent daddy.” He threw his arms up, the letters falling at their feet in crumpled heaps. “Who likes to watch his friends fuck. Oh - not just that, huh? Not just that.” He shoved Bucky’s chest with his hands then who tried again to catch his wrists and pull him in, “Not just that.” His voice wavered, his cheeks were red, “We promised what we did when we went all the way was for us, Bucky. Nobody else.”

“Are you sayin’ you didn’t want to fuck him?”

Curt growled with anger, shoving him yet again but that time Bucky had caught him by the forearms which he twisted behind Curt’s back, pressing him against the wall and holding him there. “Stop it.” Bucky’s voice was firm, his knee pressing into the base of his spine to prevent him from wiggling free. “Fucking stop it, Curtis.” He listened to Curt whine and huff out of his nose, body wiggling to try and break free. “I’m not leavin’ you. You won’t sleep without me. I’ll sleep at your door, Curt. Try to get rid of me all you want, you can’t.”

Curtis groaned, his cheek squished against the wall, “This world ain’t meant for people like us.” He whispered, relaying to Bucky the exact sentiment Crosby had fed him earlier. Each word had tasted like pistachio, burned so viciously into his memory.

He felt sick, in more ways than one.

“Maybe it’s not.” Bucky leaned his head against Curt’s shoulder but kept him pinned to the wall, his maneuver softening just slightly from that of restraint to more of a forced embrace. “But we’re together in that, aren’t we?” He nuzzled his face into Curt’s neck, murmuring against his damp skin. “You can’t get rid of me. I’ve already lost you once.”

Curt had never liked to cry. Rarely ever had he let anyone else so much as see a mist in his eyes whenever they’d watch an old film in the mess hall, or even when his friends never made it back. When he fell as a child, he never made a peep — but it seemed all that had built up, the pressure hitting its high and causing him to erupt.

He was eventually turned around by Bucky who held him, swiping the letters under the bed with his foot as to not bring Gale into all of it just yet, though he couldn’t help but to wonder how dinner would go that evening — Curt was bad at hiding his emotions and Bucky had never been the most skilled at pretending nothing was wrong when there certainly was.

[silent-wolf]

ranking the batfamily on whether i would be friends with them irl 😁: (ps this is all just a jokey joke so pls dont take this seriously 😇)

7. damian

guys im sorry

love the little demon but he would probably kill me for making ur mom jokes

hes got spunk if u consider it being mildly homicidal thoughts at every constant minute

probably the friend i would not consider going for lunch with cuz he’ll give me a dirty look for eating like a pig 

he would be a good tutor tho, my saving grace in calculus

but he would make me cry by the end of that session cuz i cant divide to save my life 💔 6. jason

he’s a fucking theatre kid

AND an english nerd, like pick a struggle man 😭

it might be residual high school eng trauma but i cant be friends with someone who genuinely likes english

honestly tho, i wouldn't mind hanging out with him outside of school

i just dont know what we would have in common to talk abt

gym classes with him has to be fun tho

he would probably kick my ass at every game, but thats besides the point 5. cass

shes scary asf, but shes hot so its okay

i would probably have a hallway crush on her

shes probably in the friend grp, but has other friends shes closer with

rlly fucking good at pe and doesnt hesitate to show off

probably skips a bunch of classes but no one says anything

would probably hang out more as a grp than one on one

the only person i would consider giving my house keys to 4. dick

the sweetest guy in the grp

i would assume he was just a nice guy at first but he is just rlly genuine 

would be the subject of ridicule because of his god awful fashion sense

is a senior but hides in the junior classes cuz girls always chase him around asking for his number

is the mom of the friend grp and always carries around protein bars, tissues, and basic first aid 

always does wellness checks and picks up on the first ring if u need anything. bless him <3

my emergency contact 3. duke

would be one of my closer friends

the perfect balance of obliviously unaware and stupidly concerned

i would ask him for hw answers only for him to text back with a question mark

he was the sacrificial lamb who was made to sit in the first row in class

ends up falling asleep and gets detention 😔 if anyone asks tho, its because he did smthin super scandalous and totally not school appropriate 👍

we became chem lab partners, but fucked up freshman level titrations so many times, that the teacher kicked us out

has the best packed lunches (thank u alfred)

i steal his lunch and he ends up eating shitty cafeteria food 👍 2. steph

MY LITERAL 4LYFER 🤞

her fashion sense>>. but dont be fooled, most days she throws on a ragged hoodie that way too soft to be legal

has a billionare on her side, but still steals MY mcdonalds fries

always carries around extra hair ties 

comes over so often that there is a steph size dent on my bed, where she would flop down

has the prettiest notes which are a life saver for last minute cramming

the friend you would go to experiment different makeup styles on 

my partner in crime for any tom-foolery 

would make me snort during class which sends us to detention 

tim

i would fucking hate him at first glance

but somehow we would bond through our shared trauma of high school calculus 

the type of friendship where u would go on spontaneous road trips a week before finals, only to end up stranded in a random petrol bunk

a responsible adult (read: alfred) would then come to pick us up after we call them in literal tears

a weekly tradition of trying the most grotesque slushy concoctions 

cannot for the life of him memorise shakespeare, but can recite word for word every iconic vine in existence 

would tutor me in chemistry, only to end up in tears at my incompetence 😭

extremely introverted but suddenly becomes the loudest person ever when it comes to embarrassing someone

[nikibogwater]

Niki Blethers: Daniel Spellbound season 2 First Impressions:

Okay, Netflix, you guys seriously need to get your advertising act together because I was completely unaware that this show had been confirmed for a season 2, let alone that it was already out. 

Uuuuuuggggghhh, the character/monster design is still SO FREAKIN’ GOOD.

I love how Daniel just throws Hoagie at every gross/dangerous thing they encounter. The little snot has had it coming for way too long.

So it looks like it’s been a little while since the ending of the first season, which I wasn’t expecting. Considering the last episode of season 1 ended with Daniel booking it for his life from the Tracker’s Guild, I assumed we’d pick up right where we left off. But I actually kind of like the timeskip here. Daniel is no longer panicked and confused, he is just downright desperate, and quickly losing hope.

Aww, I’m really loving Lucy here. She’s very driven and passionate, and really wants to change the magical world for the better. And I love that Daniel and Hoagie are the only ones she trusts enough to tell about her ambitions. 

Aaaaaand there’s the forced character conflict. -_- 

Hey kids, you ever heard of this new-fangled thing called communication? You should try it some time. Really makes things a lot easier. 

What--HOAGIE DON’T STOP HER. SHE WAS TRYING TO APOLOGIZE! 

Okay, fine, I will give Hoagie a tiny bit of credit, he and Daniel do finally get a moment to just talk to each other, and Hoagie reassuring Daniel that he’ll stick with him no matter what was sweet (if a little bit unearned...) 

Kind of undermined by the fact that he just prevented Daniel and Lucy from clearing up a misunderstanding that is clearly causing Daniel even more grief than he already has to deal with but OKAY MOVING ON TO MORE POSITIVITY!

I adore Shak. She just radiates Chaotic Youngest Child energy. An overeager, inexperienced, sassy little spitfire. She must be protected at all costs.

Oh, she’s looking for her long-lost big brother... 🥺💔

OH??? OH WHAT’S THIS???? IS THAT A FOUND FAMILY BROTHER-SISTER DYNAMIC I SEE FORMING BETWEEN DANIEL AND SHAK?????? 👀

Wow, okay, I forgot that sometimes this show can be surprisingly brutal. Daniel getting impaled by those magical spears caught me totally off-guard (but in a good way). 

Also I would like to re-iterate a point I made in a past Blethers post: Daniel is a Whump-magnet. I haven’t checked the fanfic community for this show yet, but I’d bet a nickel that it’s mostly Daniel Whump fics. 

As critical as I get with this show, I do genuinely enjoy it, and finding out there was already a second season out was a really nice surprise. I feel like some of my criticisms of season 1 are already being addressed, and that makes me hopeful that Daniel Spellbound will keep improving throughout its runtime. Again, I do recommend this show for anyone who enjoys animation. Even with its flaws, it’s still a very fun and creative romp with really likable characters (sans Hoagie) and a fascinating world.

[artsytattletail64]

About Baby Plum (or Tattletail)

🍇 Name/Full name 🍇

Baby Plum (or Tattletail)/Baby Talking Lilac Periwinkle Grape Tattletail "Plum" Tattletail (Or simply just... Baby Plum.) (I purposely made his full name as RIDICULOUS as possible xD)

💝 Nicknames 💝

"Plump" (Butternut) "Um" (Lavender) "Tattletail" (Everyone) "Bossy Big Brother" (Butternut)

🎁 Birthday 🎁

February 25th

✨ Age ✨

Normally an older kid/younger teen (14?), but his age depends on the au/story

Gender

Male

💜 Personality 💜

A sneaky, sassy little fella, sweet, loving, caring, sometimes overprotective, sometimes bossy, and a bit of a glutton

❤️ Likes ❤️

Cookies, his family, taking care of babies (Lavender, and his baby sister, Velvet,) hanging out with his siblings and friends, protecting his family, Snowglobe, Christmas, playing outside, helping Mama bake, singing, his cap, sneaking cookies, being sneaky in general, the treehouse, food, eating food, snacks, treats, did i mention food yet?

💔 Dislikes 💔

His killing(?) mode (idk what to call it), ANYTHING that could harm his family, his RIDICULOUS full name, the dark, Butternut's teasing, being made fun of, water, being unable to swim, getting caught sneaking cookies, getting in trouble, being scolded, being grounded, """girly""" things

💕 Crush 💕

Snowglobe

About

Plum is a sassy little fella, but he's also very sweet. He's very sneaky, and, since he can be a bit of a glutton at times, he likes to sneak cookies and snacks a lot. He also has his mother's temper, but, he doesn't get mad TOO easily... but when he DOES get mad, RUN. He loves his family very much, and will do absolutely anything to protect them. Sometimes he can be a bit bossy, since he is the oldest sibling and all. He also has a MASSIVE crush on his friend, Snowglobe.

He takes a lot from his mother, like her freckles, her ABSOLUTE WILDNESS, her temper, and... unfortunately... her killing(?) mode, too. Plum absolutely HATES his killing(?) mode, but doesn't hesitate to attack someone/thing if he has too.

Because of his killing(?) mode, Plum often worries that he is scary, and sometimes (though he doesn't tell his family about these feelings,) sees himself as a monster. (This is also how his mother feels about herself, due to her killing(?) mode.) Sometimes, since Plum can be overprotective sometimes (again, like Mama,) he mistakes things that AREN'T threats for threats, and attacks them. Due to these mistakes, and his killing(?) mode in general, he feels like a monster at times. (Just like his mother...)

Plum is also very strong! (again, like Mama is.) He's totally unaware of his strength, though, and sometimes it confuses him! Basically, Plum is like a mini Mama... they're VERY similar!

He is the shortest and chubbiest of his siblings. He is the shortest, despite being the oldest, so, he gets made fun of for this a lot. He cannot swim, which he ALSO gets teased for. Aaaand... he is the chubbiest, so he ESPECIALLY gets made fun of for that. (His sister, Butternut, does 95% of the teasing. She likes to call him "PLUMP," which he HATES.) He just gets teased a lot by his siblings in general (ESPECIALLY by Butternut.)

[saltothearth]

Thank you for that explanation. I didn’t actually know that happened - I was already against IVF for other reasons like I don’t believe it’s a natural way God would intend and it seems wrong to “buy” a child even if it’s not how most people see it but yeah I didn’t think about how they discard multiple in the process 💔

Most people are totally unaware of it. I sympathize with your views as well. I think it would be best if we kept white labcoats away from reproduction as much as possible.

[cornneell]

Those Eyes

I took a bite of the orange she had given me, savoring the interplay of sweet and sour flavors on my tongue. But the numerous seeds that kept getting in my way were starting to get on my nerves. I'm not a fan of seeds, not in the slightest. 

Despite this, I couldn't help but be entranced by her sweetness. I love it so much. I love her smile, I love the scar marks she has on her forehead, I love the cracks that she has on her teeth.

I love it when she makes that  crossed eye silly face when I tell her that she is beautiful. I love the view of the sky when I put my head on her lap. I love that mole she has on her cheekbone that she was totally unaware of until I told her. I love the side-eye she gives me when I try to kiss her.  I love;

I took the final bite of the orange, I felt a pang of regret. I don’t want it to end, just like I didn't want this moment to pass. But I know that everything is finite, and it all has come to an end.

I don’t ever want her to find out about this writing. I don’t ever want anyone to know how those eyes make me feel. 💔