#plush: Becca

[amitykinz]

A necklace for Becca 💜🩵

[tekabecca114]

Important update regarding the beccatar plushie I got :)

[firstelevens]

#8, things you said when you were crying for the fic meme!

8. things you said when you were crying

this might more accurately be termed 'things you didn't say when you were crying' but that doesn't roll off the tongue as well

When Bucky wakes up, there's a weight on his chest and a sob caught in his throat. His heart is starting to race in his chest and he does his best to slow down his breathing, reaching out to feel around him in the dark like he might find something there to anchor himself.

The first thing that his fingers brush is a woven rug, the tassels at the end worn down to almost nothing. It’s old, clearly, but well taken care of, no pilling or loose stitches. Just beyond it, he feels polished wood, and when he curves his fingers around it, he can feel a short, square post, like the leg of a table. His pillow is cool and wet by his ears, and it takes him far too long to realize that it's from tears that have been tracking their way down his face long enough to leave a trail.

There’s a wooden floor underneath him, cushioned with a plush sleeping bag, and when he pulls his hand back towards him, it brushes against a soft, knitted blanket.

Bucky can sense one of those ugly, choked gasps rising up in his chest, his attempts at even breathing too late to help it, so he tries to tuck his head under the blanket to muffle it as best he can. The tears don't stop, but as he takes shaky breaths with his face pressed against the blanket, his nose is filled with the smell of sandalwood and citrus, something that would be intimately familiar even if he hadn't ended up using that particular soap in the shower for the past few days.

It's Sam's soap, pipes a little voice somewhere in the back of his head. It's Sam's soap and Sam's blanket and Sam's bedroom, he remembers with another shuddering breath. He's in Sam's bedroom, and Sam is asleep just a few feet away, and Bucky is safe here.

Bucky slumps back against the pillow, presses the heel of his hand against his eyes like that'll do anything, but the tears don't stop. The thing in his chest feels more than hollow; it feels like some kind of vacuum, and he doesn't know how to stop it from swallowing him whole.

By now, Bucky's had plenty of practice waking up from nightmares of his time as the soldier, or even before that, back when he and Steve were on the front lines. He's dreamed of Azzano, of Zola, of so many of the people he'd been made to hurt. It's grim, but that's been a part of his life long enough that Bucky has a system for dealing with it.

This hadn't been a nightmare, though, or at least not that kind of nightmare. This time, he'd seen his family, warm and cozy and boisterous in a brightly light apartment. There was Becca stringing popcorn garlands with Evie and Ma putting oranges in Christmas stockings, all of them safe and whole and surrounded by the crackle of the radio. He'd been there, too, right in the doorway, but he hadn't been able to make his feet move closer, and he hadn't been able to touch any of them. Instead he'd watched them with a growing ache in his chest, just out of reach and unhearing, even when he'd tried to scream for their attention.

Bucky blinks rapidly, pushing himself up to sit in the hopes that it'll help him breathe better, but there's no difference. He has a hand pressed to the center of his chest like maybe it’ll stop the pounding, and he almost doesn’t hear the quiet creak of bed springs and the rustling of sheets as Sam rolls over. Bucky's eyes have finally adjusted to the sliver of moonlight coming from between the curtains, and in it he can see Sam silhouetted against the window, pushed up on one elbow.

"Buck?" he whispers. "What happened?"

But Bucky can't make words happen, can't do anything except breathe those shaky breaths. He doesn't know what he'd say even if he could speak.

He must have been quiet for longer than he thought, because he hears Sam mumble a soft curse before the bed springs creak again and the silhouette resolves into someone sitting up at the edge of a bed. "I'm gonna turn on the light, okay?" he asks softly, and then leans over and waits with his hand over the switch like he's giving Bucky a chance to stop him.

When Bucky manages an mhmm, there's a click as the bedside lamp comes on, throwing a soft orange glow around the room. It's just enough light for Bucky to see the pained expression on Sam's face as he looks down at Bucky.

Sam's eyebrows knit together for a minute, and he starts to reach out a hand before hurriedly drawing it back. "Can I touch you, Bucky? Is that okay?"

Bucky nods mutely, and Sam pushes up off the bed and comes to kneel beside him instead. With gentle fingers, he moves Bucky's hair away from where it sticks to his forehead, seemingly unfazed by the cold sweat there. Then, with a knuckle, he brushes away the stray tears on Bucky's cheeks. It's only when he swipes a thumb under Bucky's eye that he seems to realize he's cradling Bucky's face in his hands, and he goes to pull away.

"Sorry," he murmurs. "I didn't realize I..."

But whatever the thought is, Bucky doesn't let him finish. Sam's hands are warm and familiar, the touch of them doing more to steady Bucky’s breathing than anything else has. He's not quite ready to lose that and return to a world where this would never happen. He reaches up with his right hand--his prosthesis set aside when they called it a night a few hours ago--and holds Sam's hand where it is, shaking his head a little.

Sam relaxes, but it's just for a second before he finds something new to be concerned about. "Shit," says Sam, his voice soft. "You're freezing. How come you didn't say you were cold?"

The truth is that Bucky hadn't really realized, but he feels pathetic enough without bringing up the fact that his frame of reference for temperature is wildly skewed thanks to all of Hydra's freezing and defrosting over the years. He just shrugs and hopes that’s enough of an answer.

Generally, Sam is nosier about this stuff, but he lets it slide. “I can try to dig around the closets, maybe the attic,” he says. “See if the kids managed to leave us any blankets after they made their fort downstairs.”

Bucky feels his eyes go wide, his heart kicking up like Sam is proposing walking into a den of lions and not down the hallway of the house he grew up in. Though he schools his face into something else a moment later, it’s long enough for Sam to notice.

He watches Sam’s gaze drop down to where Bucky’s hand holds his in place, and Bucky doesn’t know whether it’s absent or intentional when he sweeps his thumb up and down Bucky’s cheekbone like he knows Bucky’s been matching the rhythm of his breaths to it.

“I mean, we could also–” Sam starts to say, then falters. It’s weird, Sam not knowing what to say. “I don’t want you to feel pressured, and maybe you want space, so I could go sleep in AJ’s room, because I know he’s downstairs with the others, so you wouldn’t have to–”

“Sam,” Bucky manages to croak, and startles him into silence.

But Sam’s eyebrows just knit together, his eyes locked on Bucky’s like he’s trying to read something there. It feels like watching Sam just before he takes to the skies on a mission, like he’s spinning some tactical diagram around in his head and mapping out all the ways something could go wrong, and Bucky realizes suddenly that Sam is nervous.

It should be uncomfortable or tense or something, given how awful Bucky felt just minutes ago, but instead he’s finally got his breathing back under control, the hammering of his heart finally slowed down to something vaguely normal. With the adrenaline rush of the nightmare ebbing away, exhaustion and the late hour are settling over his shoulders, and Bucky doesn’t have it in him to puzzle out what’s happening.

“Sam,” he says again, his voice still hoarse. Once Sam’s gaze has snapped to his again, Bucky turns his head just enough to brush a kiss against the heel of Sam’s hand, soft but deliberate enough to make Sam’s eyes go wide. “What is it?”

The careful way that Sam’s been holding himself relaxes just a fraction as he lets out a long, slow breath. “The bed,” he says softly. “I could- we could share the bed, if you wanted. So you could be warmer.”

Bucky breathes a soft oh of realization, and though there’s already an answer on the tip of his tongue, he takes a moment to really look at Sam. There’s determination in the set of his jaw and tenderness in the way he holds Bucky. His eyes are watchful, scanning Bucky’s expression for something, and he’s got pillow marks running up to his left cheekbone. Bucky wonders if that means they would sleep facing each other. He wouldn’t mind that, he thinks.

The longer that Bucky stays quiet, the warier Sam’s eyes get, but there’ll be time for conversations later. Bucky is just so tired, and Sam’s warmth draws him in even on days when he isn’t chilled to the bone, and the idea of getting to bask in it—in being seen and held and heard, even when he isn’t saying anything—is too tempting to refuse.

He turns and presses another kiss to Sam’s hand, firmer this time, and hears Sam’s breath catch in his throat.

“Okay?” asks Sam, and his eyes are wide and curious like he really doesn’t know how hard Bucky has to work to keep his distance.

Bucky smiles a little, reaching out to hold Sam’s face the way that he’s holding Bucky’s, sweeping his thumb along the cheekbone and abruptly wanting to kiss him there, too.

“Okay,” says Bucky, soft, and feels the bright grin on Sam’s face even sooner than he sees it.

[i-hold-horrors-hand]

Still Important

(aka "Why are you still awake?")

For the Riter's Ghuild fluff prompt.

(Also available on AO3)

"Why are you still awake?"

The unexpected voice jostled Copia from his brooding, causing him to jump slightly and let out a little "ah!" in response. He hadn't noticed anyone coming into his makeshift "office", and was caught off guard. He took a moment to compose himself, smoothing down his suit's lapels in an (mostly unsuccessful) attempt to smooth out his nerves, then cleared his throat.

"I, eh, could ask you the same question."

"I'm awake because you didn't come to bed, and I got worried."

"Ah. Well..." He couldn't counter that.

His Prime Mover, clad in her maternity nightgown and robe, moved from the doorway to the side of the couch, arms folded over her (very) swollen belly, and a look of concern on her beautiful face.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing." Copia made a little show of fussing around with a stack of papers. "Just, eh, working late, you know? Being the big boss means a lot of–"

"Bullshit."

It was every bit a statement, and nowhere near a question. Hell, it might have even been a little bit of an accusation. It annoyed him slightly, but the concerned gleam in his wife's eyes smoothed over the tiny prick of irritation. He dropped the stack of papers back onto his "desk", sat back on the fancy piss-yellow sofa, and threw up his hands.

"Yes. It is bullshit. This whole thing is bullshit!"

"What whole thing?"

Copia ran a gloved hand down his face, and grumbled softly. He was hoping to avoid having this conversation, to avoid having to talk about it, to avoid having to admit things out loud, but...

Larysa was already motioning for him to scoot over, giving her room to sit next to him. He did so, and carefully (and perhaps somewhat overprotectively) guided her as she slowly lowered her heavily pregnant self down onto the plush cushions. After taking a brief moment to adjust her position and settle in, she turned to her husband.

"Tell me what's wrong."

Copia sighed. What wasn't wrong?

"Well," he began, "Eh...my whole life was kind of a lie. I didn't know my real parents even were my real parents until recently. And once I performed my last show as Papa, my mother died. That's what's wrong."

Larysa nodded. "But that's not all."

Another statement, and not a question. He really should have foreseen his wife's in-built Bullshit Detector™ working on him, like it did with everyone else. Oh well.

"No, Rysa, that's not all." He rubbed at his face again, then continued, "I get to take over her job—which I did not want to do, by the way—and get replaced by a twin I never knew I had. Then, we get driven out of our old place by fire, and I don't even have a real goddamn office."

He folded his arms and took a breath, then pushed onward.

"And while I am struggling to figure all of this out...my so-called brother comes in, steals my spotlight and my schticks, and gets all the glory and recognition!" He clenched his fists in anger.

"He 'took us to number one the Billboard chart' right away, but he could never have done that without the groundwork I laid down for years!" He slammed his fists down onto his lap, and felt his anger beginning to give way to sadness, as tears began to well up in the corners of his eyes.

"And nobody recognizes that! Nobody appreciates the blood and sweat and tears I put into being Papa! They all praise him and they don't care about me anymore..."

He slumped back against the couch, closing his eyes and trying to will the tears away. After everything he'd done for the band, for the church, for Satan himself...

"You're still important."

"To who?" Copia asked, bitterly.

"To me, dickhead."

He barked out a laugh at the insult, and opened his eyes, looking over to Larysa, who was rolling her own.

"You're important to me. And Allie. And little Becca. And this one." She grabbed one of Copia's hands by the wrist, and gently placed it on her baby bump. "You're important to us. To our family."

Copia smiled, rubbed his hand in slow circles, and was struck by a soft pang of joy as he felt the baby kick in response.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Larysa reached over to stroke his cheek with her thumb. "You're a loving and supportive husband, and a caring and nurturing father."

Copia felt a sense of pride and warmth swell inside his chest, giving the bitterness and broodiness scant room to stay.

"You formally adopted Allie, at her own request. Becca loves it when you read to her and sing her lullabies. This baby–" Larysa paused briefly and gestured with her chin to her belly, "–loves it when you talk to her. And I..." She leaned over, closer, and gently bumped Copia's nose with her own. "...just love everything about you, Big Papa."

The pride and warmth now grew to the point where it left room for nothing else, and Copia wrapped his arms around Larysa and kissed her deeply, enjoying the softness of her lips and the secure feeling of her arms around him.

"You always know what to say, baby," he murmured into her neck, holding her close. (Or as close as the nearly-to-term fœtus would allow, anyway).

Larysa nuzzled her husband's cheek, then pulled back.

"Okay, now that I've reassured you, can you do the same for me? I can't tell if I just pissed a little, or if my water broke."

Copia snorted a laugh, then kissed her again.

[2econdsof1sts]

The pregnancy hormones make König a little emotional, especially around cute things.

Gaz: Bear, what's wrong? Why are you crying?

König, holding up a little plush cat: She's so small...

They end up buying that cat. They say it's for Becca but occasionally König keeps it in his pocket at work to remind him of his family. Even if his coworkers see it, none of them dare to make fun of him for it.

I’m sorry I got distracted but HE CALLS HIM BEAR??? Omg my heart has melted 🥺🥺🥺

UGH this image in my mind 😭😭🫶 This giant, heavily pregnant, mountain of a man just holding up the tiniest, softest little plush and sobbing cause it’s so cute… If I could draw this would probably be my new pfp I can’t even lie 😭💔

A rookie tried to touch it once when he sees it on König’s desk. Said rookie wasn’t seen in sunlight for a month on latrine duty.

[katzirra]

I think the worst part is like prior to ALL THIS CANCER SHIT, with my own cancer scare I was doing a lot of personal therapy mentally about my mother and my childhood. Processing trauma and anger. And I'm like stuck in that stage right now, because I've spent 20+ years telling my mom to go to a doctor about her uterus. And her quack holistic doctor told her get a hysterectomy or suffer, without doing ANY EXAMS why my 60 year old mother was still bleeding.

So I'm processing anger about my weird childhood, my awful teenage years, the disrespect my whole family gives me, and my anger that while I know there's nothing I could do more than I did for YEARS - that it's her own fault. Her own stubborn fault. And that I learned from that what not to do and be. I stopped visiting my parents because I would get in FIGHTS with my mom about her health and I hated fighting with her.

So all I've been feeling is anger, and sporadic moments of crying for five or ten minutes over the most goofy ass shit.

I cried tonight telling my sister to take a stuffed cat to my mom so she would know I'm thinking of her. A round ball plush the size of a tennis ball that looks like Mina, that Becca got her for that reason. I cried because my mom is scared I'm gonna be angry and tell her I told you so and fight with her about shit, and hasn't wanted to talk to me. I cried because the sentiment I have of having that cat show up, won't register to her.

My sister and I have had this conversation with our mom for years of her being convinced we're gonna fight over her stuff when she dies. We won't because I want stupid shit.

I want her copy of the Godfather that she threatened to make us watch, and I was the first one who said okay and ended up liking it. I want her terrible Subspecies movies, because she loved Radu lmfao GOD. I want trinkets from her desk that I played with when I talked to her constantly, because I couldn't not annoy her. I want the set of earrings I got her that she liked because they made her think of me and her taste. I want my parent's wedding rings because mom's is pretty, and dad's is made from a spoon he's so big - back before it was trendy lol but that won't be until he goes.

I want the little crystal unicorn because I used to make crude jokes with it...

I have my mom's Hannibal books and movies. I have some of her movies she'd never miss but make me think of her. I have the little wood box grandpa made her when she was little... I've had bits of her in my house forever because as much as she was a terrible fucking mother to a gay child until 8ish years ago - she's my mom and I do value things we did together.

I have every scarf she ever made me, and I still know the basics of how to knit a scarf at least because she taught me. I kept every ticket stub for every movie we saw together. I still can't eat milk duds without being scared I'll lose a tooth like I did during the Pokemon movie.

She'll take her shitty chili recipe to the grave unfortunately, because she can never tell me how she makes it. The thing that broke through covid finally...

I don't know how to process my grief and emotions because I have fucked up emotions because of all my trauma in that house emotionally. But I feel immense guilt I cannot properly process this information that my mother will die soon of her own fucking Idiocracy.

I feel bad I got sick and never got to watch that Orson Welles movie with her that she actually made time to make a mother daughter movienight around after I told her I was upset she never set aside time for me anymore as an adult.

I feel upset that the first real compliments I got on my art from her was on a commission, and she ACTUALLY pointed out specific things she liked. And I'm happy it was the one of Rhea for how hard I worked on it...

But fuck it stung that after all this time why now?

All my thoughts kinda keep just coming in like the tide and I'm tired. Like I've made peace with my mom passing - she's been dying my whole life we used to joke, but uh. Man.

Sucks.

[blue-aconite]

my beloved fe. for blurb night, i humbly request i’ve never seen anyone look so cute and ridiculous at the same time for my favorites jake & thea. love you!

Helena, my love, thank you so much for requesting this prompt! I loved writing it and it fits Thea and Jake so well. I hope you enjoy it! Thank you for being one of their biggest fans and always supporting me!

Blurb Night Masterlist

She giggled as she sank down onto the floor, back against the wall and heels still dangling in her hands. The paper tiara was hanging around her neck and her pink ‘maid of honour’ shirt was no longer pink, stained by red wine and blue curacao. She blamed the bride-to-bed. 

Getting off the floor was out of the question but so was calling for her boyfriend. She didn’t want to wake him up, even though he’d probably prefer if she did. He’d even offered to pick her up after tonight’s adventure but she politely declined. If there hadn’t been a mix up at the hotel they were supposed to be staying at, she would have been sound asleep in a plush hotel bed by now. 

The room was spinning, even when she closed her eyes, which made it all worse. Maybe she could crawl? The bathroom wasn’t that far away and -

“Baby, is that you?”

Jake poked his head out of the bedroom, blinking slowly against the hallway light. His hair was tousled by sleep and rubbed his eyes as he approached her, kneeling down by her side. 

Thea closed her eyes again, trying to stop the spinning. “Hi.”

Jake chuckled, pulling a few loose strands of hair out of her face. “Hi baby. What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to stay at a hotel?”

She leaned forward against his shoulder. “Not enough beds. And I was close to home. Told you Becca shouldn’t have planned it.”

Jake snorted, hands coming up to cradle her face. “Can you open your eyes?”

She shook her head and immediately regretted it, as the nausea made itself known. Choking back the uncomfortable feeling in her stomach, Thea groaned, pushing her face further into Jake’s shoulder. “I don’t feel good.”

He pressed a kiss to her head and Thea wanted to hit him because she could feel his lips curving into a smile against her skin. But she also didn’t feel like moving.

“You smell like you’ve bathed in alcohol, so that doesn’t surprise me.” 

Thea didn’t bother with a reply, falling back against the wall again. “I wanna go to bed.”

When Jake didn’t say anything, Thea peeled open her eyes only to find him with his phone out. She reached out towards him trying to grab it but failing miserably. “JAKE!*

He held the phone out of her reach, laughing. “You’re not going to remember this tomorrow. I’ve never seen anyone look so cute and ridiculous at the same time.” 

“Stop being mean and help me.” Thea pouted, closing her eyes again. She tried to take a deep breath, willing the nausea to go away while her boyfriend made fun of her.

“I’m gonna pick you up now, please don’t throw up on me, okay?”

Thea smiled. “No promises.”

[wouldvebeensweet]

current favorite makeup and skincare products? 🥰

OOOOOH fun question

makeup

-wonderskin lipstain in 'whimsical' (if you're on tiktok at all, you've probably seen a million ads for this. its worth the hype)

-under eye corrector! i use the becca one (now sold through smashbox) and it makes me look alive, I've been skipping concealer all together

-lawless forget the filler lip gloss!! def a splurge for a lip gloss, but it's SOOOOOO good. every time I wear it i get asked if I got lip filler. love the shade cherry vanilla, also velvet

-benefit 'wella' plush, makes me look sunkissed

-elf sheer for it blush tint. it doesn't last for me at all on the lips, but It does on my cheeks!

skincare

-aestura 360 ato barrier cream FOREVERRRRRR. i used to be able to get it for cheaper online, but now I gotta get it at sephora bc of the tariffs on yesstyle, etc. best moisturizer EVER

-the skin 1004 centella sunscreen is so good I cried when it stopped selling in the united states and bought 2 bottles from a stranger on reddit

-my new obsession are these mediheal photo enzyme exfoliating pads, I swear my skin looks visibly different when I wake up the next day

-aquaphor always (must be the big tube, small ones don't hit the same. iykyk)

[amitykinz]

I've decided to name her Becca 🪻🤍

[bunnybythesea]

spinning spinning

turning out of control

rolling down a seemingly endless hill

nothing in your path to slow your momentum

you don't see the pit until you're in it

surrounded by pitch black as you fall

deeper and deeper into the ground

you fall for what feels like ages

could be a few minutes or a few hours

an endlessly long time

never appearing any closer to the bottom

your sudden landing shocks you

the ground is soft like a pile of pillows

staying here in this plush nest away from the cruel realities of life seems too good to be true

but you want to stay here

cuddled up forever

but you also want to share this comfort

because what good is a hug unless you share it?

you push yourself off of the ground

as comfortable as it is to bury yourself in the dark

you can’t stay there forever

forever is endless and lonely

the moment of discomfort that awaits is just that

a moment

you wander to a source of light at the edge of the burrow

outside is possibilities

grab them and hold tight

@arcanusamantes @bookmermaidcats @slymanner @sylsoddsandends @dodelidoo @goodartitude @detentiontrack @cute-as-buttons @heart-wit-strength  @arcadiii @iersei @lvmity @yourpersonaltimebomb @reyraccoon @hey-its-puddlesock @darcysd20 @starryemeralds @novelist-becca @marcy-wu-on-the-brain @blightcedas @mira-blue @lili250307 @gayfrogcoven @your-local-hurt-comfort-junkie-1 @walter-wallz @cowcowwow @gumibuki @staravenger7285 @eeveearoace

if you would like to be tagged next time I post a poem please dm me or send an ask saying so!

[littlespacebird]

Meet Rosie (again)

Rosie is a sweet and caring girl who loves making dolls and flowers she has a crush on psychopath giraffe.

She smells like flowers and roses, unfortunately people didn’t care about her, but when psychopath giraffe met her in the pickle mart, she felt like a new friend to him.

Likes: making dolls, flowers, drawing, ice cubes, psychopath giraffe.

Dislikes: Her ex friend Clarissa, messing up while finishing dolls, flowers dying, people who bully her or psychopath giraffe.

Allies: Becca, Veronica, Psychopath giraffe (boyfriend) carol (close friend)

Enemies: Clarissa (worst enemy) Helena, James,

(Holding her little new plush she made while imagining her and psycho G kissing 😖)

[bilightningwhumper]

@flufftober 2024- Day 26: “I can’t find it.”

<<Previous . My Flufftober 2024 Masterlist . Next>>

Plight of the Canary (Mare's story) Masterlist --- SoaS Series Masterlist

Summary:

Excerpt for "Plight of the Canary" (Mare's story) Mare loses her Violet Evergarden plush doll gifted to her by her family

Notes:

Characters: Mare- Bucky and Natasha's daughter, Will's twin Will- Bucky and Nat's son, Mare's twin, Jamie's brother Bucket- Will's support dog Becca- Steve and Bucky's daughter Jamie- Steve and Peggy's daughter Steve Rogers Bucky Barnes Warnings: panic attack

Ao3 link

Word count: 372

Mare PoV

Her room was a mess. But it wasn’t here. Where was Violet?

Whimpering, Mare went into the living room, starting to pull the cushions off the chairs. Faintly behind her, she heard the elevator go off, but she didn’t care. She needed to find Violet.

“Whoa, hey, what’s going on?” Will’s voice asked as the elevator doors closed.

Mare couldn’t keep her voice measured like normal. It was all high and whiny and pitch-y. “I can’t find it. I can’t find Violet. She’s not in my room. And-”

“Hey, hey,” Will took her arms, turning her to him. “Breathe. You sit down with Bucket for a while, I’ll look for Violet. Okay?”

Trembling and sniffling, Mare nodded, wiping at her tears with her shirt before sitting down on the floor to let Bucket lie over her lap.

While Will was looking, Becca and Jamie came up the elevator.

“What happened?” Becca asked, coming over to put her arm around Mare, who was still crying.

“Violet’s gone missing.” Will said from the floor as he looked under the couch.

Humming, Jamie started walking away. “I’ll check my room, maybe she’s in there from the recent laundry load?”

After another half hour of them searching, Mare was starting to get heavily distressed again, even with Bucket and Becca’s attempts to calm her. Eventually, Steve and Bucky came home, too, Bucky nearly dropping the armful of groceries he carried, no doubt effected by her strong sour scent.

Becca told them what was going on while Mare dissolved into tears again. They’d never find Violet. She should have been more careful-

“I know where she is.”

Startled, Mare looked up, swallowing hard as Bucky disappeared down the hall. As Steve got her a cup of water, persuading her to drink some, Bucky came back, her stuffed doll in his hands.

“You left her in our nest after last night,” Bucky explained as he gave her Violet.

Unable to form words, Mare let out chirps and whines, holding Violet close, finally able to breathe easier.

As Becca pulled her close, Jamie and Bucky started dinner, and Will and Steve started working on her brother’s homework, Mare couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so content and loved.

SoaS Taglist:

No one so far

[soupcanspecimen]

Oh hey Youtooz has a Becca plush! I'll totally buy that SO I CAN HAVE A CONSTANT REMINDER OF WHAT WAS TAKEN FROM ME!!!!

[2econdsof1sts]

Gaz: I let Becca watch Spirited Away.

König: It wasn't too scary for her, was it?

Becca: Dad, can we go to the spirit world so I can hug No-face?

Gaz:...I'm going to have to learn how to sew plush.

awwwwwww the BABY 😭🫶🙏🙏

Yes, Gaz, you will. You will. Let your kid hug No-face.

(I have never seen spirited away so I have no idea who no-face is but this is adorable)

[bah-pond]

wuwa! hallo!

no rush whatsoever, can we please get a spotted koi encore (wuthering waves) pack???

you can go completely based on vibes here if wanted! very lively and silly, she mainly has memories of being the "weird kid at school" if that helps?

I was so close to just listening to Warrior Cats map playlists while i made plush ^^

Just a little disclaimer that the alter might not turn out exactly as what is described here below. I hope you enjoy

Name - Encore , Becca , Nora , Norrie , Doran

Gender - :3gender , sillymusicgender , starrycattic , starryxic

Orientation - aroace spec

Age - 9

Prns - she/her , cher/cherish , fond/fonds , posi/positivity , plush/plushie , fuzz/fuzz

Roles - siblings figure , moldbreaker , little

Species - human

Sign off - 🧸🌸🐑🩷

Hexcode - #e36dd3

Like - sheep, plushies, bows, pink + light colors, candy

Dislike - rude people, darker colors, overly spicy foods

Triggers - sheep plushies, wearing bows in hair, music weird kids would listen to, gummy candy

Mbti - ESFP playful, friendly, enthusiastic, spontaneous, tactful, and flexible.

Kin types - sheep, angora rabbit, short-haired cat

[rebbecanotrebecca]

Ok dykes new pinned post

Hi! I'm Electra! That's my name!

I'm a 19 y/o dyke living in Palestine, so no zionist shit allowed!! !

Transmasc transwoman, if that's a problem for yuo... too bad it's noneya business

HEADMATES INTRODUCTION

yea babyy we're actually SEVEN beautiful butches up in here lets goo

Rebbeca! Also called Lilith: dear sweet beloved Becca, they/them zie/ir he/him aylonit, ramgirl extraordinaire

Lilith! Also called Rebbeca: silly sweet beloved Li, goes by Li cuz it's more masc n Hebrew accurate. Zie/Ir He/Him owl dyke. Also a sheep n aylonit, n more importantly a Lilit n a Klipa, two Jewish mythology creatures.

Bubblegum: :D tiny cat plushie from our childhood! Woo! He/him butch boy

Pi: Bubblegum's older sister, bigger girlbossier pink purple plush >:) Zie/Ir He/Him

Flafy: transsexusl dog, asexual penis thief. There isn't much more to say on the matter. They/them.

And last but not least Lexy! An itsy bitsy spider w a sissyphus obsession, keep accidentally referring to myself as Vriska 💀🕷😭 it's chill tho I'm not actually a Vriska kinnie. He/him zie/ir n they/them.

I am also Bubblegum's silly internal boyfriend😌

POWER: Power plushie Strider hehehe let's fucking go

ANYWAYS THAT'S THE INTRO. Written mostly by Becca? N Lexy is writing this last part lmfao. Enjoy the blogggg.

Oh also @plushiestrider is my bro homestuck drag acc. Follow him.