21 January 2012

he says, she says
: her voice of adieux

Buttercup is human, and humans ( except for her sisters and the professor, she believes ) are not perfect—be it physically, emotionally, mentally;
Buttercup knows she is the definition of imperfect.

.

Her hair isn't long and sleek and soft like Blossom's and it never cooperates and adjusts ( even when messy) like Bubbles'. No, her hair is thick and lined with split ends and it stands in directions she wishes it didn't.

Her facial structure isn't sophisticated and elegant like Blossom's and most certainly not serine and innocent like Bubbles'. No, her brows are arched, eyes with their general flare. If anything her expressions are spiced ( though it's not like she finds that a very welcoming quality ).

Her smile doesn't capture and tickle the people around her like Blossom's and it never has the reserved attractiveness of Bubbles'. No, her smile is crooked and smirked with just a hint of mischief, and that's not really what society wishes to see on the mouth of a "lady."

Her body isn't cut and molded in all the right places like Blossom's and it doesn't match the petite and subtle hourglass of Bubbles'. No, her body is toned and athletic; arms and legs textured; stomach tight. Nothing feminine about that at all.

Her hands aren't a creamy, flawless color with fingers slender with kept nails like Blossom's and not soft and small with new colors and designs every week like Bubbles'. No, her hands are calloused and scarred, nails short and chipped.

Her voice doesn't flow in the honey-glazed femme of Blossom's and it doesn't skid with the gentle coon of Bubbles'. No, her voice only fits in the category of attractive, she thinks, because of its rasp and nightly feel.

Her grades and attendance never earn her awards and recognitions like Blossom's and they're never in the range of A's and perhaps a B or two like Bubbles'. No, she has grades suitable to represent the ABC's.

Her sociability isn't as versatile as social-butterfly Blossom's and doesn't earn her a vast degree of friends and acquaintances like Bubbles'. No, instead she has links to people in cities and towns two hours from Townsville, dealers, mechanics and all civilization. Anything other than gossipers and professionals.

Her manners aren't as respectable as Blossom's and they aren't put to use like Bubbles'. No, she's rude and shameless and she knows it.

Her compassion isn't as empathetic and rounded as Blossom's and never as sympathetic and selfless as Bubbles'. No, she's awkward, selfish and protective, and she doesn't know whether that's a good or a bad thing.

Her sensitivity isn't as kept and sealed as Blossom's and it doesn't break and spill as easily as Bubbles'. No, her emotions lash out with impulse and they scribble themselves onto her expressions without her knowing.

Her femininity isn't as admirable as Blossom's and she thanks God it isn't as noticeable as Bubbles'. No, she's not even near what people define as feminine and she thinks she's finally grown to accept that.
.

Butch likes to laugh at Buttercup when she screams at him that she's not perfect ( playfully, that is ) if he happens to tug at a wire or two. He laughs and laughs and laughs because he knows it's true.

It's true and it's what he loves the most about her.

.

Her hair, he tells her, is the most amusing thing to run his fingers through because he likes the challenge of making it past the knots and streams.

Her expressions, he tells her, never bore him because he always loves getting a good laugh at their diversity.

Her grin, he tells her, is the stupidest thing he's ever laid eyes on and he thanks her for it.

Her body, he tells her, is attractive and he doesn't care what contradictions she has to say about it.

Her hands, he tells her, hold a scrapbook of stories that he wants her to share with him—and just like they happened, too.

Her voice, he tells her, has the sexiest ring to it when she's tired.

Her grades, he tells her, are better than his and she should embrace that.

Her sociability, he tells her, makes her an interesting woman to travel and be with.

Her manners, he tells her, are horrible and he thinks it's damn hilarious.

Her compassion, he tells her, is no better than his own and people should forgive them for it ( the bastards ).

Her sensitivity, he tells her, adds some spice to her life and she shouldn't deny it.

Her femininity, he tells her, is the most captivating thing he has ever laid eyes on and interacted with, ever, and yes, she is indeed feminine but just on another level, that's all.

.

Don't you dare change, he says to her when she's grinding at her bottom lip with a smirk. Just do me a favor and don't.

She has never dreamed of such a sin.

Disclaimer: Credit for The Powerpuff Girls belongs to Craig McCracken.