Jonna not posting Splossom content? Is this a dream? No, it's not, because I'm posting Sniffles content this time, yay!

Review responses:

VeronicaWeasley: I did not plan on Blossom having the same birthday as Les, but it's amazing. Heheh, I tried to make Blossom relatable and apparently it worked! Why was the first thing I imagined Blossom in Subway Surfers? SPECS CALLING BLOSSOM SUNFLOWER EEEEEEEEEEEEEH! MAGICAL WIZARD BOY SPECS AND PRINCESS BLOSSOM!

Newsies Square: SPLOSSOM YAYYYY

Sniffles Story

He may have only been nine at the time, but Edward could replay the memory clear as a movie in his mind. He was sitting on a chair in a bright, white room. The doctor was looking at his test results, a serious look on his face. "It's all gonna be okay Eddie," his dad whispered, taking his son's hands. His mother was lovingly running her hand through his messy hair.

"Mr. and Mrs. Baldwin, can I talk to you outside?" The doctor asked. Edward's parents stood up, giving their son one last glance before leaving him alone. He could still see them through the glass door, but understanding what the doctor said was impossible. He saw his mother burst into tears as his father started asking more questions. Not being able to know what was wrong with him made him nauseous.

"So Edward," the doctor started as he walked back into the wihte room. "We got the test results back, and I'm very sorry to inform you that you have been diagnosed with active tuberculosis."

That was the moment every part of Edward's life came crumbling down.

Everything started changing. He had to stay away from the household staff and couldn't go to school anymore. He became noticeably more tired and weak as he coughed up more and more blood. He barely ate and got even less sleep, if he slept at all. He was put on several different types of medication but none worked. It got to a point where he couldn't even go downstairs anymore. This went on for a year and as his condition worsened, so did the family's financial situation. It got so bad, his father needed to return to his job in the army.

Edward insisted on saying goodbye by the door despite his health. As his father kissed his forehead one last time he handed Edward a package. "Open it tonight," he whispered, before leaving without looking back.

That night Edward was alone in his room, the only light coming from the moon outside. He carefully opened the package. He was surprised to see that it contained a copy of Little Women, a book he already owned. Opening it he saw the message written inside.

"Dear Eddie,

I'm so sorry I had to leave you in a time like this. I hope you can forgive me. I know you already own this book, but I wanted to give it to you anyways. This copy used to be mine, it was my favorite book growing up. I made a bunch of notes and it's practically falling apart, but it's still one of my, now your, most prized possessions. My father gave it to me on my 12th birthday, but given the current circumstances I will give it to you now.

You're so brave, Edward, please never forget that. I love you with all my heart. Stay strong.

Love, your father

PS. When I come back, tell me what you thought about the book, I'm excited to hear your opinion"

Holding the book close to his chest Edward started sobbing uncontrollably. Reality suddenly came crashing in harder than it ever had.

He was slowly dying, his father was going to die in a war, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

A week after he turned eleven Edward's mother knocked on his door, a big smile on her face. "Ed, can I come in?" She asked. Without waiting for an answer she walked in. Her son was sitting in bed, reading his favorite book. He'd been doing nothing but reading since his father left. Not that he could do much else.

"What's wrong?" He asked, looking up. The bags under his eyes were even bigger than usual.

"There's nothing wrong sweetie," his mother sat down next to him and handed him a letter. "Remember when the doctor said that we tried all the medication possible?" Edward nodded, not daring to hope much of this conversation. "Well, that wasn't entirely true… there is another type of medication, you just weren't completely ready for it, but the doctor thinks you might be able to handle it now." The smile on his mother's face was the only thing Edward needed to see to confirm that this wasn't a joke.

"So, you're saying…."

"There's a chance!" His mother exclaimed. She hugged her son who hesitantly hugged back.

"Is he- is he sure?" He asked, feeling tears build up in the corner of his eyes.

"He is."

And so Edward was once again put on medication. Only this time it actually seemed to work. He seemed to get happier and livelier. Within a year he almost seemed like his old self again. Things started to get better. They got better and better, until his last doctor's appointment.

"So, Mr Baldwin. It seems like you are getting better, which is of course great!" The doctor started. "But… the tuberculosis did seem to have an effect on your immune system."

"Oh, but that's alright, just dress a little warmer, darling, and-"

"Actually," the doctor interrupted her. "It does seem to be… a little more than that. See, your immune system has been severely affected, Mr. Baldwin. You could get fatally sick from a simple cold. We can offer you a place in a home specially designed for kids in situations similar to yours-"

"No." Edward stood up. "No way. I am not going to a home, I'm perfectly fine! I can't… I'm not- mom!" Edward turned to his mother, looking for any kind of response.

"Now honey, let's think about this…."

"What?!" Any kind of response except for that one. "You're seriously thinking about putting me in a home?"

"Now, Mr. Baldwin, you have to understand this is for your own good-"

"I am twelve! I should- I should be at home doing kid stuff! I've already lost so much of my childhood, how can you-... how can you even think about taking away more?"

"Eddie, please…." His mother put a hand on his shoulder, which was roughly shoved away.

"No! I'm going home. My actual home." Edward opened the door to the doctor's office. "Let's hope I don't die because I bumped into a cat!"

"Edward!" He completely ignored his mother's voice as he walked out of the office. As soon as he set foot outside, he fully realised what he'd just done.

Oh god, what had he done?

He started running, wanting to get home as soon as possible. This was not how everything was supposed to go. He was supposed to be better. To go on with his life without any other medical complications. Hadn't he been through enough? And now they were thinking about putting him in a home. No. As long as he was alive he would not be put in a home. It wasn't that bad. He just had to not get sick. That wasn't that hard… right? But, according to the doctor it was. He'd said that he could die from a cold. Something as simple as a cold could kill him now. He could already see the gravestones in his mind.

First his father's:

Here lies Christopher Baldwin,
He died saving the lives of hundreds of people, may he rest in peace.

And then his own:

Here lies Edward Christopher Baldwin,
He died because it rained a little too hard.

Before he knew it, he was home. When he arrived inside his mother was already waiting for him at the table.

"Mom… how did you…"

"I have a car, Edward. Sit down, we need to talk." his mother gestured at the seat next to her.

"I'm really sorry, mom, I didn't mean to…" he apologised.

"I'm sure you didn't mean to, but that doesn't change the fact that you did it anyways," His mother said. "And it doesn't change the fact that… the doctor and I talked about it and… we think it's best if you go to that home."

"No! No, I already said I'm not going!" Edward exclaimed. "Why would you-"

"Because you could die if you stayed here! Please, understand I- I can't lose anyone else." It was like his mother was begging him to go.

"I… I can't, I'm sorry." Edward ran upstairs to his room. His own mother wanted to send him away. How could she want to send him away? She was his mother, she was supposed to have his back. He grabbed Little Women from his desk and reread his father's message to him. He reread it until he noticed the tears that fell onto the paper. After he'd closed the book his eyes fell onto his bag that was laying in the corner of his room. He could always-

No. He couldn't do that, not to his mother. She'd be crushed. Though, she wanted to send him away anyway…. She'd have to miss him then too. The difference wasn't that big… right? Slowly he made his way over to the bag. It was large enough to carry everything he needed. With every passing minute the idea of running away got more and more appealing. Everything was better than being sent away.

"Last Christmas, I gave you my heart. But the very next day, you gave it away!" Crutchie sang joyfully as he limped his way back to the lodging house. He'd just gotten a new pair of crutches as a gift from Jack that morning, and nothing could ever bring his mood down. Humming several other Christmas songs he looked around the streets. It was getting late and the last few people were getting their last-minute Christmas presents. The Christmas lights, the snow, the joy on people's faces, it was all amazing to Crutchie.

"Deck the halls with-"

"Achoo!" Crutchie was interrupted by a loud sneeze. He turned around, trying to look for the person who'd made the sound, but he couldn't see anyone. He was about to continue on his way when he heard it again.

"Achoo!"

The street was almost entirely empty, and none of the people seemed like they'd just sneezed.

"Achoo! Achoo!"

That's when Crutchie saw him. Curled up, on the corner of the bakery was a boy, not much older than 11. God, he looked terrible. As Crutchie approached him, the boy only looked worse. His face pale as a ghost, he was wrapped in an old coat that didn't seem to bring much warmth, and on his head was a hat that seemed way too big.

"Hey, little fella," Crutchie said. The boy looked up and gave a weak smile. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm just-" The boy interrupted himself by coughing violently.

"No, you're not. Do ya have a home?"

The boy shook his head.

"How 'bout ya come with me? I know a place where you can stay," Crutchie offered, summoning his sugarsweet smile. No one ever refused when he smiled. The boy nodded and attempted to stand up. Immediately his legs gave up and he fell onto the ground again. "Oh gosh, I'm sorry…. Lemme go get help, don't move!" And with that Crutchie left.

"There he is! Come quick, I don't think he's doin' very well we need ta help him!" Crutchie yelled.

"I'm comin'! I'm comin'!" Specs ran after him.

"Hey, little fella I brought help," Crutchie smiled, but the boy didn't answer. "Specs, quick!"

Specs quickly kneeled next to the boy. "He's ice-cold. Crutchie, why don't ya go ahead and tell Kloppmann?" Crutchie nodded and left.

Picking up the boy, Specs noticed how light he was. "God fricking damnit, that can't be healthy."

Crutchie, who'd been surprisingly fast, was already waiting at the door when Specs arrived. "Come in quick!"

The boy, who was by some miracle still conscious, was wrapped in several blankets and seated on the couch in the living room.

"Does he have a name?" Jack asked.

"I dunno, he didn't tell me." Crutchie handed the boy a cup of hot soup. The boy mumbled something, but they couldn't quite understand it.

"Ya gotta talk a bit louder if ya want us ta understand you," Henry said.

"Edward... But you can call me whatever-" He stopped to sniffle for what must've been the tenth time since he'd arrived at the lodging house.

"Oh, he needs a nickname!" Race exclaimed.

"But he ain't a newsie."

"Who cares, if he stays, he's gonna be a part of da Duane Street gang and he needs a nickname!"

"Race is right, I propose Sniffles." Albert made a dramatic gesture with his hands.

"Oh, that sounds nice! What do you think?" Elmer looked at the boy.

"I like Sniffles," he said and smiled a weak smile.

"Well, welcome to the Duane Street gang, Sniffles."

BOOM

Sadness

Sniffles

YAYYYY

(do leave a review telling me your thoughts, it would be greatly appreciated)