#actually nevermind i refuse to acknowledge this as art

[suddenlymicah]

tried drawing from a how to draw anime book i think its the worst ive ever drawn anything god what the hell

[cyanbeetle]

The revitalization of the Wild West aesthetic in the 2020s demonstrates a really obvious desire to engage with the exact same power fantasies of cowboy and indian games in the 1960s but also an anxiety and refusal around acknowledging Indigenous people. It’s an interesting blend where in the past, American identity was explicitly defined by the American’s contrast against the Indigenous, and now American identity is contrasted against an absent spot. Like it’s almost as if the western aesthetic has gone beyond its former point of treating Indigenous peoples as a dying old way and now just treat them as actually dead.

I think it demonstrates pretty well how AmericaCanada will never be able to detach from the aesthetics of colonial identity no matter how much it wants to seem like it’s progressing. In distancing themselves from the 1900s concept of cowboys and indians, all they really do is distance from the indians part. I’m not saying that abandoning racist iconography is a bad thing obviously but in slicing that and maintaining the cowboy and pioneer ideology and iconography, all they’ve really done is separate those concepts from their historical actions. It’s an effort to sanitize the image. The more awareness there is about the brutalities of colonization, the more people try to separate the events from any active agents. An understanding will grow that horrific things happened to Indigenous people, but settlers get to remain in the idyllic image space of cottagecore and pioneer ranchers who were ambiguously uninvolved, nevermind the violence inherent in taking up those roles on stolen land.

white cottagecore/cowboycore liberals are especially interesting to me because occasionally you’ll see attempts to put an Indigenous or ambiguously brown person into that setting in fiction or art, but 9 times out of 10 that Indigenous person is now a cottage owner or a cowboy too. It’s another demonstration of how liberal colonial thought might allow a Native American to exist so long as they stop being a Native American.

I don’t even think artists do this consciously, but there’s some level of awareness that you can’t bring an Indigenous person who is culturally and ideologically indigenous into the cottagecore space because if you do, it draws attention to the weirdness of the cottagecore ideology. In an effort to look inclusive, they’ll just bring an assimilated image of a happy Indigenous person who doesn’t worry about all that stuff from the past anymore. And all the appeals are the same as manifest destiny posters or John Wayne films: as a cowboy you can be any man you want to be and carve a home for yourself out of a hostile landscape, as a rancher you can settle into an idyllic life where prosperity will always surround you. So long as you don’t ever try thinking about Indigenous people

[anima-nostrae]

Ups, I forgot about my WIP

A curse as old as time, isn't it? A fanfic, an essay, a story, a piece of art...

The beautiful thing is that there is no deadline for passion projects. They can lay dormant for a day, a month, or a decade, but they come to life just as fervently as loyal old dogs that greet their owners when they come back from a boring but life-giving job.

That is to say, I am proud to announce Days of Reckoning have been picked up again, if there is anyone here that cares for them. I would hazard a guess that Chapter 3 will be live by the end of the month. In the meanwhile, here's a sneak peak (this is an unedited version, therefore might differ slightly from the "published version"):

If the temperature inside the cottage could be classified as breezy the previous evening, then the morning was assuredly cutting. The second Bloom opened her eyes, with one being covered by a duvet she had to throw over her face sometime in the night, she wanted to curl up even tighter into herself, suddenly missing her grandmother’s favourite hobby, knitting, and particularly discovering the art of weaving herself into a tight woollen ball. The very next thought was that she had to be smelling burnt toast, since that particular charring process is, at least to the nose, unmistakeable. The third thought was that she was in the goddamn cottage, and not alone but with…

With a groan that was just a tiny bit exaggerated she rolled over onto her back and sat up straight, still wearing the protective cocoon all around her trembling body. Her eyes were lacking their usual sharpness, hence why Bloom couldn’t be convinced that she saw Valtor cooking in front of her. 

He didn’t mind her much, focused tightly on his fried eggs and probably very much less than fresh toasts with butter, all of which the stars themselves only knew where he got from.

“Erghm,” she cleared her throat. He turned around like a startled fawn, a reflex probably polished by hundreds of battles and assassination attempts. All he found was a half-naked woman, freezing on the bed they made love in the night before. The same woman he fought for many months, the same woman he’s wanted for more than that.

“Morning,” he said, in the most curated monotone.

“I didn’t know you…” she started, but hesitated, “cook.” Nevermind the first thing that came to her mind was eat.

He returned her a slight smile. “I don’t like to, usually. I simply refuse to be dependent on someone because of my lack of skill.”

Bloom took a moment to appraise him - having her enemy before her the morning after they had each other in turn was not something that would happen any other day. His hair wasn’t a complete mess like she would expect, but it wasn’t the shiny wave it was normally. He was shirtless - with his jacket on, but shirtless nonetheless. Bent over the stove like a—

He was shirtless because she was still wearing his shirt.

Something in her brain that hadn't acknowledged Bloom was already awake decided it was a fair thing to return him his property - it was his shirt, his silk against her skin - so her palms made their way to the collar as she was making rounds with her neck to warm up the stiff muscles. The silk was already past her elbows when the cold hit her directly and Bloom understood she was very much awake. Just like him.

As she was working her way up she realised how pitiful she must’ve looked. Cold, so probably red - nevermind blushed - with morning hair, actively performing a striptease before Valtor, who very mindfully and pointedly was admiring the view outside, but his sly smirk betrayed how much of the show he’s actually witnessed. 

“I thought you’d sneak a peek,” Bloom tried to seem unaffected, but more importantly - not embarrassed - which granted her a rare, and before the previous night unknown, pearly laugh. The kind that makes you show all your teeth and shudder your shoulders.

“Oh, I wouldn’t. Bloom, I am a powerful wizard, and a man, but before that - a gentleman. And,” Somehow, his eyes gained an intensity otherwise improper between a pair of lovers during their first shared morning, “There is nothing you can show me now that I haven’t committed to memory already.”

Bloom broke the stare first, trying to concentrate on the fire instead of this man. He was right, he already got everything.

“That is to say,” he continued, clearly sensing her unease, “Don’t think that I would ever dare to forget even a centimetre of you. A second of you. Now, please dress yourself and come to the fire. The eggs are getting cold, and so I think are you.”

Now that was a convincing argument, Bloom thought, as his previous train of thought remained uncontinued by both of them, seemingly in agreement. But those goose feather bedding seemed much cosier than the proximity of the fire.

“Can’t I have breakfast in bed?”“If you want to sleep in stains for how long we’re staying here, yes. Otherwise - come here.”

Some sweet little fluff huh? Do we like it? There's not much of it coming up, so savour it while it lasts.

[justalittleficsideblog]

Care for a dance?; Itadori Yuuji

Prompt: Satoru holds a sort of prom for students, you anxiously wait for Yuuji. But when he arrives, he says some things you’ve been waiting to hear forever.

pairing: Itadori Yuuji x fem!reader

genre: Fluff!

Word count: 1,583

This is my first ever fanfiction, I hope to get better in the future but I hope you all enjoy! <3 also, if you would like to make requests, feel free to do so!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You made your way across the dance floor, eyes glued to the entrance as you waited for that one pink-haired boy to walk through. 

You sighed heavily, leaving against the wall, drink in hand. 

Damn sorcerers and their dramatic antics

You chuckled beside yourself. It's not like you yourself were not a sorcerer, you were quite skilled in the cursed arts, in fact. However, in an attempt to give the tech students a sense of “normalcy” from other schools, Satoru decided to have the students set up their own mini prom. You were against the idea at first, alongside Medumi (although you weren't sure if he was actually listening to what Gojo had to say in the first place), but Itadori’s eyes practically glowed at the idea of a western-type dance. 

“Please y/n! Doesn’t it sound fun?? A dance and lights and music and--”

“Fine, yuuji,” you sighed as Satoru beamed in contempt. You quickly turned away from Itadori’s puppy eyes. But you couldn't just say no to him, and you weren’t quite sure why. 

Because you like him dumbass

“Oooh, so does this mean we get to see y/n in a dress for once?” a mouth appeared on the side of Itadori’s face, cutting off your train of thought.

Itadori slapped his own face, hard.

“Aww,” you teased. “Does Sakuna want to see some skin?”

Itadori blushed, but quickly slapped a hand over his arm as it spoke, “No, well of course, but it would be nice to see Yuji here get all flustered.”

“S-shut up!”

You laughed, as much as a threat Sakuna was, you had to admit he had his quirks. Itadori glanced toward Satoru in a silent plea to change the subject. The teacher complied, laying out the rules and dress code for the event.

“Hehe, have fun with this one kids, I'm off to do some sight-seeing.” and with that he turned and walked off.

“This is pathetic, why do I have to get wrapped up in this shit,” Megumi growled, also striding off toward the direction of his dorm. 

You heard a distinct whispering from behind you, which you assumed was most likely Sukuna saying something to Itadori. When you turned back around, said pink-haired boy made brief eye-contact with you before quickly looking away with his hand on his cheek.

---------

That interaction led you to where you were now, leaning against the wall alone in a dress that made you feel like suffocating. 

Well, you thought. At least I look good

You wondered what Itadori would be wearing, would he think you looked good? Would he even notice you? Or would he steer himself in the direction of a taller girl with a nicer ass? 

You sighed, shaking your head to get rid of the thoughts.

“It’s not like it matters anyway.”

“Oh? What doesn’t matter?” 

You choked on your drink as you turned to see Satoru looking ravishing as ever in a black suit, leaning over you with his drastic height.

“Oh- uh, … nothing in particular,” you swallowed thickly.

Gojo smirked,”Well if that’s the case… he should be here shortly by the way.”

You scowled at your teacher as he chuckled and dashed off while you heard expensive shoes click clack against the polished floor. Megumi and Itadori had arrived.

“Yo, y/n!” Itadori waved while bouncing excitedly. Megumi nodded in acknowledgement, giving you a once over before taking off towards where Satoru wandered off.  You had to admit, Yuuji looked….well, good. Really good. The dress shirt he wore fitted him perfectly, accenting his hair and eyes as he moved even in the slightest.

He cleaned up well.

Itadori came up to you, snack in hand, stopping in his tracks as he got a good glimpse of you. “You look, uh, well- you look really--”

“You look smokin’ y/n” Sakuna made yet another surprise appearance on Itadori’s hand.

“Ahh! Nevermind him, sorry I was just going to say--”

You Interrupted,  “So I don't look smokin’?”

His eyes widened and he took a step back, “N-no, I just think you look… pretty.”

You cackled, noise being drawn out by the music blaring and flashing lights decorating the space. “Relax, Yuji I was just teasing.”

His shoulders dropped somewhat, releasing the tight grip he had over his hand where Skuna’s smart-mouth was. His eyes glanced over your form, noticing how the dress fell over your frame.

“It sure turned out kinda nice, huh?” You asked, turning to face him head on.

“Yeah… the music is amazing too! I dont think ive heard this song before.”

“Really? It’s such an overplayed song in my opinion.”

Yuji’s face grimaced, “Ill be right back, hold on a second.” 

Your smile fell as he walked away, but quickly you became confused as he wandered up to the DJ, whispering something in his ear, looking back at you and smiling.

The pop-song had ended just as he made his way back to your side. Your stomach tingled as he approached, turning as he stood flush against your shoulder. 

“Hey y/n… uh,” he kicked his foot against the ground a second.

Wait… there's a slow song starting, did he-- no way, your eyes widened at the realization of what he had requested at the boothe. No freakin way--

“Do you wana dance?” he choked out, practically shouting so he could be heard above the speakers blasting soft notes across the stage. 

You stared at his outstretched hand in surprise, you thought your little crush had been completely one-sided. There was no way-

“y/n?” 

You snapped back into reality, he was asking for a dance, it didn't mean anything, right?

“Y-yeah, of course!” you stammered, tripping over your words.

Thank god it’s dark in here

He beamed, grabbing your hand and leading you out onto the dance floor. He hesitated a bit with his other hand, nervously laying it on your waist where there was a bit of fabric covering it. He seemed to choke back some words, opening his mouth and closing it promptly as your body was held flush against him.

Your face was red hot as you fell into place against him, linking your hands around his neck. Which felt surprisingly strong. 

“Uh… anything on my neck?” Yuuji glanced down, peering at you oddly. 

“O-oh, no nothing. Just lost in thought I guess.”

He smiled, which caused your chest and stomach to practically be set on fire at the sight of it. You needed to get your shit together.

“Hey,” he began. “You… look really pretty tonight. And, yeah I know I already said that, but like ya know… i'm glad you came.”

“Well,” you start, trailing your hand up his neck. “ I couldn’t disappoint Sukuna now could I?”

Yuuji huffed, obviously irritated at the mention of his crazed possessor. 

“Yeah … well it’s not like his compliment actually matters.”

You chuckled, admiring the way he looked down at you, swaying your bodies in perfect synchrony. You admired the features on his face, trailing down to the little freckles and marks underneath his eyes.

Damn, you bit your lip, he’s really attractive.

“O-oh?”

You froze. Ah shit, did you say that out loud?

Yuuji looked down at you, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted.

Thankfully, the slow song came to an end and you let go of him. But, Yuuji’s arms stayed locked in place, not letting you out of his grasp so easily. 

“You really think that?”

Your stomach churned, chest tightening in the realization that yeah, you said he was cute.

“W-well,” you stammered, looking everywhere but him. “I mean.. Maybe..?”

Finally letting go, you both walked back over to the dark corner where he found you.

“Do you wana go outside? It’s kinda stuffy in here..” You trailed off, still refusing to look him in the eye after your previous embarrassment.

He followed after you, grabbing the door for you and holding it open so you could pass through first. Glancing up, you noticed how beautiful it was outside. Moon casting a beautiful glow down on the both of you, you caught his eye.

“Listen, uh y/n.” He blushed, bringing his hand up to scratch the back of his head nervously. “I really want to get something off my chest..”

“Yeah?” You looked up at him, causing his own heart to skip a beat.

“I- I think I really like you. And, I don’t mean it in a friendly way… well obviously not in a creepy way, but; I just catch myself wanting to be near you, and I think about you all the time”

He glanced at you quickly before looking out ahead of him, your gaze burning into him.

“I… just really want to protect you and kiss you? Is that weird? God, that’s weird. You know what nevermind this was stupid. Listen, I need to go--”

You grabbed his hand before he would run away.

“Come here you big idiot.”

Mustering everything you had inside of yourself, you grabbed his cheeks and slammed your lips on top of his. At first he was frozen, his biggest fantasy finally coming to life. He eased into the kiss, hugging you closer to himself as he cupped one half of your face.

Pulling away you giggled, “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that.”

He smiled dreamily down at you, eyes glazed over in a sense of euphoria.

“D-do you wanna do that again?”

You grabbed his face once more, smiling into the kiss. 

“Fucking finally,” Sukuna’s mouth grinned from the side of Yuuji’s face.

[androgynousblackbox]

I think people are disagreeing on what "bending over backwards to be nice to children" actually entails. I think responding with an awkward "Huh! That's neat!" & excusing yourself to the bathroom is literally fine. The kid might be able to tell you're not interested but it won't traumatize them (kids can be incomprehensible at times & it's difficult to feign excitement about a crayon scribble). I don't think refusing to acknowledge their existence or telling them to scram is polite but IDK.

On my own experience online, what those people seems to mean when they say "be nice to children" is: -Never tells them anything negative, even after they already insulted you, sexually harassed you with inappropiate questions or crossed any other boundaries you might have. -Whenever that happens, you can't talk with anyone about it ever again because kids might feel bad by knowing that they being little shits is not well liked by the adults they were little shits to. -Always play minecraft with them. -You should let them play with whatever things of your property they want to play with, and you better don't mind at all when they break it. -Never comment about what bad thing any kid ever did on your account where you post works for adults, because else people will think you want to murder them (I saw this happening to Vizpop). -Never have a sexual thought, piece of art or fiction and post it on the internet. No, it doesn't matter if it's well tagged and warned. No, it doesn't matter if all the characters are on their 40s. A kid could still watch it and that is not nice of you to make possible. -Express unconditional disposition to all children at all times. Any refusal of the contrary is an admition of being a child abuser and nobody should ever trust you. If you aren't willing to do all of the above, you are a shit person, a monster and don't deserve to have children (nevermind if you even want them in the first place or not).

[fluffyglass]

THE MR. GRUMPY PLEASE STOP THREATENING MR. TICKLE'S LIFE MASTERPOST

I have lost all sense of reality

Season 1

Mr. Grumpy appears in 39 episodes of Season 2.

In 7 of these episodes does he do something wrong.

Season 2

Mr. Grumpy appears in 44 episodes of Season 2.

In 8 of these episodes does he do something wrong.

Conclusions

Mr. Grumpy does something wrong in 15 out of the 83 episodes he appears in, which is 18%. Counting my 10 unsures bumps him up to 25/83, which is 30%.

Mr. Grumpy is a super weird character to rank, as he's justifiably annoyed by pretty much everyone around him; this, however, makes me feel bad to consider him an asshole in any episode because he's beaten down by the world until he snaps. So, take everything I say here with a grain of salt.

The one thing I'll always count against him though is if he ever threatens Mr. Tickle with bodily harm because believe me he does that A LOT

Yellow - Mr. Grumpy does nothing wrong

Red - Mr. Grumpy does something wrong

Pink - idk lol

SEASON 1

Flying - Just doing his job

Music - he's just kinda there lmao

Physical - man nobody even DOES anything in the early episodes

Farm - He gets so hilariously close to saying fuck in this episode its ridiculous. Anyways he's a dick to everyone trying to help him

Lake - barely there

Beach - BIRDS STOLE HSI FUCKING SAMWICH SMH

Mall - what the fuck even was that segment

Birthday - I actually had to watch pretty much the entire episode for this one. He just wants to chill on his own the entire time and everyone else just . does not listen. Please just let him vibe

Boats - barely in it

Superstore - Threatens Mr. Tickle with bodily harm

Books - just sellin his book don't mind him

Camping - he just. cannot eat outside in peace

Science - fuck you Miss Daredevil

Fish - Blames Mr. Bump for splashing when he is . fucking dying

Paint - what the fuck even just happened. I guess he ran over Mr. Bump but it was presumably unintentional and. nsbdANSDMADF WHY ARE THEY CUBED

Construction - He was barely in it and then got fucking mauled at the end

Jobs - yep he sure is there I guess

Trains - Yeah he once again sure is there

Hobbies - he's kinda mean to Mr. Scatterbrain but he's Mr. Scatterbrain so

Fair - this show is so stupid

Dance - It's justifiable that he'd complain about the noise but like. Dude. It's a dance studio. Why am I defending Mr. Noisy again

Amusement Park - Threatens Mr. Tickle with bodily harm, then tickles him after he said he was gonna be sick :(

Adventure - almost dies

Dillydale Day - he's barely in it and all he does is insult the performance

Games - y'know how I said this show was stupid? This is another example of that but in a good way

Hotel - I had to watch this one twice cause I have no fucking idea what to do with it. Like. He's kind of a dick to everyone and barely does his actual job but like. r., what the fcl./??????? also he pushes Mr. Tickle over at some point yeah I'm counting this one

Chores - he's just chillin and then dies

Snow - this segment is fucking hilarious but that's just cause Stubborn's in it lmao anyways he's fine ig

Wildlife - just kinda there

Restaurants - this show is so stupid . again

Gardens - oh how I hate this fucking episode - forced myself to rewatch it, he doesnt do SHIT WRONG AND THESE FUCKERSSADASKDKJDFJKJKADFJKSCVCDVDJKLFKLF IM SO FUCKIGN MAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Cars - Miss Sunshine is nothing but courteous the entire time and Mr. Grumpy does nothing but fucking complain is this the reckoning we get after the disaster that is Gardens

Ships - Threatens Mr. Tickle with bodily harm

Cooking - Roasts the shit out of Miss Naughty but she deserved it so it's okay

Collecting - just kinda there

Sleep - Yeahhhhh uhhh he kinda sent Mr. Strong to his "death" and didn't really. give a shit. soooooooooo oh yeah also hes kinda just mean to everyone the entire time hes just a dick

Carwash - he's trying his best also GAY ICON EPISODE

Sightseeing - yeah

The Dark - yeah again

SEASON 2

Picnics - he's just kinda there

Outer Space - again he's just kinda there

Clean Teeth - Threatens Mr. Tickle with bodily harm

Airports - He's kinda just trying to stop Mr. Stubborn from committing a copious amount of crimes

Shoes - quits a performance right in the middle for no fucking reason ?

Arts and Crafts - he's just trying his best

Game Shows - just kinda there

Garages - this show is so stupid

Toys - this show is still so stupid also Mr. Nervous said among us and I screamed

Reptiles - isn't this just Cars again? but this time he's slightly more of an asshole considering he tries to get Miss Sunshine to ignore Mr. Lazy. The only good part of this bit is Martin

Hats - Tried to get Mr. Happy to ignore the other hat contest contestants so he could win, but he does share his prize at the end, so idk man

Robots - I have absolutely no fucking clue

Up and Down - bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb

Dining Out - Threatens Mr. Tickle with bodily harm

Gifts - just kinda there

Sun and Moon - yep

Telephone - the whole fucking dillydale invaded his house wtf!!

Washing & Drying - Threatens Mr. Tickle with bodily harm

Sneezes & Hiccups - If I had a nickel for every Mr. Grumpy segment that was only funny because Mr. Stubborn was in it I'd have six nickels. I could buy a soda with that if it was 50 years ago

Fruit - Managed to be bribed with . fruit

Radio - bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb

Supermarket - i fucking hate this show I dont care enough to rewatch this one

Skyscrapers - HE STOLE MR SCATTERBRAIN'S SANDWICH SMH

Cinema - I'm so tired

Getting Around - I am still tired

Clocks - this episode is ass

Post Office - I am still, in fact, tired

Dance, Dance, Dance - I'm not tired anymore this episode bangs

Library - HE BARELY EVEN DOES ANYTHING

Pirates - I'm tired again

Goo - Threatens Mr. Tickle with bodily harm

Trains & Planes - I am going to fall asleep

Out to Sea - I am asleep. also he ignores Mr. Quiet the entire time and doesn't acknowledge Miss Scary pretty much saving his life but hhhhhhhhhhhhhhbnbnvnvbb i am too tired to care at this point

Next Door - still asleep

Lunch - zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Machines - this isn't as painfully boring as Mr. Happy was but it's pretty close

Fairies and Gnomes - NEVERMIND I FUCKING LOVE THIS EPISODE

Home Improvement - asleep again

Bath and Bubbles - still asleep

Sand and Surf - I am up to 8 nickels at this point

Parks - Mr. Grumpy is so much more boring than I rememebred AND YEP THREATENED MR TICKLE WITH BODILY HARM

Surprises - I refuse to watch this episode again

Travel - THREATENED MR TICKLE WITH BODILY HARM AGAIN

Bad Weather - and I am now once again asleep

[keepingupwiththekamados]

The wind pillar's day off 🌟

Part 1 > Part 2 

Giyuu was not lying when he said Sanemi should be bed-bound. He fell victim to a paralytic demon art on his last mission and it's only thanks to his breathing techniques and Shinobu's early intervention that he's managed to avoid permanent damage.

That doesn't mean he emerged unscathed. He's little more than a cripple now. Fine, he can walk a fair distance; but he can't run. He doesn't have the strength to train, but he can summon a quick burst of energy every once in a while.

Not that it matters.

Naturally, Shinobu instructed him to stay in his estate till he recovers. Naturally, Sanemi was pissed.

"Well, what am I supposed to do now?" he remembers asking.

"I don't know. Read a book?" came her offhanded suggestion.

The Updated Encyclopedia of Native Plants glares back at him.

He shuts the cover of the tome with a heavy thunk, and absently impresses his palm upon the embossed title. Genya's been trying to persuade him to read it for a month now - so he can stop accidentally killing their plants, he suspects - and now was as good a time as any to get it done.

It wasn't so bad once he got started, he has to admit. There are whole chapters dedicated to each and every plant native to Japan; its origins, its variants, its medicinal properties, and of course, how to grow them. He can see why Genya is so passionate about this stuff.

Still, Sanemi has his limits. He's exhausted. Two hours had flown by since he started - two hours, and he's barely a quarter way through the tome.

Two hours...

... without interruption?

He fiddles with the thread of the spine as he mulls it over. Oddly enough, he hasn't seen neither hide nor hair of the demons since Giyuu dropped them off.

Suppose he shouldn't be surprised. They seem to be wary of Sanemi - and rightfully so. He stabbed them a couple times after all. Or maybe it was thrice. Or maybe… well, the details are irrelevent. He should be happy that they've finally culminated the self preservation skills to stay out of his way.

There is just one problem.

He's bored.

He didn't expect them to actually listen. He thought they would set out for revenge, because they are evil, spiteful little creatures. He would prefer it if they do violate his rules, actually; to force his hand, to put them in their place. It would be a nice break from this week-long monotony.

Perhaps he should investigate. Not because he's concerned or anything. In fact, he's the opposite of concerned: he's suspicious. What if they're plotting something? They could be waiting for the moment he falls asleep - the moment he slips his guard even just a little - and then they'll strike.

Hah. We'll see about that.

The flame of the oil lamp is extinguished with a quiet hiss. He pads out the library, his feet as light as a draft. It's more out of habit than anything. In reality, there's no point in being subtle - the red demon can probably smell him from a mile away, like the demented sniffer dog he is.

The black demon, however...

A shadow whips around the corner.

He follows.

The demon is quick, but he is quicker. It's only Nezuko. Sanemi cannot tell where she came from, nor where she's headed, but he'll know soon enough. He watches as she swishes down the length of the engawa - leaving a trail of dotted red in her wake.

Sanemi's instincts flare at the sight. It's blood, it must be! The demon must have commited some act of terror while he was holed up in the library. Damnit, he should've kept a closer eye on them! Now he has no choice but to decapi--

Ah, nevermind, it's just adzuki beans.

Sanemi pinches one off the floor with a frown. She'd stolen it from his courtyard. A little weird, sure, but not exactly a sin.

Further on, he reaches the end of his path: the kitchen. The first thing he notices from the other side of the door is the sweet smell of his crushed adzuki beans. They're cooking? What the hell? They don't get hungry, there's no reason for them to mess about in his kitchen. Unless they're trying to piss him off on purpose. He jerks the door open, and opens his mouth, ready to shout-

Except they don't even acknowledge his entry. Their backs are turned to him; huddled together, and bent over something that's hidden from view, and Nezuko giggles, and Tanjirou whispers shush. A ring of stray adzuki beans surround them, and to the side, a pot is sat upon the irori, clumps of rice spilling over the lip.

Sanemi is at a loss.

"Oi... what do you think you're doing?"

Tanjirou's face pops up. He's practically glowing with excitement as he jumps to his feet, and he trots over, Nezuko in tow, the sleeve of his haori masking whatever it is he's holding. It is a nerve-wracking moment. He places himself before the wind pillar. Takes a deep breath. Looks up, eyes twinkling innocence. And he raises the plate above his head.

"Dada!"

A single ohagi.

It is a rudimentary thing. Something tells him that this is one of many attempts that came from the past two hours. But he doesn't understand. Why him?

"Are you making fun of me? Is that it?"

"Mm?"

Tanjirou rocks on his heels, insistent. No, he really is trying to offer up this sad creation. Sanemi eyes it warily. As pathetic as it looks, it does smell rather nice. And he may have forgotten to eat today. And it is his favourite food...

So he snatches the plate. His glare floats from demon to demon as he tries to parse their intentions. Even still his cynicism refuses to let up. This could be a prank, or a poison attempt, or...

... maybe they're just trying to be nice?

In which case.

"Come with me," Sanemi grunts, and he leaves the kitchen.

[mothmansfriend]

when i’m sad oh god i’m sad (pt. 2)

link to pt. 1

follows a very similar timeline to @tearxofink‘s fic Rules for a Functioning Alcoholic but will prob have differences (such as no established relationships) and takes place in @illogicallyinclined‘s hockey au after the mention of Remus possibly having undiagnosed bipolar disorder

update: i think its important to acknowledge roughly where this takes place in the big timeline bc D doesn’t really drink past freshman yr in this AU because of self preservation and trauma, alcoholism was more an issue before then in high school (when remus and d were Rowdy Boys) but the stress of Logan’s concussion lead to some heavy drinking that was caught quickly by Virgil because Remus Cannot Keep Secrets.

summary: Remus has undiagnosed Bipolar Disorder and is dealing with a severe depressive episode in the aftermath of realizing that binge drinking with D wasn’t just his own search to Feel Something, but was also D’s relapse into alcoholism. Remus comes to the realization of lost time during manic episodes and refuses help.

tw: graphic descriptions of a depressive episode, self harm (burning),  suicidal thoughts, and suicidal intent (but not attempt). unhealthy coping mechanisms, alcohol abuse, mentioned alcoholism, undiagnosed mental illness, miscommunications on shared trauma, ask to tag if i missed any.

There are a number of places that are simply uncomfortable to sleep. Barely sitting up and using the chairs provided by the previous tenants as a pillow is certainly one of them. It takes Remus a moment to identify what woke him up as there's another round of knocking on his door and he doesn’t want to respond. It’s bright out,the sun is blocked from his figure by the curtains covering most of the windows. He hears Roman’s muffled voice as the locked doorknob jiggles, “See? I told you he’s not here, Virge. There’s nothing to be worried about, if he doesn’t show up by tomorrow I’ll go look for him. You know how he is”.

Their footsteps move away and Virgil speaks, “Can you text him? I’m just worried, Thomas said that-” his voice fades as they enter the kitchen.

Remus can barely pick himself off the floor before his phone lit up with a notification.

the shittier twin: You good? LMK when you’re coming home, Virgil is lowkey freaking out  (received: 10:14)

He stares at the words willing his brain to focus as he decides, maybe he should reply.

He sends a photo of a fat pigeon he took outside a club him and D got kicked out of a few weeks ago. It would be clear that the picture was taken at a different time, but does get message of ‘I’m alive’ across. Which is about as much as Remus is willing to communicate to people that haven’t even tried to contact him before now. How sad is it that his twin brother didn’t even check on him until six days later. Or maybe he should be asking if it’s sad that after four days Roman still hasn’t noticed that he’s home, or that it took Roman six to even ask? Remus spends all this time in the theatre and in the arts studio, and still Roman was the only one to ask, though at the request of someone who wants to get mad at him. He considers if maybe that he is a bad person, and that isn’t something he normally would care about, but if he weren’t then people might have checked on him. He usually hangs out with D almost everyday and he swears he’s never been gone more than maybe four days. But no one else seems concerned at all.

He considers reasons why this might be and gets stuck on Roman’s comment that he hasn’t been gone that long, and the implications then of him being gone longer. Things that don’t really make sense, but he knows losing your train of thought and getting distracted is a part of ADHD, but maybe, this is much more concerning. How does he know that he’s only ever been gone so long, maybe those lapses are more than a few minutes of zoning out. Which leads to, does Remus know who he is during these lapses? The contrast between the two prince twins have always been clear in their behaviour, Roman who follows every word their parents whisper in his ear. The boy grew up to be an actor after years of who takes any command without thought at that chance to be on top, and revelled in praise. It’s the cowards way of survival, are you really living if you’re not you? He knows Roman wasn’t quite loving that, but he still complied. Remus has always known exactly who he is and who he always will be. But the uncertainty of who he is in those spaces that seem to be taking up more and more space, maybe he;s been following someones script too?

He’s constantly changing his mind and forgetting where he is, are his feelings his? If everything the thought he knew about himself is slipping through his fingers like sand in an hourglass than how does he make it stop?

—

Virgil slides into the recently empty chair next to Roman the second Patton gets up to ask the waitress for another round of coffee, he steals one of Roman’s sausages and speaks, “By the way, I’m catching a ride to your place with you and D”.

Roman squawks at the sausage thief, “Why? I already told you Remus isn’t home!”

Virgil rolls his eyes, “Yeah I know, just humour me. I went to talk to Joan before we left and Thomas said Remus texted to apologize for missing practice, he’s never done that before! I just wanna come check, you can make fun of me later or whatever.”

“Fine, whatever, I know you’d just show up anyway. I don’t think him texting Thomas means anything though, even if it is weird.”

“Well we can agree to disagree then.”

—

The entry to the apartment the Prince twins share with D was just as full of banter as expected. D and Roman irritating Virgil without effort but Virgil matching that with his own comebacks and determination to check on Remus. “Alright, Emo Knightmare, let’s go knock on his cave door so I can know you again, that he isn’t home” Roman drops his bag next to the couch and heads down the shared hallway of D, Remus, and the storage closet. D walks past him with comments of a essay due tomorrow and disappears. Roman walks down and knocks on the door sternly once maintaining eye contact with Virgil knowing there will not be a response. Virgil follows him and he knocks again after a moment and jiggles the knocked door handle. “See? I told you he’s not here, Virge. There’s nothing to be worried about, if he doesn’t show up by tomorrow I’ll go look for him. You know how he is.” Roman turns and leads them back out into the living room towards the kitchen.

Virgil pauses for a moment watching the door before he follows, “Can you text him? I’m just worried, Thomas said that he actually texted to apologize for not showing up today. You know when Remus is out he never remembers to charge his phone, it just seems weird.”

Roman exhales and wordlessly pulls out his phone shooting off a text to his twin before pulling some leftovers out of the fridge to offer to Virgil despite the fact they had eaten not long ago. Virgil accepts and he puts it on two plates for the microwave. Roman’s phone vibrates on the counter with a text. The emo leans over to read and snorts, “Wait, is Remus’s name actually ‘the shittier twin’ in your phone? He just send a picture of  what appears to be an obese pigeon, that doesn’t answer my question at all!”

Roman shrugs, “Of course it is, and yeah that sounds about right, it’s like he’s trying to communicate through hieroglyphics, he’s just telling us he’s fine.”

Virgil’s dark eyes examine Roman’s face for any reflection that he’s just trying to make him stop bothering him with his concern, but when he sees nothing he drops his defensiveness, “Yeah, okay, he’s your brother, he’s kind of like a cat I guess. He always comes home right?”

The microwave beeps and Roman slides the extra plate in front of Virgil, “Exactly, he’s just like this, I’ll text you when he comes back. You don’t need to worry about it, Virge.”

Virgil shoots him a small smile before taking his plate to the couch closely followed by the oldest Prince twin as they settle down with Netflix until they need to leave for their respective classes.

—

Roman blearily wipes his eyes as he wakes up in his dark room and rolls over to check the time. 2:34am wake up and bathroom break time. He briefly considers just rolling over and waiting four or five hours until he needs to get up for class, but decides there’s just a higher chance of getting a restless sleep the rest of the night. The hockey captain rolls out of bed standing in his room shirtless and only wearing a random pair of soft sleep pants and stumbles out of his room, crossing the living room and entry way he’s about to try the handle of the dark bathroom door when it opens to reveal a tall dark figure.

Roman jumps back with an admittedly embarrassing squawk before recognizing the dark figure to be a freshly showered, exhausted, and almost weak looking Remus. The two stood in silence for a moment, Remus not even reacting to the sight of his brother. Roman awkwardly laughed for a moment, “Holy shit, Remus! I didn't even realize you were home.”

Remus stares emptily, moving to walk away without replying, Roman stops him with a hand on his shoulder, “Are you like, uh, okay? You kind of look like shit”

That was clearly the wrong thing to say as suddenly Remus’s face hardens into a snarl, “Oh fuck you, Roman.” His voice cracks halfway through but it doesn’t do anything to diminish the venom in his voice, “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Christ! If you’re going to be an asshole then nevermind, I just wanted to check up on you. You know, like a concerned brother just might do?” Roman fires back suddenly feeling defensive. The tone of voice Remus uses almost sounds scared to him but he doesn’t have the energy to pry at Remus in the hallway less than 6 feet from D’s door at 2:30am.

“You don’t get to play any kind of concerned brother role right now! You don’t just get to decide to be concerned one day, it’s all about appearances with you, I dont fuck with that!” Remus’s voice raises as he gets more and more riled up, his voice sounds like shit as if he hasn’t used it in days, “Tell me when you think I got home, Princey, huh? You don't know shit about me and it’s time you stopped asking like you do.” He steps towards Roman edging back down the hallway to the living room.

“Why am I supposed to know when you got home?” Roman fires back, “You’re an adult! You’ve taken care of yourself fine for years, I’m not your parent I don’t need to know where you are twenty-four-fucking-seven!”

Vaguely, Roman hears D’s bedroom door open and feels brief regret that was smashed by Remus shoving him backwards. “You don’t need to know! But, did you ever think to wonder? Did you ever once care enough to ask? No! I don’t remember ever being gone more than three or four days.”

Roman recoils for a second in confusion but counters standing his ground, “What does that fucking mean? You own a calendar, a phone, you should know your average in the last year has been like five to seven days, you can’t blame me that you decide to go on a bender every 6 months or less. Can’t you ever grow up?”

“It means I don’t know where I was for two to four of those days at least! You self absorbed prick! Fuck!” Remus crumples for a second, his facial expression looks so, lost. He violently grabs and tugs on his still damp hair. He stands back up face guarded once again. “I know I never go out without a plan, I have paid some fucking terrible prices for that that you never need to know about. But, you’re telling me that I was out there and I don’t remember it? And no one thought to mention anything to me? And you’re asking if I’m ‘okay’? Fuck that, fuck you. I’m going back to my room, and ideally I’ll fucking rot and die before I have to look at you again,” Remus seethes before turning and slamming his door without waiting for a response.

Roman sags at his brothers exiting remarks, making tentative eye contact with D who waits in the dark hallway. “I don’t know what to do,” Roman says quietly.

D moves towards him moving them to the couch offering a comforting touch to the remaining twin, “Roman, I cannot tell you that I have any idea about what just happened. But, it seems like he just wants you to be there for him, in his own weird displays of affection he does love you and I think maybe he’s scared sometimes that you don’t care for him, and he lashes out. But right now, you need to go back to sleep so you can go to your boring nine am lecture, and I’ll try to spend time with him tomorrow. Sound good?”

Roman examines D, letting himself feel vulnerable for a moment but trusts that D knows what to do. He’s known the twins since high school, if anyone knew it would be him. “Thank you, D” Roman whispers, leaning into the little affection for a moment before he stands up and moves them back down the hallway.

Roman goes to the bathroom as originally planned but thinks about the things his younger brother had said. How much is he missing? What does it mean for Remus to simply not remember days at a time? Is it because of drinking too much or something else?

As Roman tucks himself back into bed, preparing himself for the restless sleep he had been trying to avoid. His mind wanders, and he can’t help but think that maybe he should be questioning blood stains on Remus’s carpet a little more.

[247krp]

— Rejoice, little lambs! We have recovered our own Oh Heejun, spotted prancing about in the Northeast Side. I don’t remember seeing him with any clique back in high school, but I’m not here to spill yesterday’s tea. So straight to the rundown: can you say ambitious and kind? Apparently now he spends time as a waiter at Nocturnal Music Club, student and a forensics investigator in training, and keeps skeletons buried at Banjeom Apartments, 501. But those won’t stay hidden for long, if you and I have any say on it. Welcome back, Lilac; we missed you so.

TW: mental disorder, mention of death

In case you don’t remember the devil’s name, here’s to refresh your memory:

Heejun has always been a bookworm, a helpful and optimistic boy. He took extra classes in high school, and advanced science classes, falling in love with chemistry. Although people liked to be around him, either to take advantage or actually be his friend, there were some who hated his guts. One of them was certainly GG, who had to search every unwanted corner to find something negative about a predominantly positive person. Heejun admired their perseverance in a way, and never spoke ill about them. After months, they finally found some old records from Heejun’s therapy sessions. Those described his memory loss, his hard condition at home and between the lines, his mother’s disappearance. Heejun’s subtle but strange obsessions led GG to think that he suffers from a mental disorder due to his memory loss, and poverty. She called it OCD, and because of his obsession with lilac, she gave him that name. The rumours affected some of his relationships at school, people started to be more careful around him, some dissing him because of his so-called disease. But Heejun never got affected by it, not even when his P. E. teacher shamed him in front of the whole class. He wore his smile, and kept his mind occupied with things he loved, like chemistry. Strangely, his teacher disappeared two weeks after the event, and his words were soon forgotten. He graduated first in his class, and got the chance to obtain a scholarship at a renowned University.

Nevermind the memory lane though, the present is always the ripest fruit:

Heejun is still a student, but he has a bright future ahead. He is admired by his teachers, he works extra hard to enter the field he desires to work in. Luckily, a forensics investigator decided to help him train for the field, thing that has gained Heejun quite a respectable reputation. However, his financial situation is still shaky, so he has to work in order to support his studies. His grandparents can only give him this much, they are both old and only his grandmother still works. Heejun’s dream is to earn enough to help his grandparents, as he owes them his life. Once he has a stable job, he can start to pay for his therapy sessions, and finally pay for a way to meet Morphius. He keeps his life private, and nobody he knows seems to care too much, especially because his kind personality overshadows all negative things that might lurk beneath the surface.

But we are nothing if not open books – my job is to ensure you get to the best pages:

Touched by the heavy wings of fate, Heejun was born in a poor house, barely surviving his first winter. His mother carried him at her chest from house to house, imitating the Christmas story, until she laid down in the snow and cried. He was all she had, the only reason she kept going, the only reason she was still trying. And in a flicker of hope, he found her, on the streets begging like Maggie for a new home. Heejun scarcely remembers his rough features and stern voice. Although she fell in love, the boy never approved of his presence. He would cry crocodile tears whenever he stepped closer, and for some unknown reasons he always reacted violently. A part of him blames him for her disappearance. However, his other voice screams that her disappearance just happened. Everything after the age of three until his early teen years was just a blurry past. He had no recurrence of any event, something his doctors called selective amnesia, and his psychologist an awakening. It felt like waking up from a long dream, with no mother, no father, and in the care of two loving grandparents. No event made sense for a long time, he had no idea why he had to go to therapy, no idea why his mother was missing. One thing was, however, certain: at one moment during that period Morphius was born. One single moment determined his decay.

Morphius is what his doctor called his alter ego. Heejun never met him, but he always wanted to. He does not know who met him, he cannot recall anything his alter ego did. For him, it feels like pieces of his memory were intentionally taken out. Nevertheless, the big changes that occurred were in his personality. Despite going through hard times, Heejun remained an impossibly optimistic boy, always smiling and looking for what ifs, for a better solution, for ways to help everyone. Naturally, people took advantage of him, but he never gave up. His quick-witted personality, and abnormal life drive impressed nearly everyone he came in touch with. He has been admired and envied for his motivation and intelligence. Not even the nasty rumours about him brought him down. However, he always feelsan indescribable darkness live within him. Most of the times he chooses to ignore it, for the sake of his sanity and health. He cannot explain it, he cannot explain his violent art. Heejun, the nerdy boy with glasses, the straight A student, would never hurt anyone. But he ‘wondered’ if Morphius would. This question remains ‘unanswered’ for Heejun, and answered by everyone who met Morphius.

Lilac was Heejun’s first coloured pencil, and Morphius’ first victim. A girl in his neighbourhood, who dared call his mother ugly. Morphius was quite active at the age of six, and once Heejun’s parent was shamed, he stepped in. He feels morbidly attracted to his positive alter ego, seeking to touch his reflection, the embodiment of purity. Yes, he is a narcissist, and a protective ‘friend’. He buried the girl under the family’s lilac tree, Heejun’s favourite flower. He knew Heejun will appreciate the disappearance of that annoying burden. He was satisfied, for a while. But Heejun never found the body, Heejun kept ignoring him, Heejun wasignoring him. Morphius felt neglected. His positive alter ego never patted his head and told him sweet nothings. His alter ego never acknowledged him. Youexpect him to be nice? No. From age six to age twelve was show-time. After Morphius got rid of all things that could distract Heejun, he disobeyed all rules. Mentally he was about twenty at that time, despite his small frame and childish smile. Once Heejun woke up, he found the notes he left behind. The only records Heejun actually has, the proof of Morphius’ existence. He hides them, because he does not know what to make of them. Pages, and pages of graphic descriptions, deranged comments and the ending note of I love you, friend. Like most negative things in his life, Heejun put that aside. But if someone would find those, his whole life might and would crumble before him. He lied about them. Yes, Heejun actually lied. Whenever he was asked: Do you remember?, he would answer no. But the pages he has, those are his memories. He just refuses them.

[kyuuzuchibi]

Infinite To Me

To: quiet-kunoichi’s Kimiko (OC) Under cut for length

I head away from my home, which is nestled on the outskirts of the village, shut away from prying eyes and difficult to find. It’s a place one simply stumbles upon, and they’re promptly sent away if they happen to. One of the beautiful things about this sliver of land is that in three directions spread the purity of the wilds. Even more beautiful: head the last direction and you’ll make it back into civilization quickly enough but not too quickly for my taste. Even more beautiful: it’s mine alone.

Well, it was… until she came.

Heading north on a path that’s been beaten by me alone, ducking beneath low-hanging branches and winding around large clusters of tree trunks, I keep sneaking glances behind me. I could have turned her away. Maybe I should have. I didn’t though. She was standing there, soaked to the bone and determined not to be frazzled, and I admired the way she refused to sacrifice even a shred of her dignity. She would have walked away had I told her to, but I didn’t. Somehow, I just couldn’t.

Maybe I was trying to atone for my sins. Maybe I thought doing this would right at least some of my wrongs. Maybe I knew, even then, without knowing it at all, that she would change my life. Maybe I knew I needed that, even though I couldn’t know what was coming.

I’m content to walk in silence, and so is she. This isn’t the first time we’ve shared this walk, but I’m seeing things differently this time around. My eyes slide to their corners and I look sideways, sure to keep my head straight so as not to be conspicuous as I stare at her. Now that we’ve gotten through the thickest of the thickets, there’s enough space to walk side-by-side, so we do.

It’s hard to remember how long she’s been here. It feels like a lifetime. Every single day with her feels like a lifetime, actually, and I don’t mean that in a romantic way… or maybe I do. It’s just that… when you start an argument with her, it never ends, but maybe that’s my fault too. Everything about her is never-ending–her passion, her ferocity, her power, her strength, her stubbornness, her snide comments, her challenging stares. When she starts laughing–a rare occurrence–it seems to stretch on into infinity. Even her hair seems to flow for days when the wind whips it enough.

She is infinity.

Her eyes flicker toward me and her head turns slightly. I look away quickly–too stubborn to let her catch me caring about her presence. The air between us has been tense for days. She’d say it was my fault, and I’d say it was hers, but we both know we share the blame equally, or at least we both want that to be the truth, even as we cling to our separate claims of innocence.

When we break through to the meadow, she makes her way toward the narrow stream at the far side and I linger a few steps behind–an excuse to watch her without her knowing. Of course, she feels the intensity of my gaze on her back anyway and ends up whipping around.

“What’s your problem?” There alights a familiar fire in her eyes.

I sigh. It may sound as though this is bothersome and I’m already bored of it, but really I’m just tired. “You didn’t have to come.”

“That’s neither here nor there,” she says, arms folding across her chest. Her chin inclines and she looks down her nose at me. Her lip even twitches into a slight scowl.

I sigh again, and I can see it’s really grating on her nerves. I open my mouth, but she’s quick to the draw.

“Forget it,” she snaps, turning away and starting for the stream again.

She doesn’t seem to fit the scenery anymore. Her feet are heavy on the earth, leaving stamps where she’s been walking. Her hands slap at the tips of the long grass as she sways her arms with the same ferocity of her steps. She kicks a rock and sends it flying into the stream, and I sigh again. I truly am weary.

When she looks back at me, my expression stays as blank as ever, as if I couldn’t be bothered to be moved by her behavior. On one hand, I can’t. On the other, I inevitably am. I’ve just mastered the art of concealing any inner conflict I might subject myself to. It’s a survival skill, and she has it too. It should say something that she’s willing to let that veil down around me, but it doesn’t dawn on me until this very moment in time that I should feel blessed by such an honest display of emotion.

Can’t I return the favor?

I close the gap between us, and she starts laying into me before I even get there. “What’s your problem?” again, and “Why are you such an ass?” and other things like “Who gave you the right? Where do you get the audacity? Do you think I’m a child? Would you like to tame me? Because let me tell you–!” and it just goes on for so long that I start to tune her out.

Eventually, I just repeat myself. “You didn’t have to come.”

She huffs, folds her arms, and stares straight across the stream. She doesn’t say anything more, but I can feel the irritation coming off of her in waves. It’s a warning sign: “Back off if you value your life.”

So I do. I walk a few paces away from her and sit on a large stone.

I started this walk for some peace and quiet, and I didn’t mind when she decided to join me. I didn’t invite her, but I didn’t reject her company. I simply announced that I would be heading to the stream and didn’t bat an eye when she trailed along. I didn’t think it would be like this though. I thought the point was to get away from our disagreements, but they seem to follow us everywhere, thickening the air between us until it’s insufferable. Usually, we just mutually let it go and never speak of it again until it becomes good ammo for the next firing round.

This feels different though.

I get so lost in my idea of what this should have been like that I ignore what it’s become, and before I know it, she’s walking away. I turn to see her hair swishing back and forth as she stomps away. My brows crinkle in confusion and, for some reason, my lips open to beckon her.

“Kimiko…”

She stops promptly and spins around, narrowing infuriated eyes at me. At that moment, in which we share an intense gaze, I start to understand her. Beneath that thick veil of anger sits a delicate pain. I can’t know why it’s there, for something tells me it isn’t about me at all. Yet, I struck the match, but I’m not willing to be responsible.

“What?” she snaps. The tone is sharp, but I can sense an insecure warble to it that she’s trying to hide. She doesn’t wait long in my silence before she just starts walking away again.

I watch her go, and nothing really happens. There’s nothing that breaks inside of me. Nothing tells me to follow her. Nothing. I just.. watch her go, but I do start to think once she’s completely gone from view.

Maybe I’m a little coarse. Well, actually, we both know that I am, but she is too. She and I share so much in common, but I guess we could both probably agree that I am the colder one between us two. I thought we were both okay with that, but maybe not. She can be crass, tactless, cruel, and heartless like me, but she’s not aloof like me. She’s in every moment. She feels everything. She knows when to craft a strong visage, but she isn’t afraid to be whatever she may be at that moment.

I’m never in anything. I’m always removed. It strikes me that I may come across as too good. Do I come across as high and mighty? To be fair, I am higher and mightier than most, but not Kimiko. She has to know that I don’t think that lowly of her. I’m not too high or mighty for her at all. In fact, I respect no one in the way that I respect Kimiko.

It occurs to me that my behavior may have dug this hole for me. I like to think it’s a back-and-forth, a banter that leads us to these stalemates, but maybe it’s just me.

I sigh, yet again, and head after her. I can’t imagine myself unloading this huge confession, but I can, at the very least, attempt to bury the hatchet for real this time. And I’m not talking about letting it die for now. I’m talking about letting it go. Maybe this warrants an actual apology.

It takes me a while to get home, for I’m wandering leisurely, but I eventually walk up along the side of our small garden. The back door is half open, so I close it behind myself. I intend to sit at the kitchen table until she’s ready to face me again, but I hear a rustling that intrigues me. Being nosy, I walk down the hall and peek into Kimiko’s bedroom. She’s stuffing clothes into a bag furiously. She wipes her hand across her face after a couple of paces and I wonder if she’s crying.

“What’re you doing?”

I almost regret saying anything. She looks at me with so much fury in her eyes that I swear I’ll burn down to ashes right then and there. It ignites a fire within me too.

“Don’t fuckin worry about it!” she spits before going back about her business. I open my mouth, but she stomps over and slams the door in my face before I can say anything at all.

I’m angry at first, but I calm myself pretty quickly. It’s foolish to let myself be riled up by this. What does it say about me if I get moved by something like this? What does it say about us?

Or… more importantly… why am I so scared of what it says about us?

Nevermind that.

I walk out into the living room and sit on a chair that allows me to watch the hallway. I think for a long time, so long that I start to think she was just bluffing. Eventually, she does come out though, bag in hand. She heads straight for the door, and I don’t expect her to acknowledge me, so I’m surprised when she stops.

“Kimiko…” The word is soft on my lips. “You can’t go.”

Her gaze is almost… pleading… for a moment, and then it gets hard again. “Why? Why can’t I go?” she demands to know.

I don’t say anything for a while, and the pleading look comes back again. “Just look at the fucking truth Sasuke. Tell yourself, and then tell me. I’m tired of waiting for you to open your damn eyes, and I’m not gonna sit around and force you to see things differently. Either you will, or you won’t.”

There’s a spark between us, and I’ve been mistaking the root of the friction. Maybe it’s deeper than I want to admit. I can’t just… I can’t just understand these things so easily though. This is the first moment that I’ve started to wonder at the meat of what’s really happening between us. She can’t expect me to make grand leaps in one day, can she?

Her tone is low–a mixture of defeat and anger. “I guess you won’t.”

She turns to go, and I can’t stand to see her turn away from me one more time, so I leap forward. My hand is gripping her elbow and I’m yanking until she’s facing me again. “I’ll be better…” The words just tumble from my lips–a promise so honest that I don’t get a chance to filter it at all. It just comes pouring right out of me. My brows have crinkled together and my lips have pulled down into the slightest of pouts.

To my surprise, she looks right past the look of vulnerability on my face… unless it’s not there… unless I’m so cold that I can’t even show it anymore. She scoffs at me, and it chips away at my core, and she says, “No you won’t.”

Just like that, she’s gone, as if she’d never been there in the first place.

For days, I wait for her to return. I amble around like a ghost. And even though it was like this before she ever came, I don’t know what to do with myself. It’s almost as if I never lived a life before her. The garden dies, and I run out of food, so I end up having to go into the village market to spend what little money I have to spend. I’ll have to take a mission to make more money now that I’ve let my delicate lifestyle slip. The balance is easy to break, and it forces me out of my solitude.

Time melts away, and I don’t know how long it’s been. I don’t know if I just miss her, but I see her at the market one day after an especially long mission. I’m stopping on my way home after getting paid, just to grab a few things, and I see her. I rush forward, and I grab her elbow, and I expect to be disturbing a stranger, but there she is. Her eyes don’t go half as wide as mine. Her heart doesn’t seem to be shooting off nearly as wildly as mine is.

We stare at each other for a long moment. Her brow arches expectantly, and then I ask, “Where have you–?”

“I’ve been around,” she says simply.

“Come home.” It’s a demand, but it’s soft. It’s new to me. I haven’t yet learned how to make it a question, but can she just give me credit for making it gentle?

There’s none of the vulnerability ripping out of me reflected in her eyes. She turns, she whispers, “Stay healthy,” and she walks away.

My heart feels as though it’s been ripped in two, but I quickly get a handle on that. I don’t want anyone who doesn’t want me. I stew on that thought for days. I wonder if that’s what she was thinking when she left too.

‘I don’t want anyone who doesn’t want me.’

To my surprise, I come home from a short mission a few days later to find her sitting on the back porch. Her bag is at her side as she sits in one of the rocking chairs sipping some tea. She could have easily let herself in–in fact, she did, when she went to make that tea–but she didn’t put her things away, as if she’s trying to make a gesture of it… or maybe she just doesn’t plan on staying.

I walk right up through the downtrodden garden and take a seat in the chair opposite her. I look sideways, but this time I turn my full head. I don’t try to catch a covert glance. I don’t try to hide that I’m looking her way. I just look, and I bury the shame I used to feel at being so openly drawn to her. She finally glances at me, and maybe she thinks the look in my eyes is pitiful, because she scoffs at me.

“Our garden looks horrible.”

My lips pull up at the corners. That’s all I need–just the intoned ‘we’ of it. Ourgarden looks terrible.

“I’ll be better,” I promise, and we both know by now that I’m not talking about the garden.

She murmurs around the lip of her teacup, “I know.”

[fluffyglass]

THE MR. FUSSY A BITCH MASTERPOST

I essentially remade the Mr. Rude apologism masterpost but with Mr. Fussy this time, in an attempt to see whether my newfound disliking of Mr. Fussy is justified or not. I've watched every single Mr. Fussy segment and determined whether he's an asshole or not, simple as that.

Season 1

Mr. Fussy is in 42 episodes in Season 1.

In 8 of these episodes does he do something wrong.

Season 2

Mr. Fussy is in 39 episodes in Season 2.

In 9 of these episodes does he do something wrong.

Conclusions

In total, Mr. Fussy did something wrong in 17 out of the 81 segments he's in, which is 20%. Counting the 7 I was unsure about, that's 23/81. 28%. Welp, that means I proved my point in doing this in the first place, I guess! It's official! Based off of my own data, Mr. Fussy is technically a bigger asshole than Mr. Rude!

Am I gonna do every single character? Probably.

Here, take my episode by episode analysis.

Welcome to the Episode by Episode analysis! Same colors as last time, minus blue as. Obviously he can't yell at himself.

Yellow - Mr. Fussy does nothing wrong

Red - Mr. Fussy does something wrong

Pink - I have no idea what to put for this one lmao

SEASON 1

Flying - He doesn't do anything wrong, he just wants to know if the pillow's clean. Even if he's a bit of a dick about it. Mr. Grumpy's the one who . yknow. kidnapped Mr. Bounce

Music - MR FUSSY A BITCH! He unfairly blamed Mr. Rude when Miss Naughty's the one who ruined the first performance :(

Physical - He doesn't do anything wrong, he was just judging the physical performance in his first bit and just participating in the relay race in his second bit

Farm - He doesn't do anything wrong he just got yeeted lmao

Lake - He doesn't do anything wrong, Mr. Scatterbrain is just a moron

Beach - He doesn't do anything wrong, he just got justifiably mad at Mr. Scatterbrain for being a moron

Booboos - He doesn't do anything wrong, he just helped out Mr. Nervous with his splinter

Mall - He doesn't do anything wrong, Mr. Messy is just gross

Books - fuck you Mr. Noisy

Camping - MR. FUSSY A BITCH! Why the fuck did you invite Miss Chatterbox if you wanted silence, you fuck? She legit just wanted to tell him that she saw the bird :(

Science - Mr. Fussy a bitch to the frogs smh

Paint - He doesn't do anything wrong, Mr. Messy just isn't very considerate :(

Jobs - He doesn't do anything wrong, Mr. Tickle a dumbass

Trains - MR. FUSSY A BITCH! Mr. Rude was literally just living his life you stuck up prick

Hobbies - MR. FUSSY a bit of a bitch? Like, he could've told Miss Naughty in advance that her performance was cancelled :( also he was a dick about it

Fair - he doesn't do anything wrong Miss Naughty's just a bitch

Movies - fuck you Mr. Noisy

Dance - he's barely in it and he's nice :)

Amusement Park - he doesn't do anything wrong he's just a dumbass

Rainy Day - he doesn't do anything wrong, even if he insulted Miss Calamity for no reason. He's just a bit of a dumbass

Dillydale Day - his only real crime is that terrible musical number he's in

Games - fuck you Mr. Noisy

Hotel - I love this bit so much holy fuck he doesn't do anything wrong also hes GAY and its AWESOME

Chores - he doesn't do anything wrong he's just like that

Snow - he doesn't do anything wrong, Mr. Messy's just not very considerate

Food - MR. FUSSY A BITCH! He's mean to Mr. Messy :(

Wildlife - he doesn't do anything wrong, cause he didn't mean to call Mr. Messy a repulsive animal

Restaurants - MR. FUSSY A BITCH! I don't wanna rewatch this one it makes me sad :(

Bugs - he's barely in it and he loses his fucking moustache what the fuck

Circus - hes kinda mean to everyone but not enough for me to count it

Cars - I DONT EVEN KNOW MAN HE'S NOT REALLY BAD HE'S JUST FUCKING STUPID

Canned Goods - he's barely in it and just kinda. exists

Ships - he barely even does anything in the bit he has

Cooking - he doesn't do anything wrong ig

Collecting - MR. FUSSY A BITCH! He stole Mr. Messy's shoes and then destroyed his stuff cause he thought it was gross :(

Heatwave - he doesn't do anything wrong mr messy is just mr messy

Sleep - he doesn't do anything wrong

Carwash - I cant say for sure, I refuse to watch this segment again

Sightseeing - he doesn't do anything wrong, Mr. Messy is just nasty. He's kind of a dick to him though

The Dark - I really don't know on this one. He's kinda mean throughout it but not enough to count but also i kinda wanna count it?? cause hes mean to mr messy a lot??? its weird, he also didnt let mr messy back into his house when he was scared :(

Parade - MR. FUSSY A BITCH! He made fun of both Mr. Rude and Mr. Messy's floats and made up a rule specifically against Mr. Messy which is super fucked up man

SEASON 2

Picnics - He doesn't do anything wrong, Mr. Stubborn is just laughably stupid

Driving - MR. FUSSY A BITCH! He didn't want to help Miss Chatterbox and Mr. Tickle, and even tried to ignore Miss Scary and Mr. Quiet rather than help them :(

Outer Space - MR. FUSSY A BITCH! He asks Miss Scary and Miss Naughty "what's wrong with them" when they were just having fun, and doesn't believe them when the real aliens show up :(

Clean Teeth - does this even count as him being an asshole? like yeah he freaks out on Mr. Rude but he's kinda justified in doing it?? this shouldnt count as him being an asshole but I like mr. rude so. yeah, i'm biased. im not counting this one as mr fussy a bitch but im not giving it a yellow. like, he also calls him disgusting and is a dick the entire time but he's in the right so . ???????? he also calls mr messy gross at the end what am i supposed to do here

Airports - hes a bit of a dick but yeah he was gonna miss his flight thats justified

Shoes - he doesn't do anything wrong he's just trying his best

Arts and Crafts - MR. FUSSY A BITCH! He's mean to Mr. Strong and Mr. Messy, and even calls Mr. Messy's art junk :(

Game Shows - he doesn't do anything wrong, he even makes Mr. Happy a quilt :) Mr. Stubborn is just a fucking moron NEVERMIND MR FUSSY STOLE THE FUCKING QUILT BACK???? RUDE

Garages - he's actually really really nice in this bit!! :D he let Mr. Messy keep his bike in his garage and put off mopping his floor to hang out with Mr. Nosey and Mr. Small :)

Eyeglasses - he's barely in it and is fine ig

Toys - MR. FUSSY A BITCH! oh my fucking god he was doing so good and then right at the end he had to go and be a sore loser, call Mr. Messy disgusting, etc. fucker

Hats - he does nothing wrong, he just wants a hat

Robots - he just lost his bread man

Parties - another gay icon segment! hes pretty poggrs

Up and Down - hes barely in it and hes good

Dining Out - hes fine ig? kind of a dick but not especially so

Gifts - is his fucking birthday hell yea

Telephone - once again i refuse to watch it, i'm assuming he's fine

Seashore - he just vibed the entire time

Washing & Drying - he kinda just existed

Sneezes & Hiccups - yeah. he yells at mr messy for something he cant control but. yehjv

Radio - miss helpful you dumbass

Supermarket - he just wanted some cereal man

Cinema - dude a bunch of gay men invaded his car

Getting Around - yeah

Pets - im getting tired of writing notes hes good ig

Dance Dance Dance - MR. FUSSY A BITCH! for one, he's mean to Mr. Rude the entire time, for two, he completely fucking drags Miss Scary's performance the entire time, and for three - he talks through it the entire time! fucker!!!

Library - just wanted his book man

Pirates - yeah

Goo - Miss Naughty you fucking bitch fucjk you fucky ou fuck you! FUCK YOU!!!!

Trains and Planes - he's kind of dickish but otherwise fine

Lunch - MR. FUSSY A BITCH! For one, why the fuck did you invite Mr. Messy if you didn't want "messiness" at your pristine fucking picnic, why the fuck did you invite Miss Chatterbox if you didn't want her talking, etc, but he's also very ignorant of Mr. Quiet's warnings of the bear ):(

Machines - MR. FUSSY A BITCH! WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU BUY MR. MESSY A MACHINE THAT CLEANS HIS HOUSE??? AGAINST HIS WISHES??? AND HE FUCKING SPECIFICALLY ASKS TO GET IT OUT BUT YOU DONT FUCKING LISTEN AND PROCEED TO CRITICISE HIM??? IT'S HIS FUCKING SPACE, FOR ONE, AND YOU KNOW CLEANLINESS MAKES HIM UNCOMFORTABLE! YOU FUCK! im so fucking mad

Birds - he doesn't do anything wrong he gets fucking yeeted

Bath and Bubbles - this is the only Mr. Fussy bit where he's actually happy at the end and yknow what? boyboss moment

Sand and Surf - MR. FUSSY A BITCH! I know this is a trend but yes, he's a dick to Mr. Quiet and ignores everything he says.

Parks - MR. FUSSY A BITCH! He spends the entire segment bullying Mr. Messy and I am tired of it

Travel - hes kinda dickish the entire time but mmmmmyeah

Bad Weather - i didnt want to watch this one again cause it sucks, i'm assuming he's fine

If you've read to the bottom, then I'm sure you're actually interested in what I have to say about him/the other mr men and little misses. Because I'm definitely going to be doing more of these, please acknowledge going forward that I am one, singular teenager. A teenager susceptible to my own bias, especially when it comes to some of the "negative" characters. Don't take my percentages and data too seriously, as it's all technically based off of my opinions of each segment. Ok bye bye Mr. Noisy's next