#shoukous

[incantat1ons]

brows RISE high on forehead, you nearly stumble as you make way to other's vicinity. it had been AGES since you've last seen her ! always off somewhere else and it was not as if 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 would recall or ever point you in the correct direction either. arms rise above head, feet colliding with gravel and you must resemble a 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐄 galloping along land as you do so.

❛ SHOKO ! ❜

when you reach @shoukous, you SQUEEZE, face buried in her neck and eyes shutting as you sigh HAPPILY. pulling back after a moment, nose crinkles and hands touch at brown length falling over her shoulders,

❛ your hair ! it's SO long ! ❜

[satoruhs]

@shoukous “ weird works for me. ”

he laughs into the crown of shoko's head, the type of laughter that he knows annoys her the most. huffing into her hair, his hand curling on her nape, nose rubbing into her scalp. he takes a moment before speaking to inhale the scent of her shampoo—its warm and sweet, satoru can imagine the bottle being named being something like tropical delight, or eternal summer. her hair is soft and shiny, brushed to a perfect sheen thanks to her hair routine that satoru feels borders on a medieval - torture technique, but always works wonders.

shoko is all soft when ready for bed, and he's the one privileged enough to see her like this. free from the weight of their duties ( if only for a few hours ), able to relax into the version of herself that's loose - limbed and cracks smiles more easily at his terrible jokes.

" i'd hope so. being fine with curses and cadavers, but then drawing the line at my sleeping habits, seems a bit hypocritical. "

satoru noses down to her temple and kisses the corner of her eye. the half-snort she gives him is the sweetest sound. it's enough to ease the self - consciousness teisring in his stomach since he told shoko about the sleep talking. nothing too major, but he'd been told more than once that it caught people off - guard, the quiet of the night broken by satoru's disjointed conversations with whatever resided in his dreams. from the times he's recorded himself he's learnt it's mostly harmless babbling, but sometimes it gets a little too creepy. sometimes satoru says names and—

sometimes—

his other hand, settled on her hips, tightens a bit. satoru softens his hold and apologetically rubs his thumb over her skin.

" you won't hear ominous latin or a murder confession, I promise. just . . . don't freak out if you hear me saying the alphabet backwards. "

[aicidos]

@shoukous + cont.

he had always thought, ever since moving here, that the overhead lights at his apartment were clinical in their cool-toned scrutiny. and mabye ieiri noticed. maybe she felt right at home. maybe the table that once supported kento’s two-course meal was now cleared and prepped for operation, and he only realized it the moment she forewent the anesthesia. the knife of her words dug into him like she had done to the pork cutlet a mere hour earlier, slicing with precision into the tender fibers. 

your life is yours to live. the words sound obscene and sobering. and then there’s dread. the after-hours and countless statistics to analyze and faceless people to call. this really isn’t living. but sorcery doesn’t have much living involved, either. the truth of the matter is: he lives life for others, and there used to be fulfillment in that when sorcery had meaning. it's an ongoing search, a subconscious hope.

if he were to really bleed in order to show the mess she has made, her hands would be drenched and the table stained. it’s an endearing sight.

“ieiri-san,” he says, finally, after that long stretch of silence and all that staring at her fingers. “even back then, you were always different from them.” higher-ups and students alike. there must be an image with all five of them somewhere in his drawer, turned upside down. there’s a willpower in her that nanami had only ever found in haibara, but she lacked that ingenuity that killed him. in fact, ieiri was more self-aware than any of them. 

the fabric of his shirt stretches just so as he folds his arms over his chest, leaning back. “i could never understand how it felt to have not only the school’s expectations on you, but your clan’s too.”

[kasumies]

a body can only ache as much the soul allows... it must then mean that her soul is stronger than she first thought (for the ache inside of her is untold and violent: it cuts against the parts of miwa that struggle to remain soft). she is awash with worry, a state not unusual for the young girl. though she has tried her best to hide it around the older woman, it is no doubt written into the squiggle of her mouth. her hands fidget, her eyes barely grazing the flowing landscapes that pass by the train's window. it is terrible to be chosen for anything, really ---- the weighted faith of others in miwa's ability often feels misplaced [ she does not need to speak these words into existence: her face maps out the gentle tug of anxiety ]. when the cart passes with coffee, it taps against miwa's seat. she jostles from her daydream. an apologetic smile is aimed, loaded as a gun, at both the service man and at shoko.

' i haven't made for good conversation, have i? ' there are still hours in the journey to go: she has been steadfast in watching the clock tick away its slow, teasing seconds. she smiles her sorrows away (this is a practiced art, more familiar to her than the weight of her sword). ' i'm sorry... todo - kun gave me a book of conversation starters last year. for my birthday. i think i brought it with me. ' she reaches into her bag, letting her hands ghost over snacks. ' ah, or we can sit in silence some more. it's beautiful out there, isn't it, @shoukous? '

[1sugnru]

✧ @shoukous : i thought I could save him. i tried. but it didn’t work. ❞

he had silently said his good - byes in the mortuary, as though mindful thought would reach haibara wherever his soul had decided to take rest. kento nanami was barely reachable through the veil of his own guilt and grief, but suguru found he had little comfort to offer other than the cold logic he reconciled himself with — this was all, in some measure, the price that had to be paid for the power they could obtain as jujutsu sorcerers. he sat adjacent to shoko in one of the empty classrooms, eyes glued to the sun - bleached flies laying motionless on the wooden sill. the heat crackled beyond the glass windows, sun bleeding through. “ he was likely already gone. ” the words were cold leaving his mouth, heavy and grave. “ haibara wouldn't want you to beat yourself up about it. ” gaze lifted to her form, and he tried to offer some peace of mind, his words an olive - branch outstretched to her own internal conflicts. “ you did your best, he would've said that was enough. ”

his conversation with yuki tsukumo played within the confines of his thoughts like loud static. suguru thought, what had haibara died for? the cursed spirit was being exorcised by satoru, so there was no victory to be placed upon his death, so perhaps no greater meaning. the younger boy had said, i just like being able to do something that not everyone else can do, but why did it have to be that way? how many more lives would be lost to the endless need for salvation they had been commanded they pledged their lives to? tch. he wished the answer would find him. “ shoko. ” words carried on thoughtful tone, suguru worked to meet her gaze. “ why did you want to become a jujutsu sorcerer? ”

[sanemi]

if it's u that keeps sending anon hate please just let it go omg

It’s not me and fortunately i already “let it go” a while ago. Thanks

[ruingod]

            ˚            ᵗʰᵉ   ᵛᵒⁱᶜᵉ   ᶠʳᵒᵐ   ᵗʰᵉ   ᵒᵘᵗᵉʳʷᵒʳˡᵈ   ʷʰⁱˢᵖᵉʳᵉᵈ        :             "       𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚗   𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏   𝚞𝚙.   𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎   𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐   𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍   𝚊𝚕𝚕   𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛   𝚝𝚑𝚎   𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎,    "

             [     ...     ]               𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘   𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘   𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄   a   moment    ...    barely   even   a   second,    before   chaos   will   rain   down   on   them   and   his   true   task   begins    :    leading   the   war   in   his   father's   name   at   the   cost   of   a   billion   defiants'   head   on   a   spike.    paul   took   this   time   to   spare   whatever   time   he   could   with   his   family's   closest   confidante    —    even   at   times   like   these,    the   threat   of   strife   looming   behind   their   shoulders   closer   than   ever,    @shoukous   still   manages   to   bring   out   a   soft   chuckle.    a   rare   commodity,    few   and   far   in   between   his   pledges   to   reign   in   the   new   world   order.    "    i   thought   this   was   supposed   to   make   me   look   like   a   fighter   amongst   men.    battle   scars,    blood   of   thy   enemy    ...    all   that,    "    his   words   carrying   an   unfamiliar   tease   through   dark   times   ahead,    bright   cerulean   lifting   to   meet   her   own.    "    why,    did   you   much   prefer   what   i   looked   like   before    ?    "    the   question   carries   a   deep   allusion    ;    how   do   you   feel   about   the   duke's   son,    paul   atreides    v.s.    the   messiah,    paul   muad'bib   atreides    ?

[aicidos]

@shoukous + prompt: you  really  are  being  melodramatic  about  this  whole  thing. hilarious that shōko would say this to KENTO of all people. he's probably just sighed a little louder than usual

it’s meant to be a one-night trip only, or so were the instructions he received earlier that morning. a hostage rescue, his first one at that, and yet no one seemed to have the slow-creeping feeling he fostered as soon as he heard the words. what he called a premonition, others called pessimism— haibara, mostly. you’re always thinking about the worst-case scenario, nanami-kun. it scratched the varnish off of his coolheadedness, every time. 

so yes, he did pack an extra set of his uniform out of a mere hunch, just in case.

not unlike a cat, ieiri laid on his bed and stared down at his place on the floor while he packed his suitcase, chiming in when she saw hard lines of his expression. at this young age, someone of her caliber was always commanded to stay in school grounds, especially in the face of a mission of this scale. nanami found that to be the single relief in this entire endeavor. not that he would admit it, though, especially with the teasing glint in her eye he noticed when he looked at her briefly.

“it’s not like i’m being sent to vacation, ieiri-san.” he replied as he folded the last pair of socks, zipping the suitcase closed, and leaving his hand there for a few moments too long. “i get the feeling something’s getting overlooked, is all.” i have no way of knowing what, though. perhaps this was just him getting ahead of himself, claiming a foresight he could not back up with actual field experience. but the feeling still lingered. 

“...you really do trust getou-san and gojo-san to handle this properly.” and he realized, then, that he himself didn’t. not fully.