[ okkotsu, rather than okkotsu-kun or okkotsu-san. it sticks out, when geto-san has unfailingly referred to megumi by his preferred fushiguro, a yet-unearned honorific attached. ]
that's a lot of pressure, sir. i can just make something up? what if i get it wrong?
it's not pointless. when we save people, or choose not to, it has greater consequences down the line. what if you save someone who goes on to kill hundreds more? what if you don't, and that person was meant to save hundreds, or thousands?
i already know i can beat you. you don't even know RCT the way you are now, do you?
mmmmmmmm does it matter? we cant predict the outcome either way i dont care about savin lives im just here to exorcise curses if you need some just and virtuous reason to do it then sure have fun makin it about that im just sick & tired of hearin bout it
[ suguru rattles on about it often enough. ]
if you think you can win against me just bc i havent mastered rct yet then fight me [ he doesn't consider that a disadvantage tbqh. ]
i think you look really cool. unconventional, but not unattractive.
[ megumi's never had to think about attractiveness in relation to the people he knows. everyone is either a relative or a caretaker, early on, then a peer with whom his affections are sterile and distant. he's not antisocial, but he also didn't have real friends until itadori and kugisaki; it's been a crash course on teenaged hormones since that mission in sendai. ]
gojo-sensei would say it's all about 'carrying yourself' and attitude. being attractive to others, that is. you carry yourself well.
[ gojo satoru is annoying, but he's also annoyingly right all the time. ]
[ ooc | dealer's choice with the level of blood/gore/horror; no animal injury, bathroom activities, mentions of feet, or armpits. xox! ]
[ aluminum cans rattling against cement. the ping-pong rattle of coins spilling out from sticky pockets, paper bills catching at the ribbed seams. bubblegum and pop, as cheap jazz music filters from foamy speakers.
it's all set dressing for a bloody night out on the city. megumi's licking up dried red off his philtrum, his broken, healing nose trickling with a sluggish line down to his teeth. he can taste it in his gums. can taste his gums, the faint wiggle of a back tooth, floating. raw knuckles, raw knees, split garments at the thigh where steeled whispers turned to a rough cackle.
he picks at the exposed skin, traces over the cut lines. reversed curse technique, step by step by finger-step — he's walking his digits over the lines, black invisible fire alighting. breathe in. breathe out. the curse is dead and you're alive.
flip it, reverse it, that childhood desire still hasn't burned itself out.
somewhere in the back of his mind is a thin string tied to a nightmare, and megumi pulls at it. come on, big guy, he prays with one knee on the spit-covered brick of a back alley. oh venerated one, let's play a game. ]
[ Bright white night, a moon myopic and the eye of the world wakeful, alive. Feel of its caged-bird’s heartbeat in his hand, in the whelp’s hand, in ten (count them) fingers fast curling. Spatters of salt water and swill. He spits once, blooded. Again, and it’s not his. Swallows.
He’s kept Itadori Yuuji in the familiar riches of ragged breath and flimsy step, body’s balance off kilter. Doesn’t carry his weight well, never in the first blinks when shadows make man make monster, before possession's complete. Sukuna's is the slow seep of power stretching out a boy's flesh til his stitches groan. Spine rippling straight, unwinding a feline arch. Then, he moves.
Silence gathers around corpses, scavenging. This isn’t enchaining, not when Itadori Yuuji slips dominion freely. No conditions, no allegiance, no thought for tragic women that never make it out of the dark. Nothing to see here. Carry on. Sukuna did.
In the wake of it: scratch of coin rattling loose in a modern priest’s alms bowl; the drip of an earring from Sukuna’s loose hand, thick spittle and an ear’s flaxen cartilage, after. The priest’s gasped breath. No scream.
Stone is sharp and bitter underfoot. He doesn’t run. There is no hunting like the hunting of man who’s prey willing. By the time he’s stumbled on Fushiguro Megumi, the woman’s second earring’s burning weight in Itadori Yuuji’s pocket, passed between fingertips (...eight-nine-ten).
Here, he nearly falters. Errant motes of neon light paint Fushiguro Megumi in livid contrasts. The inevitable scrutiny, owner’s prerogative: his Zenin thing’s a butchered painting, rips in the canvas of a high cheekbone. He reeks of blood old and temptation new, shadow scattered like a wasteland.
There’s the quick animal knowing, the cleaving of Sukuna’s grin on Itadori Yuuji’s face, tongue blatant when it slips over each of his teeth in telltale reminder. His arm snags over Fushiguro Megumi’s shoulders like a noose, red-smeared earring rolled between fingers. )
You wear Gojo Satoru’s scent well. ( Don't, next time. )
the council can 1) gargle some balls 2) gargle more balls 3) you guessed it, gargle even more balls because we're not gonna let it get that bad. maybe just a couple broken limbs.
it's an innocently phrased question. cafes and konbinis and shopping centres lure crowds by the droves on a day like this — sweltering outdoors, barely cool under recirculated air indoors, the summer sun beating down backs and shoulders and forearms like a taskmaster. rarely does megumi take part in the social aspect of community these days, preferring to do his work in literal shadows. a large unnamed donation here, pro bono exorcisms there, rebuilding the reputation of the zen'in clan from the ground up so he doesn't have to focus on self-improvement.
yuji has his own problems, his grief catching up three years on from his exceptionally harrowing introduction to the world of sorcery. kugisaki's off fighting with the family left to her, some domesticity to mask the loss of her eye. everyone else is more or less on the same page of unaddressed trauma; post-traumatic stress disorder, ieiri-san had blithely remarked once. everyone's got it. like the overwhelming proliferation of middle-grade curses in the aftermath of the culling games weren't indication enough.
still, there is some good to balance out the bad. yuji's brother somehow returning for one, resurfacing into the world some time after they've rebuilt the school. something about cursed energy restoring itself to a previous point in time. choso-san is not human, never was; as they understand it, tengen's rebuilt barrier reverted to an earlier, sturdier state, healing itself and its moving parts. like a hard disk save point or a code rollback, a restored file. it didn't differentiate cursed energy, having moved between vessels over thousands of years that it simply filtered out what was and wasn't its own. having long been inert property in the archives previously had given choso-san some recognition. apparently it was enough.
they get so few breaks in the lives they lead that megumi couldn't feel anything else but happiness for yuji and his reunited family. happiness that someone so wholly committed to protecting family can have a second chance, any chance at all. the people who deserve happiness in their world are few and far between, but yuji and choso-san more than deserve it.
(what would it be like, to wear such warmth and love as choso-san places in yuji's hands for himself? what would it be like to have someone choose him for something that has nothing to do with his name, or his power, or his weak-willed nature?)
happiness is rare enough.
he's feeling less happy now, though. mind if i take this seat?, asked this stranger, and megumi has to bite his tongue to stop from spitting out no. it's his one day of the week that he forces himself out of relative isolation, turning off his work phone and muting his cursed energy while he wanders aimless through the streets of tokyo. he gets it now, why gojo-sensei refused to give up his little downtown strolls to hunt for sweets. everyone wants something from you when you're known. the strongest, six eyes, gojo heir. now megumi sits where naobito-san used to try and drown himself in alcohol, sukuna's vessel and gojo's killer haunting him everywhere he turns.
megumi tries to steal little bits of peace for himself like this. pretend to be lost in the crowd, take a seat somewhere, read a book cover to cover, then pick up dinner from a food stall and some snacks to share with yuji and kugisaki and whoever else might still be at the school. he'll sleep next to yuji in his old dorm room, both of them just reminding each other that they're alive. still alive, still in one piece, still the only soul occupying their mortal body. come morning, the zen'in chauffeur will pick him up and drive him back to the estate, and it'll all start over again.
unnamed donations. goodwill exorcisms. mediating between family members and family matters as he grits his teeth through the clans' political bullshit. they're getting somewhere, to be true; they're not getting there fast enough for megumi's liking.
mind if i take this seat? he minds. the guy's college-aged, probably only a year or two over megumi's own. dressed nicely in today's fashion (what an elderly way to say it) and smelling like cologne just enough to toe the line between tasteful and aggressive. the guy stands between megumi and the AC unit, one hand curled around the back bar of the empty chair at megumi's table, presuming some welcome attention. megumi doesn't outright refuse him, but doesn't let him sit either; it takes five questions before the guy offers a name, then another seven before he asks megumi directly for his.
he texts choso-san, makes a point of showing it. the stranger persists; in turn, megumi refuses to retain his name. on and on it continues, and megumi feels his cursed energy begin to spike in frustration, the shadows around his cooling mug and under his feet quivering, waiting.
then—
i'll come.
just that, no softening the words, no couching it with an out or excuse like all the polite, insincere offers megumi gets. is it so selfish to just jump at the lifeline? is he not bothering someone who, ultimately, had died because of his own weakness?
megumi's not going to question it. be more selfish, gojo satoru once said. it's high time he tried to do more than he listens. ]
You made it, [ megumi turns to choso-san with unfettered relief flooding his expression. ] I thought you weren't coming after all.
[ it's not a lie entirely; there had been that brief twitch of doubt in his mind, that maybe choso-san had changed his mind between one message and another like most everyone else had done. abandonment issues, ieiri-san said that too. megumi reaches for choso-san's offered hand and holds on tight, fingers carding through fingers, ankle brushing against leather-covered ankle under the table. he can feel heat rising in his cheeks out of embarrassment, eager as he is for the reassurance of familiar company.
(warm hands. choso-san has warm hands, and megumi's always cold these days.) ]
( --which should also be enough. the gesture, the linking of fingers, the way fushiguro megumi leans into the edge of the table like he might just climb over the top of it, a wild animal searching for the safety of a nest, searching for the shadow of darkness that he casts over the surface by bending himself against it all the same. it should be enough. he's studied enough human gestures in his time to be able to read some of them now without question: there's so much lack of interest here that the stranger would be diving into a pool of empty cement if he tried. it should be easy. it should be unspoken.
it is not easy, and it is not unspoken. fushiguro megumi's fingers feel clammy, a little, bone weary with a cold exhaustion that he feels cycling his own body--not because of the blood, not because of the technique, but because the ordeal hollowed out something inside of megumi, something that sometimes even yuji can't manage to reach. he knows, because yuji talks about it in his quiet, worried way; does the urge to die just disappear so easily, puffed up into smoke? does the urge to live come back like the seasons, surefire like the summer sun, the winter snow? will there be a day that the burden of it all takes its toll again? what's it like to live in this world that's harrowed and distinct and yet seemingly not different at all?
it's not like anyone knows. not like humans, like this guy here, understand what the world feels like, with or without gojou satoru, with or without sukuna.
and he's never hated humans, not really. instead, it's more like he's never really cared: he went through the motions of kenjaku's plan because he saw a way to protect his brothers from the harsh truths of a society that would not accept them. he went through the motions because that was the choice he had. he did it because it didn't really matter, did it? creating a world just for curses would have been easier at the time, not out of hatred or dislike or even disappointment in humans, but just a lack of care entirely.
but a human like this: impudent, annoying, pushing burden onto fushiguro megumi's already bent shoulders--he doesn't like it. )
Company. ( he agrees, in a deep, thoughtful rumble: and as though disappointed that he has to, his gaze swings up towards the stranger, measuring out the emotions that he can read off the filtered expression that shifts across his face like a slide projector. shock, irritation, disgust, and finally, the one that he'd been banking on--worry. with worry comes fear. misunderstanding. seated across from megumi's more slender form, he looks like he might break a window with his shoulders, and his own expression, bland, across his face says he wouldn't hesitate to take out a few ribs--or at least that's what he assumes the stranger is thinking.
careful, his fingers wind around megumi's fingers, his thumb rubbing idly over the inside of his hand. )
He's mine. Go.
( a command that apparently doesn't have to be issued twice, though he's prepared for it--the stranger says something about remembering each other names, did they exchange names? that must have happened before he got there. some mention of seeing each other around and he knows now that fushiguro megumi will likely never stop by this place again, at least not for weeks, or months, because that's the kind of person he is, or perhaps, that's the kind of person he's become.
even when they're left alone, even when the stranger eases away, lurking around near the exit before leaving entirely--he doesn't let go of megumi's hand. )
...I'll stay awhile, and walk you back to your--car, when you're ready. ( the words fumble a little, as though the deadpan surety he'd had in the face of perceived danger now melts back into his clumsy embarrassment; sometimes he forgets that fushiguro megumi is now someone direly important, and here he is, an incarnated jumble of cursed energy that shouldn't be holding on so stubbornly to that chilled touch like it might just slip away.
he retreats to his manners to save himself from thinking too hard on that: a glance to the table, then up to megumi's eyes, steady. )
Can I buy you something to drink? It's warm outside, and your skin is rather flushed.
( he assumes, of course, that's because he's the one with his back to the air conditioning. )
what kind of curse would keep you away for that long?
[ it comes out more like an accusation; gojo satoru, the strongest sorcerer of the modern era, shouldn't really more than week or two. hadn't he been instrumental in ending the night parade of a thousand demons? he can take down special grade curses easily. how can anyone defeat infinity? ]
i'm not questioning you. [ he is, technically. ] i just think if you're worried, then i have a lot more to worried about than bank accounts.
[ this mild miscommunication is certainly not going to bite them in the asses later. just two same-aged relatives talking about boys they like for the other, nothing will go wrong at all. ]
does it matter if he's terrible at flirting. i'm bad at it, you just said as much. what matters is that he understands right from wrong and won't hurt people because it's fun for him. unfortunate as his name is, he's more than that.
does he behave respectably around you, mai-san?
[ he's well familiar with how the men in their family are like, and it's important to megumi that he and the twins can escape at least most of them whenever they can. life is hard enough. ]
[The two of them talking about the same boy that they like for the other is totally a recipe for success, right?]
of course it matters the two of you are bad at it in different ways, but there's still hope for you
[So long as he comes to Mai for advice, and not any of his classmates in Tokyo. She doubts that they have enough braincells collectively to make a proper charmer out of Megumi.
When he describes how a potential partner should behave, Mai already has someone come to mind who doesn't abide by any of that. The way that Megumi words it feels direct enough that he might be thinking of that same person, too. The men in their family really are terrors.]
knowing right from wrong is the bare minimum, isn't it? so he's almost *too* good in that respect
anyway he's fine around me, just kinda boring
bet the two of you have more exciting conversations, though
[She's being snarky there, just a little. But hey, if she's right, that can only mean good things when it comes to setting them up, no?]
I can't fold time and space. You're thinking of someone else for that.
[ like most konbinis outside of the metro, this familymart has a few benches and standing tables lined outside the plate glass front, the largest arrangement currently occupied by sukuna and his collection of consumed food. megumi takes the custard rabbit from out of sukuna's hands, the cream spilling out as it squishes between his fingers. the bread is still warm despite the cool outdoor weather; did sukuna have it toasted by the clerk?
no matter. food is food, and a supervised king of curses is better than one left to his devices. megumi sits next to sukuna, tears pieces off the rabbit to eat. ]
[ Everything purchased was wishful thinking by the brat, who unfortunately succumbed to his night time sleepy drink faster than he used to; ignorant to the amount of energy to takes to host a curse, and how easily a curse can take over when the body and mind can't fight it off.
Yuji is just lucky there's something interesting to occupy Sukuna's attention right here, and that it's no fun to run amok out in the sticks.
Though it's quite clear Sukuna did of course help himself to the spoils. ]
Chicken meat from your era is much different than it was in mine. They are fat, and their muscles underdeveloped and soft. A life devoid of hard work prevents them from becoming stringy and tough.
[ the air gets pushed out of his lungs as he's swept up in a firm, warm hug, and megumi finds himself flushing up to his ears at how easily he's picked up. he's nowhere near baby-sized anymore, certainly, and he's tall and long-limbed now. but he seemingly hadn't inherited his father's body type at all, gone lean and willowy in his adolescence.
so maybe it isn't just yuji's being an impossibly strong guy that makes him easy to lift.
whatever. this is a good hug. the man doesn't smell anything like he thinks he remembers but he feels safe all the same. feels like he's a child again, sat on a rickety couch with someone's heavy, smoke-scented hand holding him steady as he tips side to side on the seat with a book in his small hands.
that much he remembers. that much feels like—
(he hugs back. he hugs back like he won't get a chance again.) ]
[ Not a baby in terms of size, but this is still the most precious little thing the Fushiguros called their own. Shiu has never forgotten the stupid grins on their faces when they showed him their rosy-cheeked little blessing and assigned him some sort of uncle-role. As if his hands weren't dripping with blood, as if he weren't responsible for some of the more heinous jobs Toji has done.
But none of that mattered during those short pastel-toned, sunlight-kissed years, did it? ]
Megumi-chan, that's so cool.
[ Shiu's laugh rumbles in his chest, is felt more than it's heard, as he pets that mop of unruly hair fondly. ]
Not too cool for cuddles, though, hm? Come on, kid, give me the grand tour of your humble abode, eh?
[ moved from here and here. ] if you start treating me like that i'm gonna leave you behind. take me seriously on that, i'll really leave.
[ he's been petty in fights where he could actually die, he can be even more committed to it over a party. but that seems too intense, too, so— ]
for what it's worth, i didn't grow up in it. i went to normal school for most of my life. please treat me no differently from other people.
...i'll show you a ghost if you start acting weird.
[ megumi leaves it at that so he can get ready for the party. it goes pretty well at first, despite the burger orders coming in almost too late, but it turned out to be a nice sendoff for the partygoers and their host was grateful for the assist.
[It's a real threat to Cheng Xiaoshi when Megumi just threatens to leave him behind all willy-nilly like that! ... Stuff like that would make him cry more than seeing a stupid ghost. He really can't stand the idea of his friends (or anyone) leaving him behind.
So!! Threat taken to heart. He won't treat Megumi like he's a royal prince or anything. ... Maybe.
The party goes well enough, and Cheng Xiaoshi is actually very happy to get out for the night!! And to spend time with some friends, getting some party games in, getting more than tipsy.
Then the next conundrum hits them and he's out of bed in the middle of the night, looking for his jacket as he stumbles down the stairs of his place. Once he manages to find it, he yanks on one sleeve and ... finds himself face to face with Megumi.]
How did you find my... You know what? Nevermind. We're got your weird sword to find, right? What does it look like, again?
[ your people megumi-chan, are the sorts that normal people write stories about.
it's the tragedy of uniqueness, if megumi allows himself to think in despairing terms. to be so singularly different among those already in the fringes is a strange kind of isolation, like a sole blue dot amongst a sea of red. or maybe a red stain in the midst of azure blue. sorcerers are equally good and bad, but it's hard to consider the value of such thinking when his experiences have been so overwhelmingly terrible.
too many dead. he has too many dead. he'd rather have them back, that's all.
but making new friends seem worthwhile, too. ]
does kanra-chan mean to go out tonight? megumi will be patrolling in roppongi later, if she's not busy.
[ izaya would say without hesitation that megumi is, first and foremost, human and then second, less important in certain ways, a sorcerer. however, there is no question in his mind that among the extraordinary, megumi is even more so, not because of his powers but because of his feelings.
and izaya is a flea, he lives on the blood of the city; he soaks the emotions of others instead of feeling his own, a safe distance for observation and contemplation. the muted stoicism that hides that depth of feeling is alluring. never sweet but bitter on izaya's tongue. ]
kanra-chan can't izaya might
[ which is as good as 'yes', because the pathways to roppongi aren't littered with vending machines and trash cans aimed at expelling him from the area. as much as playing around in ikebukuro is habit, the inhabitants can entertain themselves without izaya for one night. ]
@gorb
[ okkotsu, rather than okkotsu-kun or okkotsu-san. it sticks out, when geto-san has unfailingly referred to megumi by his preferred fushiguro, a yet-unearned honorific attached. ]
that's a lot of pressure, sir. i can just make something up? what if i get it wrong?
🥰🥰🥰
Well, what do you think is the right message?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
cw: suicidal ideation
megumi pls sign these adoption papers
gojo satoru pls don't return to sender!!!
(no subject)
haha oh no... oh NO
uh oh
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
@sparklingby
i don't appreciate mentioning my family to get out of situations. or mentioning them at all.
was that really all it takes? what happens to the chickens?
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
how'd i miss this
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
@rikugan
it's not pointless. when we save people, or choose not to, it has greater consequences down the line. what if you save someone who goes on to kill hundreds more? what if you don't, and that person was meant to save hundreds, or thousands?
i already know i can beat you. you don't even know RCT the way you are now, do you?
no subject
does it matter?
we cant predict the outcome either way
i dont care about savin lives im just here to exorcise curses
if you need some just and virtuous reason to do it then sure have fun makin it about that
im just sick & tired of hearin bout it
[ suguru rattles on about it often enough. ]
if you think you can win against me just bc i havent mastered rct yet then fight me [ he doesn't consider that a disadvantage tbqh. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
🎀
@deathpainting
i think you look really cool. unconventional, but not unattractive.
[ megumi's never had to think about attractiveness in relation to the people he knows. everyone is either a relative or a caretaker, early on, then a peer with whom his affections are sterile and distant. he's not antisocial, but he also didn't have real friends until itadori and kugisaki; it's been a crash course on teenaged hormones since that mission in sendai. ]
gojo-sensei would say it's all about 'carrying yourself' and attitude. being attractive to others, that is. you carry yourself well.
[ gojo satoru is annoying, but he's also annoyingly right all the time. ]
no subject
But that doesn't matter to you, does it? You look on the inside.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/2
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
🎀
@kachi; plastic stickers on glass bottles
[ aluminum cans rattling against cement. the ping-pong rattle of coins spilling out from sticky pockets, paper bills catching at the ribbed seams. bubblegum and pop, as cheap jazz music filters from foamy speakers.
it's all set dressing for a bloody night out on the city. megumi's licking up dried red off his philtrum, his broken, healing nose trickling with a sluggish line down to his teeth. he can taste it in his gums. can taste his gums, the faint wiggle of a back tooth, floating. raw knuckles, raw knees, split garments at the thigh where steeled whispers turned to a rough cackle.
he picks at the exposed skin, traces over the cut lines. reversed curse technique, step by step by finger-step — he's walking his digits over the lines, black invisible fire alighting. breathe in. breathe out. the curse is dead and you're alive.
flip it, reverse it, that childhood desire still hasn't burned itself out.
somewhere in the back of his mind is a thin string tied to a nightmare, and megumi pulls at it. come on, big guy, he prays with one knee on the spit-covered brick of a back alley. oh venerated one, let's play a game. ]
no subject
[ Bright white night, a moon myopic and the eye of the world wakeful, alive. Feel of its caged-bird’s heartbeat in his hand, in the whelp’s hand, in ten (count them) fingers fast curling. Spatters of salt water and swill. He spits once, blooded. Again, and it’s not his. Swallows.
He’s kept Itadori Yuuji in the familiar riches of ragged breath and flimsy step, body’s balance off kilter. Doesn’t carry his weight well, never in the first blinks when shadows make man make monster, before possession's complete. Sukuna's is the slow seep of power stretching out a boy's flesh til his stitches groan. Spine rippling straight, unwinding a feline arch. Then, he moves.
Silence gathers around corpses, scavenging. This isn’t enchaining, not when Itadori Yuuji slips dominion freely. No conditions, no allegiance, no thought for tragic women that never make it out of the dark. Nothing to see here. Carry on. Sukuna did.
In the wake of it: scratch of coin rattling loose in a modern priest’s alms bowl; the drip of an earring from Sukuna’s loose hand, thick spittle and an ear’s flaxen cartilage, after. The priest’s gasped breath. No scream.
Stone is sharp and bitter underfoot. He doesn’t run. There is no hunting like the hunting of man who’s prey willing. By the time he’s stumbled on Fushiguro Megumi, the woman’s second earring’s burning weight in Itadori Yuuji’s pocket, passed between fingertips (...eight-nine-ten).
Here, he nearly falters. Errant motes of neon light paint Fushiguro Megumi in livid contrasts. The inevitable scrutiny, owner’s prerogative: his Zenin thing’s a butchered painting, rips in the canvas of a high cheekbone. He reeks of blood old and temptation new, shadow scattered like a wasteland.
There’s the quick animal knowing, the cleaving of Sukuna’s grin on Itadori Yuuji’s face, tongue blatant when it slips over each of his teeth in telltale reminder. His arm snags over Fushiguro Megumi’s shoulders like a noose, red-smeared earring rolled between fingers. )
You wear Gojo Satoru’s scent well. ( Don't, next time. )
@coexhaust
it's not like there are a lot of people this approach would work on.
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
@limitlessvoid
it's part of the mission that you passed on.
ty ty
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
@sparklingby
the spirit is a little annoyed.
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
@cursedfist
have you tried doing timed tasks? like the pomodoro method?
[ trust megumi to bottle-test efficiency techniques. ]
i worry about you. sleep is important.
no subject
are YOU sleeping enough?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
@indeterminates
ah, that's true. i'm not someone who likes big gestures, so i never know what people think about them.
how good are you at talking to people? i can try tracking whoever owned this ring while you talk to the bakery, maybe that'll get us moving faster?
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
@bombaye
[ so she's appointing herself as an auntie. this seems troubling. ]
i appreciate your enthusiasm, tsukumo-san. please give less of it for now.
if anyone dies i'm telling the council this plan was your idea.
no subject
the council can 1) gargle some balls 2) gargle more balls 3) you guessed it, gargle even more balls because we're not gonna let it get that bad. maybe just a couple broken limbs.
are you any good at kicking down doors?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
@deathpainting
[ mind if i take this seat?
it's an innocently phrased question. cafes and konbinis and shopping centres lure crowds by the droves on a day like this — sweltering outdoors, barely cool under recirculated air indoors, the summer sun beating down backs and shoulders and forearms like a taskmaster. rarely does megumi take part in the social aspect of community these days, preferring to do his work in literal shadows. a large unnamed donation here, pro bono exorcisms there, rebuilding the reputation of the zen'in clan from the ground up so he doesn't have to focus on self-improvement.
yuji has his own problems, his grief catching up three years on from his exceptionally harrowing introduction to the world of sorcery. kugisaki's off fighting with the family left to her, some domesticity to mask the loss of her eye. everyone else is more or less on the same page of unaddressed trauma; post-traumatic stress disorder, ieiri-san had blithely remarked once. everyone's got it. like the overwhelming proliferation of middle-grade curses in the aftermath of the culling games weren't indication enough.
still, there is some good to balance out the bad. yuji's brother somehow returning for one, resurfacing into the world some time after they've rebuilt the school. something about cursed energy restoring itself to a previous point in time. choso-san is not human, never was; as they understand it, tengen's rebuilt barrier reverted to an earlier, sturdier state, healing itself and its moving parts. like a hard disk save point or a code rollback, a restored file. it didn't differentiate cursed energy, having moved between vessels over thousands of years that it simply filtered out what was and wasn't its own. having long been inert property in the archives previously had given choso-san some recognition. apparently it was enough.
they get so few breaks in the lives they lead that megumi couldn't feel anything else but happiness for yuji and his reunited family. happiness that someone so wholly committed to protecting family can have a second chance, any chance at all. the people who deserve happiness in their world are few and far between, but yuji and choso-san more than deserve it.
(what would it be like, to wear such warmth and love as choso-san places in yuji's hands for himself? what would it be like to have someone choose him for something that has nothing to do with his name, or his power, or his weak-willed nature?)
happiness is rare enough.
he's feeling less happy now, though. mind if i take this seat?, asked this stranger, and megumi has to bite his tongue to stop from spitting out no. it's his one day of the week that he forces himself out of relative isolation, turning off his work phone and muting his cursed energy while he wanders aimless through the streets of tokyo. he gets it now, why gojo-sensei refused to give up his little downtown strolls to hunt for sweets. everyone wants something from you when you're known. the strongest, six eyes, gojo heir. now megumi sits where naobito-san used to try and drown himself in alcohol, sukuna's vessel and gojo's killer haunting him everywhere he turns.
megumi tries to steal little bits of peace for himself like this. pretend to be lost in the crowd, take a seat somewhere, read a book cover to cover, then pick up dinner from a food stall and some snacks to share with yuji and kugisaki and whoever else might still be at the school. he'll sleep next to yuji in his old dorm room, both of them just reminding each other that they're alive. still alive, still in one piece, still the only soul occupying their mortal body. come morning, the zen'in chauffeur will pick him up and drive him back to the estate, and it'll all start over again.
unnamed donations. goodwill exorcisms. mediating between family members and family matters as he grits his teeth through the clans' political bullshit. they're getting somewhere, to be true; they're not getting there fast enough for megumi's liking.
mind if i take this seat? he minds. the guy's college-aged, probably only a year or two over megumi's own. dressed nicely in today's fashion (what an elderly way to say it) and smelling like cologne just enough to toe the line between tasteful and aggressive. the guy stands between megumi and the AC unit, one hand curled around the back bar of the empty chair at megumi's table, presuming some welcome attention. megumi doesn't outright refuse him, but doesn't let him sit either; it takes five questions before the guy offers a name, then another seven before he asks megumi directly for his.
he texts choso-san, makes a point of showing it. the stranger persists; in turn, megumi refuses to retain his name. on and on it continues, and megumi feels his cursed energy begin to spike in frustration, the shadows around his cooling mug and under his feet quivering, waiting.
then—
i'll come.
just that, no softening the words, no couching it with an out or excuse like all the polite, insincere offers megumi gets. is it so selfish to just jump at the lifeline? is he not bothering someone who, ultimately, had died because of his own weakness?
megumi's not going to question it. be more selfish, gojo satoru once said. it's high time he tried to do more than he listens. ]
You made it, [ megumi turns to choso-san with unfettered relief flooding his expression. ] I thought you weren't coming after all.
[ it's not a lie entirely; there had been that brief twitch of doubt in his mind, that maybe choso-san had changed his mind between one message and another like most everyone else had done. abandonment issues, ieiri-san said that too. megumi reaches for choso-san's offered hand and holds on tight, fingers carding through fingers, ankle brushing against leather-covered ankle under the table. he can feel heat rising in his cheeks out of embarrassment, eager as he is for the reassurance of familiar company.
(warm hands. choso-san has warm hands, and megumi's always cold these days.) ]
I was just saying I was waiting for company.
no subject
it is not easy, and it is not unspoken. fushiguro megumi's fingers feel clammy, a little, bone weary with a cold exhaustion that he feels cycling his own body--not because of the blood, not because of the technique, but because the ordeal hollowed out something inside of megumi, something that sometimes even yuji can't manage to reach. he knows, because yuji talks about it in his quiet, worried way; does the urge to die just disappear so easily, puffed up into smoke? does the urge to live come back like the seasons, surefire like the summer sun, the winter snow? will there be a day that the burden of it all takes its toll again? what's it like to live in this world that's harrowed and distinct and yet seemingly not different at all?
it's not like anyone knows. not like humans, like this guy here, understand what the world feels like, with or without gojou satoru, with or without sukuna.
and he's never hated humans, not really. instead, it's more like he's never really cared: he went through the motions of kenjaku's plan because he saw a way to protect his brothers from the harsh truths of a society that would not accept them. he went through the motions because that was the choice he had. he did it because it didn't really matter, did it? creating a world just for curses would have been easier at the time, not out of hatred or dislike or even disappointment in humans, but just a lack of care entirely.
but a human like this: impudent, annoying, pushing burden onto fushiguro megumi's already bent shoulders--he doesn't like it. )
Company. ( he agrees, in a deep, thoughtful rumble: and as though disappointed that he has to, his gaze swings up towards the stranger, measuring out the emotions that he can read off the filtered expression that shifts across his face like a slide projector. shock, irritation, disgust, and finally, the one that he'd been banking on--worry. with worry comes fear. misunderstanding. seated across from megumi's more slender form, he looks like he might break a window with his shoulders, and his own expression, bland, across his face says he wouldn't hesitate to take out a few ribs--or at least that's what he assumes the stranger is thinking.
careful, his fingers wind around megumi's fingers, his thumb rubbing idly over the inside of his hand. )
He's mine. Go.
( a command that apparently doesn't have to be issued twice, though he's prepared for it--the stranger says something about remembering each other names, did they exchange names? that must have happened before he got there. some mention of seeing each other around and he knows now that fushiguro megumi will likely never stop by this place again, at least not for weeks, or months, because that's the kind of person he is, or perhaps, that's the kind of person he's become.
even when they're left alone, even when the stranger eases away, lurking around near the exit before leaving entirely--he doesn't let go of megumi's hand. )
...I'll stay awhile, and walk you back to your--car, when you're ready. ( the words fumble a little, as though the deadpan surety he'd had in the face of perceived danger now melts back into his clumsy embarrassment; sometimes he forgets that fushiguro megumi is now someone direly important, and here he is, an incarnated jumble of cursed energy that shouldn't be holding on so stubbornly to that chilled touch like it might just slip away.
he retreats to his manners to save himself from thinking too hard on that: a glance to the table, then up to megumi's eyes, steady. )
Can I buy you something to drink? It's warm outside, and your skin is rather flushed.
( he assumes, of course, that's because he's the one with his back to the air conditioning. )
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
@fourtigersword
it's fine. face masks are always welcome here. uh, don't mind the scars too?
[ megumi has some pretty prominent ones, after all. ]
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
@mrblueeyes
what kind of curse would keep you away for that long?
[ it comes out more like an accusation; gojo satoru, the strongest sorcerer of the modern era, shouldn't really more than week or two. hadn't he been instrumental in ending the night parade of a thousand demons? he can take down special grade curses easily. how can anyone defeat infinity? ]
i'm not questioning you. [ he is, technically. ] i just think if you're worried, then i have a lot more to worried about than bank accounts.
no subject
or tsumiki
but sure, let's take the question at face value--what kind of curse could be a problem for me? you can figure this out.
I can SEE and HEAR with Infinity fully activated. Therefore, what kind of attacks does it not defend against?
(no subject)
me over here handsteepled questioning the physics of every sentence i write
me, having failed physics: this is fine.png
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/2
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
@sevensanctions
i'm not above committing crimes in response to crimes, to be clear. this guy is just... annoying. how bad would it be to knock someone out in public?
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
@onepromise
[ this mild miscommunication is certainly not going to bite them in the asses later. just two same-aged relatives talking about boys they like for the other, nothing will go wrong at all. ]
does it matter if he's terrible at flirting. i'm bad at it, you just said as much. what matters is that he understands right from wrong and won't hurt people because it's fun for him. unfortunate as his name is, he's more than that.
does he behave respectably around you, mai-san?
[ he's well familiar with how the men in their family are like, and it's important to megumi that he and the twins can escape at least most of them whenever they can. life is hard enough. ]
thank youuu!
of course it matters
the two of you are bad at it in different ways, but there's still hope for you
[So long as he comes to Mai for advice, and not any of his classmates in Tokyo. She doubts that they have enough braincells collectively to make a proper charmer out of Megumi.
When he describes how a potential partner should behave, Mai already has someone come to mind who doesn't abide by any of that. The way that Megumi words it feels direct enough that he might be thinking of that same person, too. The men in their family really are terrors.]
knowing right from wrong is the bare minimum, isn't it?
so he's almost *too* good in that respect
anyway he's fine around me, just kinda boring
bet the two of you have more exciting conversations, though
[She's being snarky there, just a little. But hey, if she's right, that can only mean good things when it comes to setting them up, no?]
@coexhaust
[ well, what else was he expecting? ]
I can't fold time and space. You're thinking of someone else for that.
[ like most konbinis outside of the metro, this familymart has a few benches and standing tables lined outside the plate glass front, the largest arrangement currently occupied by sukuna and his collection of consumed food. megumi takes the custard rabbit from out of sukuna's hands, the cream spilling out as it squishes between his fingers. the bread is still warm despite the cool outdoor weather; did sukuna have it toasted by the clerk?
no matter. food is food, and a supervised king of curses is better than one left to his devices. megumi sits next to sukuna, tears pieces off the rabbit to eat. ]
Was this your order or Yuji's?
no subject
[ Everything purchased was wishful thinking by the brat, who unfortunately succumbed to his night time sleepy drink faster than he used to; ignorant to the amount of energy to takes to host a curse, and how easily a curse can take over when the body and mind can't fight it off.
Yuji is just lucky there's something interesting to occupy Sukuna's attention right here, and that it's no fun to run amok out in the sticks.
Though it's quite clear Sukuna did of course help himself to the spoils. ]
Chicken meat from your era is much different than it was in mine. They are fat, and their muscles underdeveloped and soft. A life devoid of hard work prevents them from becoming stringy and tough.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
@autumndrizzle
Well, I'm not a baby anym—oof!
[ the air gets pushed out of his lungs as he's swept up in a firm, warm hug, and megumi finds himself flushing up to his ears at how easily he's picked up. he's nowhere near baby-sized anymore, certainly, and he's tall and long-limbed now. but he seemingly hadn't inherited his father's body type at all, gone lean and willowy in his adolescence.
so maybe it isn't just yuji's being an impossibly strong guy that makes him easy to lift.
whatever. this is a good hug. the man doesn't smell anything like he thinks he remembers but he feels safe all the same. feels like he's a child again, sat on a rickety couch with someone's heavy, smoke-scented hand holding him steady as he tips side to side on the seat with a book in his small hands.
that much he remembers. that much feels like—
(he hugs back. he hugs back like he won't get a chance again.) ]
I'm in high school now, you know.
no subject
But none of that mattered during those short pastel-toned, sunlight-kissed years, did it? ]
Megumi-chan, that's so cool.
[ Shiu's laugh rumbles in his chest, is felt more than it's heard, as he pets that mop of unruly hair fondly. ]
Not too cool for cuddles, though, hm? Come on, kid, give me the grand tour of your humble abode, eh?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
@diveintime
if you start treating me like that i'm gonna leave you behind. take me seriously on that, i'll really leave.
[ he's been petty in fights where he could actually die, he can be even more committed to it over a party. but that seems too intense, too, so— ]
for what it's worth, i didn't grow up in it. i went to normal school for most of my life. please treat me no differently from other people.
...i'll show you a ghost if you start acting weird.
[ megumi leaves it at that so he can get ready for the party. it goes pretty well at first, despite the burger orders coming in almost too late, but it turned out to be a nice sendoff for the partygoers and their host was grateful for the assist.
then he lost his sword, and—— ]
i'm downstairs. are you dressed?
[ don't ask how he found your place. ]
no subject
So!! Threat taken to heart. He won't treat Megumi like he's a royal prince or anything. ... Maybe.
The party goes well enough, and Cheng Xiaoshi is actually very happy to get out for the night!! And to spend time with some friends, getting some party games in, getting more than tipsy.
Then the next conundrum hits them and he's out of bed in the middle of the night, looking for his jacket as he stumbles down the stairs of his place. Once he manages to find it, he yanks on one sleeve and ... finds himself face to face with Megumi.]
How did you find my... You know what? Nevermind. We're got your weird sword to find, right? What does it look like, again?
@precocity
[ your people megumi-chan, are the sorts that normal people write stories about.
it's the tragedy of uniqueness, if megumi allows himself to think in despairing terms. to be so singularly different among those already in the fringes is a strange kind of isolation, like a sole blue dot amongst a sea of red. or maybe a red stain in the midst of azure blue. sorcerers are equally good and bad, but it's hard to consider the value of such thinking when his experiences have been so overwhelmingly terrible.
too many dead. he has too many dead. he'd rather have them back, that's all.
but making new friends seem worthwhile, too. ]
does kanra-chan mean to go out tonight? megumi will be patrolling in roppongi later, if she's not busy.
ty for moving us!
and izaya is a flea, he lives on the blood of the city; he soaks the emotions of others instead of feeling his own, a safe distance for observation and contemplation. the muted stoicism that hides that depth of feeling is alluring. never sweet but bitter on izaya's tongue. ]
kanra-chan can't
izaya might
[ which is as good as 'yes', because the pathways to roppongi aren't littered with vending machines and trash cans aimed at expelling him from the area. as much as playing around in ikebukuro is habit, the inhabitants can entertain themselves without izaya for one night. ]
around 11 or so?
was getting so mad about dw hiding comments too 😭
i have given up on that i'm like ok bye comment i'll think of u fondly.....
@powerview
[ he already gets hives asking for an allowance, he's being brave this way ]
you're such a
can i at least type this report instead of handwriting it? just because the school is stuck in the meiji era doesn't mean my education has to be, too.
no subject
I'm such a great, generous sensei, I know!
sureeeee
But it needs your signature, so after you print it, sign it~
[next meeting with the old men is going to be fun]
We need to overhaul this entire report thing
make it a "check this box if this happened" sort of thing
hmmmmmmmmmm
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
i think we can close out here?
lol yes :))
@limitlessvoid
don't make me kick you.
no one knows how to look after you if you get hurt. of course i'm worried.
no subject
Enough with the elder abuse and badmouthing Shoko.
Where's my food???
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)