Can't touch me, like Gojo—Look good in all my photos
Where a shower would normally be relaxing, this feels almost like a last meal before the day set for his execution. Despite the time that filled the distance from her howler, the soft laughter that hummed over paper and the absurd hat he picked up on his way here, the weight of this inevitable argument weighs heavy. Not just because they'll be fighting, which is lead enough in his gut, but because what they'll be arguing about is too heavy to keep carrying alone. They have to figure some of this out together or risk being suffocated by it.
Shrugging into what plush comforts he can manage around the noose on his throat, he jumps into his navy basketball shorts and pulls on a gray, sleeveless undershirt, the pendant she gave him resting beneath it. A quick run of his fingers through his hair, ends starting to get too long, and he retreats from their room to the gallows, hat clutched in his hand like a promise this won't become ruinous, just painfully liberating.
Bare feet skim over tile with a faint whisper as he turns the corner to the room she's in, one hand pulling anxiously on the back of his neck. His eye is immediately drawn to the arts and crafts she's bent over, the picture of coiled frustration. "You made mine?" he asks with a careful smile. "You show off," he accuses playfully, closing the distance to adorn her with his selection. His blue hair tie glimmers on his wrist as both hands hold out the hot pink and orange fabric fish, dunking its open mouth atop her head. He delivers a swift kiss to her cheek as he does before retreating to fully admire his choice, arms crossed, lips twitching with a smile he can't contain in the slightest. "I think you should wear this even on good days." The fish-hat looks like it's trying to consume her head, it's body sticking straight up above her, tail flopping a bit to the side. A few sequins are woven into the cloth, catching stray light with a shimmer that's cast off on the ground like very reflective scales.
Shrugging into what plush comforts he can manage around the noose on his throat, he jumps into his navy basketball shorts and pulls on a gray, sleeveless undershirt, the pendant she gave him resting beneath it. A quick run of his fingers through his hair, ends starting to get too long, and he retreats from their room to the gallows, hat clutched in his hand like a promise this won't become ruinous, just painfully liberating.
Bare feet skim over tile with a faint whisper as he turns the corner to the room she's in, one hand pulling anxiously on the back of his neck. His eye is immediately drawn to the arts and crafts she's bent over, the picture of coiled frustration. "You made mine?" he asks with a careful smile. "You show off," he accuses playfully, closing the distance to adorn her with his selection. His blue hair tie glimmers on his wrist as both hands hold out the hot pink and orange fabric fish, dunking its open mouth atop her head. He delivers a swift kiss to her cheek as he does before retreating to fully admire his choice, arms crossed, lips twitching with a smile he can't contain in the slightest. "I think you should wear this even on good days." The fish-hat looks like it's trying to consume her head, it's body sticking straight up above her, tail flopping a bit to the side. A few sequins are woven into the cloth, catching stray light with a shimmer that's cast off on the ground like very reflective scales.
Kaisel
Sexy jutsu, I feel like Naruto—Fightin' demons in my head like I'm Itadori
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
