They Are Two Completely Different Things...

that's why Gojo made Yuji's uniform like that

They're happy in my world

I miss the sky from before

But even back then

Though I used to see stars…

I’m sure there used to be more.

Noctalgia: "Sky Grief"

a feeling of sadness felt by some people because light pollution means they can no longer see a dark sky at night

to express sky grief for the accelerating loss of the home environment of our shared skies, a disappearance felt globally and deserving its own field of study of "nyctology"

Sources: 1 2

This started out so hot/fluffy, and then ended so sad teehee ヽ(；▽；)

I have thought way too hard about this. I literally had to restrain myself from adding like all of keshi’s discography, Suguru is just so keshi fan coded BYE.

VERY tempted to turn MANY of these into one shots (either reader insert or stsg, or both teehee), but that’s for when I stop being shy about my writing — hopefully soon AGH. If any of these caught your eye esp for like a Geto one shot or something let me know in my ask and I’ll use it as a kick in my ass to actually post something LOL.

Thanks for coming to whatever this was, I promise my writing is slightly better than these ramblings.

x blue

Headcannon (that no one, and I mean no one, can convince me otherwise):

Geto Suguru is an avid listener of keshi.

and I will elaborate. but the playlists get more soul destroying as we go, you’ve been warned :)))

Could all be taken as part of the main cannon, but also just his character in general, STSG-coded (it is physically impossible for me to avoid and I don’t even want to avoid it), etc.

★ ★ ★ - spicy

- ANGOSTURA

- SOMEBODY

- KISS ME RIGHT

- Say

- beside you

- Like That

- TOUCH

- GET IT (cult leader Geto, anyone?)

(Pls these are all so him and all so hot^)

♡ ♡ ♡ - fluffy

- UNDERSTAND (especially stsg coded goodbye they literally were the only people who ever truly got each other.)

- Soft Spot

- War With Heaven (touch of angst when you think about it ahem so don’t. It’s actually so deep I could make a whole post on that itSELF)

✧ ✧ ✧ - existential but there’s hope

- LIMBO

- Just to Die

- i swear i’ll never leave again

- Forever (don’t think about it too hard tho or it becomes sad immediately)

˙◠˙ ˙◠˙ ˙◠˙ - existential but losing his shit (hidden inventory/premature death arc go extra crazy)

- Requiem

- Id

- Amen

- HELL/HEAVEN

- drunk

- blue

- atlas

- skeletons

;-; ;-; ;-; - kfc trauma

- war

- us

- ANGEL (please don’t think about this from Gojo’s POV unless you don’t love yourself today.)

BONUS:

- GET IT

- Absolutely would’ve been in their shared Pre-Mission Hype Playlist

- GABRIEL

- Chapter 236. GoodBYE.

- ^^ Requiem could also apply I’m gone.

*Though these songs aren’t restricted to stsg dynamic alone, I feel like Satoru relates to a LOT of these/can be taken as seeing from his POV

- ^^ Suguru tortured himself by adding it to the playlist anyway :)))

I feel like this started out more organized than it became, but I’m on 1.5 hrs sleep!!! I just needed it out of my brain and into the world!!!

suguru as a fallen angel makes sm sense to me . it just clicks. because, angels, are created perfect. they cannot do wrong , they cannot sin, they do not question. they are crafted by the hand of god from the purest light. not clay as humans and the beasts of the earth are. angels do not bend. they do not break.

and suguru is an angel but he isn't free of sin. he's made of light but there is evil that consumes him. he questions and thinks and ponders and second guesses. he is capable of fault and in what should be the divine perfection of angels, he has cracks and fractures and half healed wounds . suguru does not bend. does not bend but he'll break. all at once, he'll collapse helplessly in a heap

someone asked gege what is female gaze and as an answer he created geto suguru

𝐌𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠.

Brain Soup

I am a writer.

I swear.

I promise myself: I am a writer!

But my words are stuck.

I don’t think in monologue.

I think in abstract ideas without real words.

I think in colours.

Synesthesia and neurodivergence on paper hints at delicately built structures supporting the colours that move like swirling, shimmering mist inside my brain.

No.

Never have I just one isolated, traceable thought — against my will, every one flutters by on erratic wings, overwhelmed by so many others. Could you keep your eye trained on a single monarch butterfly in a migrating swarm?

My thoughts are strobe lights — echoing, pounding, deep vibrations that reverberate off the walls of my skull in primary colours.

They float like soft, hazy clouds that wistfully blur the sky with creamy lavender, glittering magenta, electric peach, and yearning forget-me-not blue. So full of stories, beckoning me to tell them. My earnest hand strains its tendons, returning with nothing to show for the desperation with which I extended my reach.

They pool at the top of a dark room, iron shades of smoke billowing out of my ears, daring me to latch onto them with a foolish grip. The cloud mocks me from above, choking me with my own sheer volume of intangibility.

I know so badly what I want to say. What I need to say. What I have to say or else I might die.

But none of the words to say it.

My thoughts are a glossy, sticky honey — a glistening liquid with flecks of sunlight, flowing leisurely towards the small opening of its glass container. They are an infuriating, sluggish tar — a languid sludge rolling across the backroads carved into my brain.

Syrup or grease, they ooze with unrivalled lethargy, clogging the channels in which they travel before ever becoming.

But I am a writer, I promise myself.

I am.

I swear.

———————

lightbluefog

kento nanami was a man of unwavering patience and little indulgence. every decision, no matter how small, was carefully well thought out, so you were surprised when he proposed to you after only 3 years and 7 months.

as waves of sunlight illuminated your face, kento sat up in bed with a pen and a newspaper, his bare back against the headboard as he pushed up his glasses. he clears his throat when he feels you shuffle awake, one of his hands snaking its way into your hair.

“good morning, sweetheart.” his voice is husky, clearly just having come from slumber.

you groan against him, nuzzling into the sides of his torso, your cheeks resting against his abs, “good morning to the most wonderful man in the world.”

“you flatter me, my love.” he chuckles against you, and if it were up to nanami, he’d stay in this moment forever, the snug fit of your body against his aiding the sun in warming him up. he snaps the newspaper straight, directing your attention to the item in his hand.

“what’s that?” you ask, closing your eyes and pressing yourself further, as if magnetized.

“today’s word search. would you like to help me?”

you groan, sighing as you pull yourself together and force your eyelids open. you rub your eyes and yawn, mirroring his posture as you sit up and rest your head against his shoulder.

that’s when you see it.

the encircled words: me, my, marry, will, love.

“my love, will you marry me?”

full fic here

satosugu, requested by @artbyerry