svgurugeto

[svgurugeto]

is it casual now?

[svgurugeto]

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔’𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐓𝐎 𝐀 𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓.  Howling winds had kept the tattoo artist up all night —-- the windows of his apartment rattling incessantly, drowned out only by the sounds of rain as it pitter-pattered against the roof of his apartment building.  A thunderstorm had swept through Sunset Park, still continuing into the early hours of dawn —-- eagerly scattering trash and debris into the streets of Brooklyn.  When his alarm clock finally went off, Suguru couldn't help but groan —-- flipping his pillow over to instead bury his face into its cooler side, opting to snooze through his favorite verse of a Loathe song for as long as possible. 

Suguru barely felt like a person today.  It was easy enough to blame the weather, though he knew the most likely cause for his latest bout of insomnia was his sudden switch in antidepressants.  It was only when his final wake-the-fuck-up-or-you’re-going-to-be-late-for-work alarm went off that Suguru forced himself out of bed —-- his long black hair disheveled and slightly knotted as he dragged himself into the bathroom, determined not to look into the mirror to see how exhaustion had painted the fragile skin beneath his eyes in various shades of blue.  Suguru opted to pull the top layer of his hair back into his usual bun after throwing on an old, worn-in Clash t-shirt and a pair of ripped black jeans.  He brushed his teeth and took his medications, going about his typical routine before inevitably leaving for work.

He threw on a hooded jacket and his backpack before locking up and making his way down to the street.  Suguru narrowly missed the muddy spray of a bus speeding through a puddle as he made his way across several blocks, nodding in acknowledgement to the other store owners setting up for the day as they greeted him. Shibusa —-- Suguru’s pride and joy of a tattoo shop —-- was thankfully only a five minute walk away his apartment.  He considered it his home away from home for as long as he could remember… and even though the rent was a bit higher than he ultimately would’ve liked, he was pulling in enough clientele these days to keep the doors open and enough money in his pocket.  Enough to call it even, at least —-- he still had several other tattoo artists and staff members to pay, as well as books to balance.  Things weren’t exactly easy, these days, but Suguru’s ability to persevere through difficult times was something that he was very proud of. He didn’t need much to get by… —-- he didn’t consider himself a materialistic person, at least.

A side effect of being raised in the American foster system, he could only assume.

Suguru unlocked the back door of his shop and walked up the concrete steps to the main floor.  He threw his backpack on the chair at his workstation with a sigh before flipping on the lights.  The computer was next, humming to life before revealing his schedule for the day.

Ah, right… —-- he forgot his day had been booked out already.  And by only one client, at that —-- one whole Satoru.  No surname or context, other than a note that read ‘cool dragon.’

Cool dragon.

Suguru made a mental note to discuss Choso’s note taking  ( or lack thereof )  when he came in later.  Regardless, he couldn’t help but perk up at the sight of a Japanese name in the scheduling tool.  While Sunset Park had a large Asian population, it wasn’t all too common for Japanese folk to pay Shibusa a visit.  Despite how progressive of a city New York was, there was still a bit of apprehension around body modification and tattoos in general —-- especially for those that traveled back and forth from Japan, where they were still very much looked down upon.

He supposed it was time for him to settle in and start sketching out this cool dragon. There were no reference photos attached to the intake form, either, so it looked like he was on his own for this. Suguru got the shop's coffee machine set up and percolating before he put on his favorite Spotify playlist and got to work.

He could only hope that this Satoru guy liked whatever he came up with when he inevitably arrived for his full-day session. / @limitlesses

[svgurugeto]

𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐒𝐎 𝐓𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐍’𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐃.  His hands were tear-stained and slightly damp —- only having just left the confines of his face to feel the pulsing sensation of Satoru’s quick responses —- but they were careful around the eyes that adorned the cube.  It appeared to Suguru that they were still actively searching for something.

He couldn’t help but wonder: did those eyes truly represent Satoru’s?  Was he looking around at Suguru’s surroundings, trying to figure out where he was?  Oh, Satoru … where else would he have been, if not in the place that reminded him most of you?

Suguru found himself looking around the abandoned home, as well —- wanting to be closer to the other, to see through his eyes; to know what Satoru was thinking.  Suguru had only seen the ugliness of this world —- had only felt shame and disgust towards himself, at the very end of it all. But Satoru … his Satoru, the strongest sorcerer of the modern age … Satoru had always seen so much more than Suguru ever could, or ever thought himself capable of. 

This akiya, too, had seen it all —- the countless arguments, the angry tears and physical altercations when the frustration over Suguru’s defection and lack of communication got to be too much … the agony surrounding the cult leader’s lack of care around his mental and emotional well-being, and his new, chosen family’s encouragement of that pain, as if they didn’t see it for what it had been —- a cry for help, unheard and left to fester and die alongside whatever remained of Suguru’s morality, his ability to trust…

It hadn’t all been bad, though —- there had still been love here; a softness that remained despite everything they had been through, both separately and together.  A familiarity that spanned countless lifetimes.  He had picked up Satoru’s pieces here, in this very bed, and put him back together when the world had become too much … too loud, too violent, too demanding of him.  Gentle hands had cradled his face, Suguru’s touch quiet, reverent, as he traced along the edges of Satoru’s features, offering as much comfort and tenderness as he could whilst the other’s chronic migraines felt him vulnerable and aching.

A fond memory, that was.  When they had let each other in … when they allowed themselves a moment of vulnerability, of trust in the other to keep them warm, and safe.

Hope had begun to nestle itself within the sinewy muscles of Suguru’s chest. Tendrils of longing and anticipation and despair and want, so much want it made Suguru feel crazy, wrapped tightly around his ribcage —- around his very heart, and squeezed.  While Satoru wasn’t there in a physical sense to wipe away Suguru’s tears and offer comfort while his defenses were down, Suguru could still feel him, all the same.  And there was comfort in knowing that the six eyes were still present —- ever-watchful of his movements, as always.

Suguru had always felt stripped bare underneath Satoru’s gaze.  It was as though Satoru saw the very fibers of his being —- his wants and desires, his fears … the night terrors that kept him away from Jujutsu Tech; from a world that terrified him —- that drove him utterly mad, in the end.  Satoru had always seen the very heart and soul of Geto Suguru, hadn’t he?  All that made him who he was, who he had been … and yet Suguru had knocked on death’s door with the preconceived notion that Satoru hated him for who he had become.  That there was only room in his best friend’s heart for disgust over what Suguru had done to that village —- to his own parents.  Much less everything else that had transpired over those ten long years.

What an idiot he had been.

From the two quick pulses of the prison realm in his hands, Suguru could surmise that Satoru also didn’t have a clue about what this cursed object truly was.  It was disappointing, knowing that somehow, such a special-grade weapon had made it past the both of them.  Suguru didn’t have access to the library at Jujutsu Tech anymore, much less Kenjaku’s vast knowledge and understanding of the world at large.  He couldn’t feel him, at least … though the fear that he could come back whenever he so desired was enough to make Suguru reluctant to get any sort of rest.

He found himself wondering what he could possibly ask next that could be answered in a mere yes or no.  Suguru’s grip on the object tightened as he began to overthink it all, caught up on each and every possibility.  It was as if Satoru had picked up on his hesitance, though —- even from some other dimension or plane of existence, Satoru saw him; knew him all too well —- for the object began to sputter and shake, vibrations succinct, punctuated by brief pauses, as if he was somehow speaking through the cursed object.

Suguru’s brows knitted together in confusion and surprise as he attempted to make sense of it. It almost felt like…

…some sort of code, maybe?

❝ Satoru, what— ❞

Suguru’s train of thought was cut off as he realized that the series of initial vibrations were becoming repetitive.  Was Satoru attempting to speak to him in…

❝ ---Morse code? Fuck, you’re brilliant, ❞  he couldn’t help but let out an exasperated laugh as the realization hit.  Suguru wasn’t well versed in morse code, but he was familiar enough to make the connection. He quickly began searching for some way to decipher the messages on the phone Larue had provided him with.

❝ Try again, ‘toru, ❞  Suguru encouraged, ready to record the other’s message so he could determine what the other was saying.

When he finally figured it out, Suguru’s gaze softened … as if Satoru was looking at him, somehow.  He was always looking at him, wasn’t he?  Cutting through his defenses … it felt like his heart was in his throat as he attempted to swallow around it, emotions getting the better of him. 

❝ …You’re trapped in some other dimension because of me, and you’re worried about my safety? ❞  His voice was as tender as it was quiet, a hushed sound that pulled at the empty spaces between them. ❝ I’m okay … I’m safe. I’m more worried about what you might be going through in there … or wherever you are. ❞

When that last word came through, Suguru closed his eyes.

❝ I … I don’t know. It’s frustrating how much I don’t know.  I think he’s gone, but I don’t trust that it’s over.  That he won’t come back at some inopportune time. He knows everything about me, though —- he somehow had access to my cursed technique, my memories … but I can’t recall anything that’s happened since he took over.  I wish I could, because maybe then I’d know how to free you. ❞

Silence hung heavy, punctuating the weight of the moment between them from worlds divided. Suguru took a moment to think —- to breathe through the onslaught of emotions coursing through him.  Everything felt so blinding and foreign, as if he were looking through eyes that weren’t his; not anymore. A disconnect between tendons and bones, an inability to walk —- to move.  Everything felt so wrong, so painfully wrong—-

Suguru swallowed roughly, before continuing.

❝ —-I reached out to Shoko, but the soonest she can meet is tomorrow night.  Or … later tonight? It’s been about … six hours or so since you got locked in there, but the devastation is pretty horrific.  I’d imagine she’s got a lot to handle right now. ❞

❝ Satoru… are you safe, where you are? Are you okay? ❞

𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓, 𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍, 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐓 -- the pain didn't bother him as much anymore, a mild discomfort prevailing past the mental wall he raised, a meditative focus slotting itself akin to a shield. He needed to be patient; his rescue was entirely up to everyone else now, he couldn't use an ounce of Cursed Energy whilst trapped -- that was non-negotiable, he had already exhausted efforts to see if he could overpower whatever was repressing his techniques... but no dice.

Six Eyes seemed to be the only working ability he had in his arsenal, and he couldn't even see his surroundings within the abyss, couldn't even make out any details on the corpses clawing at him -- he could only see beyond, when he focused to a strenuous extent, like now.

The familiarity that struck him through the haze surrounding Suguru's tear-stained cheeks made him want to cry, too. He was back at that house he got so many years ago for their private meetings, the little home he had once daydreamed about hiding away within whenever the world got to be too much, but he never did fully pull away ---- never could detach himself from the Jujutsu world that placed him on that pedestal. Maybe Suguru resented him for that, or maybe Suguru fell out of love with him over those trickling visits that lessened in frequency.

Safe to say that Satoru automatically blamed himself for not being enough ---- but they never discussed it, not really, and by the time Suguru showed up with that sinister smile so unlike the one Satoru once cherished so much, declaring war, goading his students with insults and malice... yeah, it'd been too late for discussions by then.

Seeing Suguru cry, break down -- oh, it hurt his heart worse than whatever was shredding into him at the moment. Hurt to know that he couldn't reach out to him and comfort him during one of the very few times he actively showcased his need for comfort, as desperate as Satoru had been to make Suguru laugh and to make him feel safe and wanted and loved ---- it hadn't been enough, and now with the chance to give him all of that again? He was trapped in this fucking box.

But enough wallowing. He needed to fortify himself, to stop reeling in the hurt -- he needed to be strong, even whilst heartbroken relief flooded into his system with Suguru's tearful promise. Suguru, his Suguru, back from the dead, back for him, telling him to hold on ---- oh, he'd move mountains if Suguru asked him to, even now, he'd find a way to do it.

"-- can you make this thing shake once for ‘yes’, and twice for ‘no’ --"

Alright, he could do that. A quick pulse of his focus, the eyes of the Prison Realm shaking alongside the structure itself -- one. Just to confirm he could, in fact, answer properly. 'Yes.'

Their first contact.

Now for the first official yes-no question ---- ...ah, the Prison Realm wasn't something he knew much about, but he had read about it whilst researching other Cursed Objects akin to the Inverted Spear of Heaven. Some years ago, though, so suffice to say he had little knowledge on it aside from the fact that he could surmise, from his experience thus far, that it was not killing him -- it was merely containing him, churning through him to keep him from breaking free, keeping him suspended in a state of dying as some sick form of punishment ---- purgatory-esque, unrelenting till the end of time.

There was no sense of time in here, but from his connection to Suguru he could guess that he wasn't trapped within this realm for longer than a few days, if anything. And that fucked with him, honestly, because his perception felt stretched long across multiple months by now, a solid sensation of timeloss manipulating his concept of anything.

He forced through a pulse to answer Suguru's query with a reluctant, one -- two. An unfortunate 'no.' Blood splattered and his focus wavered half a second's worth before he returned to the hazy surroundings that fit around Suguru's head akin to a halo.

This wasn't enough. Consider him impatient -- and with a plethora of knowledge at his fingertips, Satoru proceeded to force out several more pulses ---- Morse code.

.- .-. . / -.-- --- ..- / --- -.- .- -.-- ..--.. ?

'Are you okay?'

Are you safe? He repeated the series of vibrations again, in case Suguru wasn't paying close attention -- or in case the Morse code wasn't something he immediately thought of when feeling the timed pulses of the Prison Realm within his hand.

Then, with less energy in his throbbing eyes to push forth, Satoru specified what he couldn't quite word -- avoiding elaborate sentence structures and words he couldn't think of at the moment. To be easier on himself -- and Suguru, if he happened to be a rookie. Who knew.

.... . .- -.. ..--..

'head.'

Is he in your head still? Do you feel him? Satoru infodumped plenty about history and literature to Suguru when they were younger teens, and Morse code took off during World War II... so he was sure he had shared some of that knowledge, albeit it'd be rusty by now if Suguru retained it. Satoru hoped he could decipher his message -- and if not, maybe Suguru could look up a guide and ask for him to repeat. He'd do so without a problem -- he had all day, after all, for Suguru to take his time and figure this out.

[svgurugeto]

[svgurugeto]

𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐍'𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐄𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐏. It was late afternoon by the time they had left Fukudaya, the sun kissing the horizon as they walked —- and yet the day felt like it had only just begun. Suguru's grip on Satoru's fingers tightened, in a reassuring sort of way —- a reminder of the moment they shared, of how real it had been, lingering between them as Suguru tugged him along. Satoru eventually found his footing and walked side-by-side with his best friend ... though perhaps that label didn't quite fit their relationship anymore.

Their friendship had always felt easy to Suguru, much like breathing. That first stretch upon waking up, a slow and steady intake of air as consciousness stirred. Satoru was the exhaled laughter, after holding one's breath, unknowingly —- that moment of relief, of letting go. Being in his presence was ... freeing. Grounding, in a sense, for the young sorcerer.

Satoru was his best friend, yes ... but he was also so much more than that. It almost felt silly, attempting to put a label on what they were to each other. Suguru felt that invisible red string, binding them to one another beyond any real understanding of how it had gotten there, or what it all meant. They made each other better ... —- stronger.

Life finally felt bearable, when in the presence of the other.

Suguru cast a quick glance at the boy beside him, tossing an easy smile his way before opening the door of the tea house. He felt Satoru slacken his hold on Suguru's fingers, though he was having none of it —- Suguru's grip only tightened, not wanting to be parted from him just yet. And while Satoru was eager to avoid the cashier's curious gaze, Suguru found himself welcoming it —- a flare of possessiveness; a way of saying that Satoru was his, without ever needing to actually speak it into existence.

The menu was a quick study; Suguru fell into step with Satoru, ordering a familiar flavor ( oolong tea with a hint of peach ) and skipping out on most of the sugary inclusions. Suguru didn't have a sweet tooth like Satoru, and typically avoided the confectionary items in Satoru's diet —- though it was always amusing to watch Satoru eat his fill of them.

When their drinks were finally ready, Suguru unwrapped his straw with his free hand, and then brought their joined hands up towards the counter. He only moved his thumb and index finger away from Satoru's, in favor of holding his drink down whilst he stabbed through the thin plastic lid with his straw. He couldn't help but chuckle as he then brought the drink up to his lips, pulling that first sip up through the straw and into his mouth.

Clearly Satoru was enjoying his choice of bubble tea, his smile a dead giveaway, along with his adorable little hum of approval as he took another gulp. Fuck, he was so cute —- Suguru couldn't take his eyes off of him, even as Satoru pushed his way through the door and led them back towards the main intersection of Shibuya.

Suguru took that sip, so eagerly offered to him —- held the milky brown sugar concoction in his mouth before swallowing, his teeth toying with one of the tapioca pearls left behind. ❝ Mmm, it's good, ❞ he replied with a nod, before going back to his own drink. He knew better than to offer Satoru a sip of his unsweetened beverage, though he would certainly entertain the other's desires if he felt so inclined to try it.

At the mention of extending their time together once they returned to Jujutsu Tech, Suguru couldn't help but smile. Fuck, would he ever stop smiling?? His face was starting to hurt from the constant stretch. Suguru was so far from being tired that it would be a miracle if he slept at all tonight. ❝ All of that sounds good to me, ❞ he replied, before slightly adjusting his backpack.

❝ —-I'd be happy doing anything if it was with you, really. ❞

𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐃𝐈𝐃𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐄𝐍𝐃, 𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 -- 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐄. His emboldened 'who gives a shit' attitude could very well have reared its ugly head into this moment, spoiling the tenderness with an obnoxious inability to let go ---- but Suguru handled him so softly, so gently, that he forgot all that hard-headed nonsense the moment they locked eyes again. He blinked once, twice, hazy, alight with such a potent realization that he could barely breathe.

Suddenly, the question Suguru asked earlier had dozens, hundreds, millions of answers; what did you imagine being if you never became a Sorcerer? Oh, anything if it's with you -- anything that involved Suguru, too. Maybe he'd be a librarian or go into something that involved sciences, maybe he'd try out archery and enter those big tournaments, or he could be a pilot, a racecar driver, an astronaut, a teacher ---- anything and everything if it meant Suguru was somewhere in the picture with him.

They kissed again, shorter this time -- a light brush of Suguru's lips to his own and Satoru was shameless in leaning forward subtly to chase after him when he pulled back. After what felt like a millennia... Satoru finally took in one breath a little quick, sucking it in when Suguru reached up to nudge his sunglasses back from slipping off his nose. He couldn't help it, Suguru saying that little promise so casually had his heart doing a bit of a pinball impression around his insides.

With the grace of a newborn deer he stumbled alongside Suguru at the snatching of his hand, wobbly legs still caught somewhere behind them in that alleyway with the rest of him ---- but that's right, they were supposed to be grabbing boba right now, and even in his kissed-stupid state he was lucid enough, or perhaps still motivated enough by the promise of a sweet treat, that he eventually got his shit together to walk a little less like he was drunk. He steadied out his pacing to level himself at Suguru's side after a bit of a lag on his part causing Suguru to essentially drag him along those first few awkward paces as Satoru's brain stumbled to catch up. He was good now, he was peachy keen.

❝ -- right, um, it's the Alpaca T-- yeah, that way, you got it. ❞ He coughed to clear his throat, to snap himself out of it. Suguru's hand was so warm. He remembered his mother's assistant curling her index and middle finger for him to hold his whole hand onto, walking through the snow in Kyoto, and she hadn't been warm despite her smiles and gestures ---- the insistence of referring to him as Gojo-sama whilst he still needed help not slipping on the icy path hadn't felt very warm. The absence of his mother hadn't helped, sending him off with glorified babysitters who didn't know how to handle him without either coddling him too much or treating him like he wasn't quite human. Come to think of it, the memory was well-suited for this moment; that was the last time he held someone's hand.

Satoru didn't pull away, squeezing lightly, curling his fingers to lock between Suguru's own -- hesitant, but not out of shyness. He was curious, he was exploratory. He wasn't sure if Suguru wanted to drop his hand as they entered the boba shop, so he preemptively slackened his hold a breath's worth in case Suguru decided he preferred to let go -- or if he needed both hands. Unclear.

He ordered his drink whilst trying to hide the flush from his face, looking off toward the menu to avoid eye contact with the cashier with a racing heart because -- well, Suguru hadn't let go after all. And now, for the first time in a long time despite being so accustomed to it, seeing a stranger's eyes on him felt invasive. Not enough to upset him, but definitely enough for him to fluster ---- the way he could see how she darted a look at them both and, fuck, looked amused or something? He didn't look long enough to figure that emotion out, quick to read the entirety of the menu with a few averted glances its way, counting the 23 different versions of a cartoon alpaca mascot plastered throughout the cute little shop.

Satoru ended up going for the brown sugar -- the oreo-inspired one looked good too, but he forgot how to talk and forgot that the option existed when he ordered, so that was that.

Their drinks came out relatively fast, and he tapped the end of the wrapped straw against the counter to break the sharpened slanted edge of it out, then stabbed it a little enthusiastically into his drink's colorful film lid. Their hands remained locked together ---- and if Suguru pulled away to tend to his own drink with two hands, then Satoru was ready to snatch the straw away and do it for him one-handed as a flex. They were stuck together now. No escape.

He leaned his side against the door to push it open for himself and Suguru, lifting his boba up to take that first tentative sip. The immediate smile and bigger gulp right after was Satoru's stamp of approval, but he went ahead and verbalized it too to be thorough.

❝ -- ohhh, this is good, so fresh -- we have to come back here. Here, try ---- ❞ out went his boba toward Suguru, poised so that the other could steal a sip -- things that felt natural even before they shared saliva via a kiss; this. But now he couldn't help but crinkle his nose with a bigger smile, like some puzzle piece slotting into place -- truthfully, they had always been intimate like that, hadn't they? They finally just... made it official.

Satoru's heart felt full. He was on top of the world.

❝ We'll catch a train home and, I don't know, I'm pretty wired -- I could watch a movie, or we could play some games and -- ❞ -- and kiss some more, yeah?

[svgurugeto]

Is that a gift or a curse?

[svgurugeto]

[svgurugeto]

getting back into the swing of things here! i'll be working on my drafts and posting a starter call sometime this week once i'm more or less caught up. i'll also be updating graphics and such ( kinda just some spring cleaning / dusting everything off )

also want to mention that i'm going to be making ❝ 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟔 ; stomach it  ⁄  choking up old sins. ❞ my main verse on this blog --- this is the verse where suguru overpowers kenjaku and reclaims his body, just in time for satoru to get sealed inside of the prison realm. we have an existing thread in this verse which will be expanded upon ( and eventually turned into a multi-chapter fic ) but i'd love to get more threads in this verse going as well!

i love it for my main verse because a. it doesn't nullify his prior wrongdoings and stays as true to canon as possible ( while obviously still being canon divergent ) and b. adds for some spicy af interactions with other characters within the JJK universe uwu

ANYWAY tl;dr i am Back and eager to hit the ground running! this is still a single-ship blog and gego will be the only ship i write, but i would LOVE to develop and explore platonic bonds and relationships with other characters and establish some other lovely dynamics here! if you don't ship these two boys, that's a-okay --- just know that this ship consumes my mind 24/7 and will be an ever-constant theme here so please don't feel like you have to follow / follow me back lol

[svgurugeto]

Aftercare

A little something inspired by my brainrotting with @curbstompthestars ♥️

[svgurugeto]

[svgurugeto]

Marya Hornbacher, Waiting

[svgurugeto]

Cursed..

[svgurugeto]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍. The Geto Suguru depicted post-Hidden Inventory / after the failed Star Plasma Vessel mission has undiagnosed Bipolar Disorder ( formerly known as Manic-Depressive Illness, or Manic Depression. ) Environmental factors play an important role in the development of bipolar disorder alongside genetic predisposition --- the main contributing factor, in this case, being the trauma he sustained at the very end of that mission.

Suguru's cursed technique also leaves him susceptible to the worst of humanity, as he quite literally consumes strong amounts of negative energy to be able to draw upon the strength of a curse in battle. Suguru has always hated what the rest of the Jujutsu world considered to be his strength, or his strongest asset ---- and has thus gone out of his way to learn martial arts so that he never has to rely solely on his technique.

It's important to note that the amount of curses Suguru takes in once he has defected from Jujutsu Tech strongly contributes to his declining mental health.

He has suffered from extreme bouts of mania ( as depicted in Jujutsu Kaisen 0 ) as well as massive depressive episodes that have, on occasion, pushed him towards suicidal ideation. Both extremes have been noted by the curse users in Suguru's cult that he considers to be his 'family' ----- however, they chose to celebrate his mania-induced decisions and propped him up as a revolutionary and leader instead of recognizing Suguru's inner turmoil and pain for what it truly was.

[svgurugeto]

I'm fixing it before Gege decides to 👍🏼

....

Please do not repost!

Thanks!!

[svgurugeto]

big feelings

[svgurugeto]

Gregory Orr, from The Last Love Poem I Will Ever Write; Poems; "Song of Aftermath,"

[svgurugeto]

Let me photograph you in this light