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weepingpines.bsky.social
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@weepingpines.bsky.social
43 followers 95 following 180 posts
🔞 | jjk and passing fancies | she/her

tell me about your music and your recipes and your favorite historical facts

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeepingPines/profile
tumblr: https://damn-that-shit-was-dope.tumblr.com/
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magmawrites.bsky.social
🧟Dead Air🎙️📻

Satoru held the radio closer. “How much do you miss me?” He asked, dropping his voice softer and lower. 

“…” 

“Because I miss you so much it’s kind of pathetic."

🤍Words: 74k
🖤Chp 10/?
🤍Zombie AU, omegaverse
🖤Rated: E

🔗 ao3.org/works/66141730/chapters/204300256

五夏 | satosugu
January 19, 2026 at 9:11 PM
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oddarette.bsky.social
Oooo ahhh. It’s a porcelain snail. I wonder if she’s carrying tea in her shell.
January 13, 2026 at 5:58 PM
weepingpines.bsky.social
just saw this rider in a skijor video and now I want geto on the horse and gojo on the skis
January 11, 2026 at 4:16 AM
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uotuok.bsky.social
still struggling with white hair AND short hair so studies for a precious man
#gojosatoru
January 10, 2026 at 4:58 PM
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fushiglow.bsky.social
A Good Daddy | greaterglow on ao3 👶

Satoru isn't anyone's daddy, but for one person only, he's willing to give it a try.

· #jjk #satosugu
· 8.3k words, oneshot, rated E
· let's enjoy filthy fucking + "family feels" with dada
· for @bearhavior.bsky.social ♥

read: archiveofourown.org/works/76321171
His brain conjured up a million futures he hadn’t realised he was allowed to consider before that very moment, when they’d already long since become impossibilities. There was only one person Satoru would ever want to build a family with in a world where it was an option for him. ‘Kids are for people who plan to grow old one day,’ he said quietly. ‘But if you’d told me that was—’ In an utterly bizarre turn of events, his eyes started to sting as some strange grief started clawing its way up his throat. ‘If you’d told me that you wanted to…’ He trailed off, reluctant to follow a train of thought that would forever lead to a dead end. Pointless, grieving something that could never come to pass. Not in this life. Not in these bodies. ‘Indulge me now, then,’ Suguru whispered. — Satoru isn't anyone's daddy, but for one person only, he's willing to give it a try. From the summary of A Good Daddy by greaterglow on AO3.
December 24, 2025 at 11:15 AM
weepingpines.bsky.social
here’s a weird little sci-fi oneshot for yah

The Sentinel | #jjk #satosugu

- 7.6k words
- Suguru leads a heist
- Satoru powers a city
- WeepingPines learns how to avoid a tangent

archiveofourown.org/works/762189...
December 24, 2025 at 5:59 PM
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marlovingian.bsky.social
Realized I hadn't blogged about this since I finished it, so here it is, my angsty, smutty masterpiece. #gego #夏五
archiveofourown.org/works/66744676
December 24, 2025 at 1:45 AM
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rrealgreen.bsky.social
五夏
December 22, 2025 at 10:06 AM
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uotuok.bsky.social
Sorry, i got lost in my head 🚑 IT S FUCKING WILD IN THERE ?! I do not recommend...
ANYWAYYYYYY
archive.transformativeworks.org/works/533672...
A classic in my book.
#satosugu
December 7, 2025 at 6:26 PM
weepingpines.bsky.social
last #WIP for Whoever Hears before I move that fic to the back burner to focus on some other projects. it'll be a while before I get back to it, so here's a full scene:

#stsg #jjk #satosugu
What follows is a complete scene from Whoever Hears This Melody, walking through a bit of backstory to set the scene for Suguru's current mindset: Suguru had been a painfully honest child, and so for obvious reasons he’d also been a very lonely one. He’d unsettled people. No one liked the kid in the corner, warning earnestly of monsters and staring too long at shadows. He’d unsettled people, but he hadn’t known, and so he hadn’t realized that when people thought of monsters they very often thought of him. They’d stayed well away. Friendships never formed, and neighbors never lingered, but that hadn’t been so bad. Suguru had been too little to understand that he was being shunned, and he’d not realized it was strange for a child to be so often all alone. Suguru was good at being alone. He’d been an imaginative kid, curious and prone to daydreams, and there hadn’t been cause to learn the words for loneliness when he’d been so busy running about, barefoot and starry-eyed, clutching at snails and rocks and whatever else had caught his interest as he’d explored beneath the endless sky. Nor had there been cause to concern himself with the dark looks and jagged words that dogged him—for all their gentleness, his parents had been fierce when it came to defending their boy. They’d been wonderful playmates, his parents. They couldn’t see the things Suguru saw—couldn’t see the monsters in the rice paddies, or the creatures he’d scratch out in black crayon—but they loved him, and so they’d done the best they could for their strange, honest son. Suguru’s father had taught him not to fear those lurking creatures. He’d told him bedtime stories—marvelous, sweeping tales—about beasts and demons and the brave heroes who fought them, and in the morning they’d romp about and fight monsters of their very own. They’d wave sticks and shout wildly and splash about in the garden pond, laughing and laughing, and Suguru would know that he was safe. He was safe because his father was watching over him, and his father was strong. And his mother— His mother had always been on his side. Suguru had been five years old when first he’d exorcised a curse. It had been a mucky thing, pulled from the river, and Suguru had obeyed some animal instinct and swallowed it right down. He’d come home ashen. Trembling. It hadn’t felt at all like he’d thought it might, fighting a real monster. He hadn’t felt strong like his father, or brave like the heroes in the stories. He’d just felt small. His mother had found him curled up in the bathroom. He’d tried to tell her what had happened. Tried to show her. But when the curse appeared suddenly at his side, responding to his instinctive summons and surprising him into a fit of hiccupping tears, she hadn’t been able to see. She’d believed him anyway. She’d held him close as he shook, and she’d rubbed his back as he sicked up black water. She’d cleaned him up, after, and wiped away his tears. She’d kissed his forehead and called him sweet pea. Then she’d made him cocoa in his favorite purple mug, aglow with painted fireflies, and she’d told him he’d been brave, and that she was very proud. And she hadn’t let on that she’d been terrified. She hadn’t let on that she’d seen how the bathmat grew suddenly sodden, soaking up mud from nowhere. She hadn’t let on that she’d seen how it shifted beneath an invisible weight. She hadn’t let on that she’d believed Suguru then like she’d never been able to before, and that she’d been terrified out of her mind for her strange, honest son. She’d just tucked him into bed and sang about the stars. About bright, faraway things. And that had been enough. They had been enough. It could have been a happy childhood had things stayed just like that. But people feared what they did not understand, and people did not understand Suguru. Eventually exclusion hadn’t been sufficient for the quiet boy with the watchful eyes, and when Suguru was old enough to start grade school he began to realize that he was different, and that he was unwelcome. His classmates had been nasty, his teachers suspicious, his neighbors very cold—and Suguru, caught up among them, began to realize that he was the reason for the dark looks, the jagged words. He began to realize that he was hated. And so Suguru began to lie.
November 24, 2025 at 5:12 PM
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mksp.bsky.social
まんじゅう…
October 30, 2025 at 5:14 PM
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hermittycrab.bsky.social
today's prompt is biting and marking 👄

#stsg #夏五夏 #jjktober #kinktober #WIP
October 30, 2025 at 4:36 PM
weepingpines.bsky.social
🙈🫣
meirit.bsky.social Quisty @meirit.bsky.social · Oct 30
Saw it on that other app and decided to modify a bit.

So instead of the number of likes, comment with the number you want to hear the answer to!

(Fellow writers please share I want to ask you questions☺️)
October 30, 2025 at 2:51 PM
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torishio.bsky.social
October 30, 2025 at 2:01 PM
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mzzeph.bsky.social
last words of a shooting star

[ #SuguruGeto #夏油傑 ]
October 24, 2025 at 7:34 PM
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jana-aych-ess.bsky.social
being a writer is so embarrassing. like, "here's what my brain sounds like. hope exposure to this bullshit I soak in all the time changes your fucking life"
October 22, 2025 at 11:37 PM
weepingpines.bsky.social
I swear I’m making progress on my WIPs, and here’s a snippet from chapter 3 of Whoever Hears This Melody to prove it. In other news, I think I have a plot??

#wip #jjk #satosugu
Yaga briefs Satoru and Suguru on their joint mission. Conversation is swiftly derailed: “Do you even know how to buy train tickets?” “No, that’s what you’re for. Anyway, I can just teleport.” “You can’t even make it out of Tokyo.” “Can so.” Satoru stuck his nose in the air. “I managed Chiba in one jump, you know. Feel free to congratulate me whenever.” “Chiba is only fifty kilometers from here,” said Suguru, goading him even though that was actually very impressive, and he hadn’t known Satoru had managed something so far, and he expected lots of details once they were off on their own. He made a mental note to pick up a few celebratory packs of Digimon cards, too, or maybe some daifuku from that place with the fish tanks in the walls. “Yakushima is twenty times that distance. Not to mention you’re not traveling alone.” The look Satoru shot him was all glittering mischief and barely concealed pride. Suguru blinked at him. “No. Really? You cracked it?” “They all survived!” Satoru crowed, his smile blooming wide and triumphant. “And they were only like, a tiny bit smushed! I was gonna start practicing with mammals next, but Shoko’s being very possessive about her lab rats—” “What are you talking about?” Yaga said, cutting him off. “Are you talking about teleporting? With other living things?” He began to look mildly panicked. “What have you been practicing with?” Satoru grinned. “First years.” “He’s using beetles,” Suguru said, before Yaga went apoplectic. “Because the carapace survives even if the beetle doesn’t, and it helps him analyze what went wrong.” “And what went right,” Satoru said, nodding. They’d brainstormed the perfect test subjects over a ferociously competitive game of H-O-R-S-E, some weeks ago. “Survivorship bias, or whatever.”
October 17, 2025 at 6:15 PM
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hermittycrab.bsky.social
the very normal pastime of naked wrestling for today's nonsexual nudity prompt 😌

#stsg #jjktober #WIP
October 15, 2025 at 5:03 PM
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loouisink.bsky.social
They'd be the most insufferable nerd4nerd couple and I love that for them #satosugu #goge #satosugufanart
September 21, 2025 at 8:40 PM
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fushiglow.bsky.social
saturday was super unproductive and i'm very grumpy about it (i had to clean the washing machine pump filter and unclog the U-bend under the sink and mop up the mess 👍) but i made good progress on chapter 4 of summer fic today so have a snack #jjk #satosugu

p.s. promise this is still a fix it lmao
Satoru is bright and brilliant, licking at his sides, licking at his defences. The sky is aflame and Satoru is a flame and Suguru is but a moth. A dusty flutter on an updraft. A winged creature seeking warmth. It’s irresistible. Inevitable. In their culture, purification by way of water is common, but some put their faith in fire. Now, for the second time in his life, Suguru thinks about letting it all go up in flames. Not in a blaze of blue this time, but in a gentle red smoulder. The kind of fire that feeds new life, sweeping through the ground cover, clearing a path for greenery to grow through the gaps. Some believe that fire has cleansing properties. Some believe it has the power to destroy the last obstacles to enlightenment. And though his faith isn’t what it used to be, Suguru has always believed in this. He’s always believed in Satoru. Maybe that’s what compels him to speak the truth. Maybe that’s why the confession spills from his lips almost unbidden, like water. Like smoke. ‘Sometimes I think I still hate them.’ It sits heavy in the space between them. A damp log thrown into the hearth, smothering the flames with its weight. In the forest, the chorus cries its mournful lament. On his right, Satoru shifts where he stands. He settles into place, licking at Suguru’s sides, lapping away at his apprehension. ‘Okay.’ There’s no heat behind it. And Suguru doesn’t dare breathe lest he sap away the scarce oxygen feeding this gentle flame. He thinks of Satoru’s body curled around his mother’s. He thinks of soft laughter shared over the best zaru soba in the whole of Japan and, clenched into fists at his sides, his hands start to tremble. He didn’t expect judgement in blue, red, and purple, but he expected something explosive. Not this easy acceptance that almost resembles indifference. Maybe even absolution, if Suguru could summon the audacity to believe it. ‘Okay?’ he croaks over the call of the crickets. ‘Is that all you have to say?’ His eyes dart to the side in time to see Satoru shrug. He swallows around snatched breaths that come increasingly swift and shallow. ‘Then does that mean…’ As he trails off, too afraid to give voice to the words that would damn the both of them, Satoru turns to look at him, the intensity of his gaze utterly unforgiving. Even as he gasps for reprieve from its brilliant burn, Suguru can’t look away. No matter how much he feels like an ant caught in the path of a magnifying glass, no matter how much he feels like a moth flailing over an irresistible flame, Satoru holds him there. And Suguru holds his nerve. ‘Do you hate them?’ he ventures at last, voice barely more than a whisper. ‘Non-sorcerers, I mean?’ Satoru shakes his head, easy as breathing. And Suguru finds his own breathing comes a little easier in the wake of it. His own relief almost comes as a surprise. ‘Nah,’ Satoru says, scrunching his freckled nose a little. ‘Protecting the weak is exhausting, but I don’t hate them.’ He looks away, out towards the setting sun as his expression settles into something thoughtful. Caught in the low light, coloured in its glow, he looks all blush and beautiful. Petal pink when he says, ‘You don’t hate a rose because it has thorns, do you?’ After all this time, Suguru is still taken aback by the uncanny way Satoru can transform when the moment calls for it. Somewhere in the distant past, there’s poetry in his genes. He comes from a family of statesmen; he’s practically a politician himself. The sombre way he conducts himself when he isn’t trying to drag a smile out of someone shouldn’t catch Suguru off guard anymore. Still, the truth cuts deep. Even dressed up in rose petals, it’s sharp as it sinks into his flesh. Beyond the mountains, the sun drips blood red down the horizon. ‘If it kills you, you might.’
September 14, 2025 at 9:25 PM
weepingpines.bsky.social
the words aren’t flowing and that akaza backstory was brutal. coping with lots of baking and an hour straight of iris by the goo goo dolls
September 14, 2025 at 10:12 PM
weepingpines.bsky.social
hashtag geto suguru needs a hug #wipwednesday
Suguru is sitting on a bench outside a bakery, putting off swallowing a curse: There had been a pile of messages waiting for him when he’d finished exorcising the curse, and already his inbox was full again. A little smile tugged at his lips, reading through them—but he hesitated when he raised his thumbs to the keypad. He could be overly conscious of himself in stupid ways, and texting was among the worst of them. Seeing his own thoughts written out and immortalized made him far too critical of what he was saying, had him reading and re-reading, had him doubting his phrasing and wondering if Satoru would see too much—too much of his aching heart, too much of his murky belly. By the time he vetted a response well enough to press send, Satoru would already have sent another barrage of texts and left Suguru far behind. Much better to call. To hear Satoru’s bell-bright voice distorted through the phone in that way that made it deeper. To hear his exclamations and interested little um-hums as they chatted about everything and nothing. To hear the crackle of laughter and know that even from a distance, Suguru had made him smile. Satoru answered on the second ring. “Suguru!” he crowed, so loudly that Suguru could shut his eyes and pretend Satoru was sat right there beside him, could pretend the warmth of the bakery at his back came instead from an arm thrown about his shoulders. “Perfect timing.”
September 10, 2025 at 2:51 PM