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weepingpines.bsky.social
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@weepingpines.bsky.social
38 followers 89 following 150 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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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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oleyxis.bsky.social
‘Jaws’

*insert jaws theme*

What if you got caught off guard by a special grade and were saved by that guy you broke up with? He’s totally not stalking you (you’re stalking each other)

#satosugu #stsg #gojo #geto #jjk
*And so begins the secret meetings
This took years off my life Thankyou
July 2, 2025 at 11:20 AM
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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
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uotuok.bsky.social
I'll hold you when things go wrong
I'll be with you from dusk till dawn
#satosugu
Bc they both deserve head scratches. Thx bye.
September 6, 2025 at 8:44 PM
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myimaginarybrklyn.bsky.social
Clémentine Dondey, 1847. “Devineresse Étudiant un Livre de Nécromancie, ou Tireuse de Cartes (Fortune Teller Studying a Book of Necromancy, or Card Reader)”

#painting #1840s #cats #ClémentineDondey
September 7, 2025 at 1:14 PM
weepingpines.bsky.social
the bells 🙌
Washington, DC residents are flooding the streets in protest of Donald Trump.
TikTok video by COURIER
www.tiktok.com
September 6, 2025 at 10:41 PM
weepingpines.bsky.social
whoever hears this melody

• #satosugu #jjk
• rated M, multi-chapter
• what if we bend before we break?
• canon divergence

🔗 archiveofourown.org/works/703551...
archiveofourown.org
September 5, 2025 at 5:20 PM
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hermittycrab.bsky.social
mission segment! some random curse user should be easy work for two special grades, right?

#wipwednesday #stsg
“What if,” Satoru proposes, “we make some window do this after all? I’m melting. I’m gonna turn into sludge and fry like a pancake.” Suguru scoffs with zero sympathy. Satoru gets to sprawl on his back in the shade by the roof access, using his and Suguru’s jackets as a thin protective layer between him and the hot concrete. Satoru only needs to swivel his head a little to keep an eye on the entire school. Suguru, meanwhile, has to pace, periodically peeking out of their veil. They’ve put it up at the centre of the roof so that it wouldn’t be visible from the school grounds. Suguru undoes another button on his shirt. “You’d think Limitless would protect you from radiation.” “Right? Wouldn’t that be so fucking cool?” “You don’t need to be any more cool.” Suguru hears the words he’s just said, and decides he might be experiencing heatstroke. “I mean, uh, you’re already cooling down in the shade while I’m out here dying.” “Suuure. That’s totally what you meant.” Suguru’s face feels unbearably hot. He needs to shut up if he doesn’t want to hardboil his brain. Shoko calls sometime around lunch to inform Suguru that Yaga is threatening to expel him and Satoru. They have a good, hearty laugh about it. Mostly, Suguru’s glad that Shoko’s ready to move past yesterday’s events. “Tell the other idiot to give me back my lipstick,” she says. “I thought we agreed it looked off on you?” “So? I still want it back.” Suguru would bet money that she wouldn’t want it anywhere near her if she knew what it had been used for. He’ll have to buy her a new one anyway. There isn’t much left of the original lipstick. Not long past noon, defeated by the merciless sun, Suguru huddles in the scant shade, jostling Satoru out of his spot. Instead of grumbling or starting a tussle like Suguru expects, Satoru sighs, adjusts the slope of his shoulder, and pulls Suguru’s head down to rest on it. “You can relax. I’m keeping watch.” Satoru tugs Suguru’s hairband free and massages his scalp with gentle fingertips. “You’re kinda useless here, Suguru.” “Fuck you,” Suguru mutters, but the words are muffled, already slurring with sleep. It’s so easy to let go of his usual vigilance when it’s Satoru taking charge of the situation. “If you miss ‘em, ‘m gonna laugh for a week.” He drifts for a bit, highly aware of the scalding air and Satoru’s sweat-damp shirt. The bastard smells good even now, after baking on a dirty rooftop for half a day. Or maybe the wires in Suguru’s brain have melted, and he just can’t tell the difference between gross and deeply, deeply comforting. When Suguru wakes up, he’s sticky with sweat, dehydrated, and alone. The sun has journeyed quite far across the sky. Suguru checks the time--4:13--and notices unread texts from Satoru. 15:21 Brb getting soda In case sleeping beauty wakes up without me & panics (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ Nothing else since then. Suguru frowns at the thought that Satoru has likely dealt with the curse user already, and left Suguru to nap. The veil is still up, though. A quick loop near the edge of the roof confirms nothing. No visible sorcerers or windows in the area, at least none that Suguru would know at a glance. Maybe Satoru caught a lead during his soda run, and decided to investigate. If so, it’s odd that he hasn’t called.
September 3, 2025 at 4:27 PM
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marlovingian.bsky.social
Me still figuring out how to use bsky and just failing/neglecting social media in general, though I think the like 2(?) people who follow me already know about this one...

Please enjoy my beauty & the beast sugusato fic, with monsterfucking.

#gego #sugusato

archiveofourown.org/works/667446...
September 3, 2025 at 2:47 PM
weepingpines.bsky.social
don’t mind me and my battery of old-women OCs #wipwednesday #jjk #satosugu
Suguru sighed. "Cursed energy. That's what you’re seeing, when you look at me. And especially—" he gestured at Satoru, who was happily poking at one of the ginkgo trees, "—when you look at him. It's a bastardized form of spiritual energy. One that’s made up of all the negative emotions of humanity." Obaasan hummed, her expression veiled behind a cloud of smoke. "And all that cursed energy congeals into—" "—cursed spirits, yes. Which sorcerers exorcise." They fell into silence. Suguru twirled his unlit cigarette between his fingers, and the old bat puffed and puffed on her pipe. At the sudden sound of Satoru’s bright laughter, they looked over in unison and watched his feet disappear as he swung himself up into the foliage. A single leaf drifted down in his wake. It landed in the sake left out among the roots. Obaasan blew out a cloud of smoke. "I find that arrogant." Suguru squinted at her, but said nothing. She had a flair for the dramatic that suited her shitty personality in the worst sort of way, and he knew it was futile to try and interrupt her carefully-placed pause for effect. Sure enough: "Spirits are the progeny of the gods," she went on. "Of the old ones. And yet humans claim responsibility for such acts of creation? Please. You’ve always had a big head, little viper, but you’ve never been stupid." "Non-sorcerers are responsible,” Suguru snapped. “Jujutsu society has endured for thousands of years. You think they haven't determined the exact source of their only reason for existence?" “Bah.” Obaasan clacked her teeth around the end of her pipe. “Well, what’s the counterpart?” “What do you mean?” “You say cursed energy comes from negativity. So, what manifests when the spiritual energy comes from positive emotions? From joy, and curiosity? From wonder?” She looked at him over the tops of her bifocals. “From love?” Suguru thought about it. "Nothing," he said. "It doesn't create anything." She waved a gnarled hand. "It must. With the spirits there is always a balance." "Sorcerers keep the balance.” The old bat laughed her smoke-addled laugh. "And where do sorcerers come from, I wonder?"
September 3, 2025 at 12:37 PM
weepingpines.bsky.social
their postures are soooooo accurate. kudos to whoever did the cover art
stsgbigbang2025.bsky.social Tale as Old as Time | GoGe Big Bang @stsgbigbang2025.bsky.social · Aug 28
Sign ups for Tale as Old as Time are now OPEN 🎺

Artists and writers, fill out the form to join our fairytale themed #GoGe Big Bang now, or find out more about the project in the thread below 📜 Sign ups will remain open until September 27! #SatoSugu #五夏

Sign up 👉 forms.gle/Z31KjiQT7HVq...
A graphic which reads "Sign ups now open!" in cursive text. Below the text, digital art depicts Gojo Satoru sitting at a desk and typing at his laptop, with thrown out ideas from his notebook strewn around him. Behind him, Geto Suguru looks up at his painting of a king (suspiciously reminiscent of Gojo) rendered in blue. He's covered in paint, with abandoned canvases visible in the background.
August 28, 2025 at 6:45 PM
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fushiglow.bsky.social
Here's some pure self indulgence for #wipwednesday ✈️

This is taken from chapter 4 of summer fic which is coming after chapter 2 of Take It from the Top. I really love this snippet so, if you're interested, infodump about swifts and why I chose them for this scene in the replies #jjk #satosugu
Overhead, the swifts scream their farewells to a season that’s gone on too long. They’re heading south, over the ocean in search of warmer shores, chasing endless summer. Looking up at the boomerang of their bodies, silhouetted against the dusky sky as they begin their journey home, Suguru wonders what they sense that he doesn’t. There is comfort in cycles, he supposes. There is comfort in knowing that some things are bigger than him, that some things are beyond the realm of his mortal comprehension. That some things are simply beyond his control. Limitless boy. Impossible to contain. Impossible to deny. 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.
August 27, 2025 at 5:02 PM