weepingpines

the little line between the eyebrows communicates so much 😭😭

hmm depends on the circumstances that got him wet 😇

(clears throat) ME-OW

the dimple! he got exactly what he wanted. also love how open-ended this is—that we get to fill in the backstory for every bruise

the slight blur on suguru’s toes to make it look like he’s in motion??? okay pack it up

They'd be the most insufferable nerd4nerd couple and I love that for them #satosugu #goge #satosugufanart

that second picture is genuinely one of the best things I have ever seen in this fandom. actually cannot put into words how much I love it. how you managed to fit an entire story into something so simple??? mind blowing. my heart is close to imploding

🔥🔥🔥 please get angry more often

chapter 2, now posted!

archiveofourown.org/works/703551...

gahh the duality of gentleness and viciousness. it’s so them. cannot wait.

the burst capillaries?? the nose bleed, hello??? you’ve NAILED the dissociation, wow

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.’

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

Ooooh Suguru seeking absolution and believing Satoru has the power to grant it is so yum. Also? The chorus crying its mournful lament? Stunning. Tragic. Are we awaiting a fall? Can’t wait to read! And good job with the u-bend and pump filter etc etc

legally we should be able to bill for work-related dreams

thank you! I fear it is all gone 😅

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

the dream

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.”

hashtag geto suguru needs a hug #wipwednesday

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.

oooooooh I’m so weak for a clingy Suguru, for silly-socked Satoru. love love love, thank you for sharing

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

Washington, DC residents are flooding the streets in protest of Donald Trump. TikTok video by COURIER

the bells 🙌

❤️❤️ you’re making me look at that impish fuckin clock in a much more generous light, how dare you

whoever hears this melody

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

🔗 archiveofourown.org/works/703551...

the knobby knees :((( they’re all so young. this is so beautifully done. and the see no/speak no/hear no at the top!!! brilliant

idk, two fics when I was expecting only one kinda feels like good news and great news

“His teeth glint, sharp as a kaiju’s.” PURRRR. During their confrontation in last week’s episode, this fic was all I could think about. V excited!

Satoru deffo didn’t leave Suguru to pacing just to see him unbutton his shirt... The heat is so visceral, here! Add the nap for disorientation and I am JUST as unsettled at Satoru’s sudden absence 😬

“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.

mission segment! some random curse user should be easy work for two special grades, right?

#wipwednesday #stsg

he’d better get used to it! Obaasan constantly holds a mirror up to him