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frasermints · 1 year

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idk what's going on and don't wanna talk about kalvin tbh. just writing in to say your tag about laughing being gender euphoric is literally on my pros list in considering going on t. i love how there are so many normal things cis people go through that are affirming and getting to finally experience that, what feels normal, is sooo amazing. love that for us, no matter what stage or ways we get to feel those gendery feelings. cool stuff <3

babes it's so fucking worth it. i was scared to start t, i had JUST come out to my mom the fortnight before and i literally had my first box of gel in my hands and i remember shaking in the kitchen thinking god. what the fuck am i doing. is this seriously worth it ???

i was housesitting for a friend's mom so i got some time away from her but i literally got to watch in real time as i started developing bottom growth in the first three days.

i remember sitting on the toilet one day a few months later and looking at my thighs going wait, when did i get leg hair that long and thick that high up ???

i remember my throat hurting like FUCK in the first stage of voice drop and thinking wow... teenage boys experience this... i am a Certified Teenage Boy™ at the ripe old age of [REDACTED]. better late than never.

i remember the first time i was gendered properly in public. yes, it was by someone that knew i was trans. but it still felt good.

i remember the first time i heard a child refer to me as "he" and "him". he didn't fuck up once. he still hasn't. neither has his sister. he is eight and she is five. she was four when she met me. it's literally not hard.

i remember the first time my mom referred to me as her child instead of her daughter. i remember saying thank you. i remember her telling me that she's sorry for calling me a mistake and that she's trying, and that it's going to take time, but that she's Going To Try Because She Loves Me.

i remember yelling at my cats to stop antagonizing each other and my voice reverberating against the walls so sharply bc it was deep. not loud, not squeaky, deep.

i remember looking at my face in the visor mirror on the way to work one day bc i had a pimple and going what the fuck, when did i develop jaw hair??? and turning my face and discovering an entire fucking beard i genuinely did not know i had. it was patchy as hell and still peach-fuzz consistency, and i shave because i'm not out at my primary job, but i literally... have a beard. that appeared out of nowhere.

having a penis, having hair, being addressed properly by adults and children, having a deep voice - these are things cis men experience on a regular basis. people don't typically fuck up and if they do they apologize and move on. but with trans men, these are little nuggets of joy that can make or break our days, our weeks, our months. and yeah, it's exciting to be able to share in the joy that is finally fitting into our bodies, but god damn i wish i didn't have to put in so much fucking work just to have these little slices of happiness.

also. nothing's going on with kg i just have a lot of trauma associated with him & bw and i can very distinctly hear their rhetoric in my head sometimes even 5-10 years later and it's helpful for me to verbalize against it. i'm sorry if i stirred discourse or anxiety that was not my intention but i recognize that may have been the repercussions of my actions

#i love testosterone #she's given me so much #i would not be where i am today without her #my leg hair and my single (1) two inch long chest hair are my favorite parts of myself post starting t #that and my dick... but that's a given i feel if you know me #but you do not‚ tumblr user dumbdomb #it's almost one in the morning #i have to pee. fuck.#my post #answered #dumbdomb #transmisandry #euphoria

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emberglowfox · 11 months

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birds of a feather

#totk #loz #link #tulin #totk spoilers #my comics #my art #it is almost 8 in the goddamn morning and my hand is cramping SO bad but if i didnt make this i was going to die #anyways link's signs: page 2 panel 1 he's signing “danger” and page 2 panel 4 he's signing “important/significant”#also idr where i got the “hair braiding is significant to the rito” probably from the reva/ink i used to read back in the day #(censored so it doesnt show up in the tags just in case lol)#theyre everything to me. if you couldn't tell #they have a brother dynamic 2 me but its open to interpretation #idk wtf happened tonight. two long comics from me back to back is absurd #broke this one up also so its more viewable too #sparks art

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on-wednesdays-we-eat-the-rich · 1 year

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My tutor is a knob.

For the sake of privacy and convenience, I will be referring to him as Mr Knobhead.

Here's the deal.

A while back, Mr Knobhead decided it would be fun to make our tutor group watch a video. Specifically, this video.

youtube

Watch it if you want, but if you don't want to I'll just sum it up quickly: it's a sort of comedy skit from the 80s or 90s about a boy called Kevin who is, of course, played by an adult man. It's Kevin's thirteenth birthday. As soon as he turns thirteen he basically becomes a caveman. He embodies every stereotype that has ever been pinned on teenagers: he's bad-tempered, he's rude to his parents, he won't do as he's told, you get the idea.

I have no idea why Mr Knobhead decided to show us this video. When we saw it we were like "sir what the fuck" and he tried to justify himself by saying "well you know some teenagers really do act like this, especially the ones I interact with". I wonder why.

The reason I'm so upset about this is because I didn't really think about it properly at the time. I was offended, sure, but I didn't realise quite how offended this silly little video would make me until I got older and witnessed more examples of Mr Knobhead having absolutely no respect for his students.

A couple of years ago he would regularly start debates during tutor, usually about the school uniform, which practically every student hates with a burning passion. The rules are quite strict. You have to tuck your shirt in, you have to wear your tie at all times, you have to wear black socks, your skirt can't be more than five centimetres above your knees, your trousers can't even vaguely resemble jeans, your shoes are basically limited to piss-catchers

or these.

If you wear jewellery it can only be one necklace, one bracelet, one ring and/or one pair of earrings; you can't have facial piercings, and your necklace has to be hidden under your shirt, which seems to defeat the point of necklaces but hey ho. If you wear a jumper you can't tuck it into your skirt or trousers, and you have to wear the blazer on top of it.

Basically, it's all very old-fashioned and controlling and pointless.

And these debates are pointless, because Mr Knobhead will dismiss anything the students say, even though he's the one who starts the arguments in the first place. Any time someone makes a valid point he'll either say: "well you're very young so you have a very strong sense of justice and it's expected of you to make bold statements like that" or: "I'm not in charge of this so I can't make any changes".

If I haven't made it clear already, this man is an absolute wanker.

There have been a couple of times in which I felt irritated enough to make a point. The first time, I criticised Mr Knobhead's claim that wearing an office job-type uniform "prepares us for the workplace", which is ridiculous because there are lots of jobs that require different uniforms, and if a student plans to be a doctor, or a builder, it wouldn't be very appropriate for them to come in wearing scrubs, or high-vis and a hard hat. And also, the sixth formers at my school don't wear a uniform. They're allowed to wear whatever they like, even though they are closer to entering the workplace than a great deal of the younger students.

I pointed this out to Mr Knobhead, and he didn't really have much of an argument for it. He kind of just said, "well yeah they don't have to wear a uniform because some people aren't going to need to wear a uniform for their job". Which literally contradicts his other argument.

The second time was about a year later (and we were still having the same old boring conversation). I mentioned to Mr Knobhead that I have sensory issues, and I have had to ask the school for permission to take my tie off, because it's a clip-on tie and in order to wear it I have to do up the top button of my shirt, which makes it really tight around my neck. This once caused me to have a meltdown, which is what prompted my parents to contact the school and ask them to make an exception for me. I said this to Mr Knobhead and his response was: "would you wear a tie if you had to do it for a job?"

No? I wouldn't? Not if I could help it?? The fact that I can't wear my tie for most of the time I'm in school should have answered his question. If there are jobs that make people wear ties I'm going to avoid them like the plague.

I would rather break the rules and get in trouble for it than have an easily-avoided meltdown. Because meltdowns are scary and painful and exhausting, and could potentially cause me to injure myself or someone else, whereas breaking one rule is only going to get me a telling-off from a teacher. Which is obviously not pleasant, but it's better than a fucking meltdown.

And I'm not the only one breaking the rules. Probably more than half the school does it. Because we're beyond the point of caring.

What's really ironic is that the adults who essentially just take the piss out of young people are not stopping us from acting like their "stereotypical teenagers". They're practically encouraging it. If you refuse to show us basic respect, we are going to get angry. We are going to retaliate. You can't expect us to be goody two-shoes golden children when you make out we're all dickheads that don't deserve to be taken seriously or have our needs met.

If you treat us like criminals, we might as well act accordingly.

#rant #angry rant #uk secondary school let's goooo #idk why i decided to talk about this #i just randomly remembered that goddamn video and then this post happened #it's almost one in the morning #psa for adults: you can't treat kids like shit and then whine when we call you out on it #it feels weirdly thrilling to be more grown-up than a literal adult #like my tutor is a middle-aged man #and he has no idea how to talk to people sensibly #he just dodges every question he gets #sometimes i wonder why he's a teacher

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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 3 months

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Good Morning, World.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

#poorly drawn mdzs #mdzs #wei wuxian #jiang yanli #jiang cheng #'Good Morning World' because to wwx the jiang household is what grounds him. It is his burrow and blanket.#The familiar soup and banter is his home. The familiar arguments and tension are also his home.#Notice how quickly he throws LWJ to the side once he has JC back in reach! 'He was so boring; I wish *you* were there!'#WWX is very quick to constantly remind himself that he fits within a very specific power structure and role.#He pushes boundaries but almost always only the boundaries that he knows he can push against.#Sitting here now and realizing that if WWX did take life more seriously and act more diligent he would totally usurp JC.#Because the contrast with Them (tm) is wwx is the one that gets in trouble and JC is the one that sticks to the rules.#That responsible appearance especially in contrast is the thin line that holds JC's self-esteem together.#And lets be fully honest. From JC's perspective the last week was also extremely intense and stressful.#It truly was a feat to travel so far so fast despite also being exhausted. Never knowing if it is all in vain.#JC said with his actions 'I would move mountains for you and dig through stone with my bare hands if it meant reaching you.'#and WWX said '[read]'#It's about wwx chronically asking 'why would someone care for me? I'm always tool to be used' than accepting that people love him.

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tinyclowndancer · 2 months

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#good morning oceanviewers I'm setting things up for a gifset and just wanted to share these very important bits combined 😇#I can almost hear one of Alan's screams for help from DBD when I look at the first gif - as if he expected Tim to show up in his aid #while Zane is literally like 🥵🥴#little shit (affectionate)#Thomas Zane #Alan Wake #Alan Wake 2 #Ilkka Villi #Remedy Entertainment #tinyclowntent #🎮#tw: flashing

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oya-oya-okay · 2 months

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Knowing Grimm bakes a cake in his masterchef, that means Ciel bake a cake and how Malleus like his cooking despite his huge dislike of oversize cakes. Malleus does care about his child of man.

damn it...😭😭😭😭 That's great💘💘💘💘

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desceros · 29 days

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tries to sleep, fails, gets melancholy, copes by writing purple turtle fic donatello/reader, gn!reader, rated t, 1.6k. insomnia, friends to.... friends, (were you ever just friends? are you something more? what is love if not friendship shifted an inch to the left?), yearning, yearning, yearning, yearning—

Donatello is sleeping.

Hefting a fatigued sigh, you hover in the doorway to his bedroom for a moment. Staring at his face, taking it in. He’s gotten unfairly handsome as the years have gone by. Beautiful, even. Pretty angles, sharp defined lines, dark seductive eyes. Like this, unmasked, slack in sleep, it’s free for you to look as much as you want. More than you can during the day. A little secret thing just for your own heart’s keeping.

…Best friends shouldn’t want to stare at each other like this, you think with an ache.

It’s late. You can’t sleep. Lying down has provided nothing but racing thoughts you can’t quiet. Things to do tomorrow. Things to say when you see someone. Things to write down if you can hold them until the morning. Things, things, things. So many things in your head, ten thousand little voices like little snowflakes in your skull. Each small, powerless; but together, a force too mighty to outrun.

And Donnie is sleeping. Normally he’s awake. Fiddling, poking, prodding, studying, twisting, cracking, bending. Available to draw you into sleep. Always soothing, petting your hair, cooing at you until you drift off at last to the dulcet sounds of his low rumbles.

But not tonight. Tonight he sleeps, pretty in his sheets even as he’s all sprawled out and drooling. Cute. He’s cute. He’s cute and close enough to touch but so, so far away that you know you never will. Not like that. Not like that.

It’s late. You can’t sleep.

Slowly, not wanting to wake him, infuriated with yourself just at the thought that you’d risked it by lingering as long as you have, you peel away from his door frame and sneak into the living room. The couch greets you again. Inviting, soft. It smells like turtle ass. Popcorn. Movie night. It smells like family, like home. Scratchy beneath your cheek. You’ve been meaning to get them some new pillows. The way Mikey had laughed so hard he’d snorted his drink. Leo’s squawk when it got all over him. The weight of Donnie’s arm on your shoulder when he’d leaned on you while laughing until he got the hiccups. His cologne, new, smells nice. You should tell him tomorrow.

(You can’t tell him. There’s no way for a best friend to look at the other with pupils shaped like hearts and be the same. You can’t tell him.)

Heavily, you sigh. It’s late. You can’t sleep.

You sit up. Get up off the couch. Stretch a little before exhaling and walking around a bit to try and work off some of this excess energy. The darkness of the living room isn’t so much, anymore, what with how your eyes have adjusted. You can see the pieces of the evening strewn about. A pizza box that Splinter’s going to find in the morning and yell at the lot of you for not throwing out. Raph’s teddy bear, leaning against the other couch where he’d been pretending he hadn’t been using it to hide his face in the scary parts. Mikey’s cup, half-full, forgotten in Leo’s panic to find paper towels. And—

—Donnie, standing in the doorway, bleary-eyed, arms folded.

“Why are you awake?” he asks, voice tumbling over your ears like rocks on a riverbed. Guilt strikes you like a blow. He’s exhausted. You’ve woken him up.

“I’m sorry,” you say as an answer, tangling your fingers in the shirt you’d borrowed out of his closet. The shirt you always borrow. The shirt that’s half yours, now.

Donnie’s quiet. You sink your teeth into your lower lip and hope he’ll shrug and go back to bed. Maybe, if he’s lucky, he’s got enough sleep juice in him that he’ll drift right back off and forget this happened.

He doesn’t. “…Can’t sleep?”

The guilt burns your skin like sand in the wind. You smile and pretend. “I’ll be okay. Go back to bed, Don. You need it more than I do.”

He doesn’t.

“…Please?” you try again.

You’re met, instead, with a sigh. He rubs the back of his head where his mask would tie if he were wearing it. Lets his arm fall to his side—ah, except no. He’s holding out his hand, palm outstretched, inviting you to come close. When you don’t, his beak wrinkles. “Come here.”

You take a few steps closer, but don’t take his hand just yet. “What are you doing?”

“Just come here,” he says again, curling his fingers a few times in an imperious grabby command. You come closer. He opens his tired eyes in a squint, mouth dipped into a frown, and his gesture gets more demanding. “Come here.”

Stepping closer, closer, closer, finally you get within range. You realize he wants your hand the moment he loses patience with you, watching as he rolls his eyes and reaches out to encircle your wrist with strong fingers. They eclipse the bones there easily, tugging as he turns, pulling you out of the living room.

“Don—” you start to protest, but he stops you with a breath.

“Stubborn,” he accuses, though there’s no heat to the word. The scoff is thick on the back of your tongue—Donnie of all people calling you stubborn—but you don’t let it out, knowing it’ll be too-loud in the pitch night.

He pulls you into his room, the very room that had been such a sweet siren song to you earlier. He pulls you towards his bed. He pulls you in behind him when he settles in. He pulls you beneath his blanket. He pulls, pulls, pulls, until your chest is flush to his plastron and his arm is around your waist and his breath is in your face and your heart is in your throat.

It’s late. You’re not going to be able to sleep.

“…Go to sleep,” he says after a few seconds, doubtless able to feel the way your pulse is like a hummingbird against his skin.

“Sorry,” you say in lieu of—anything else. You don’t dare try to say another word, unsure of what exactly would tumble out instead. Perhaps a sweet poem about the texture of his skin against yours. Maybe a lament that he feels the need to tuck his thigh between yours so so so close to where you wake in a pool of sweat dreaming of his touch. Or possibly a whispered confession that tastes like lightning and blood and sugar all at the same time; that you want this but not this, you want this but more.

Gently, a forehead bonks against yours. Dark eyes open and meet yours, centimeters away. He studies you, and you watch the gears turn. More slowly than usual, lethargic even, because of his slumber.

“You’re thinking too much,” he murmurs. Dumbly, you nod. “Need to talk about it?”

“…Yeah,” you admit, then, “…but I won’t.”

He doesn’t like that. A frown mars his beautiful, beautiful face.

“Why?”

You swallow the incredulous laugh, the kaleidoscope of responses. They’re all irrelevant, impossible to share, save for one. “You should sleep.”

Donnie’s hand tightens, fingers curling in his—your—shirt in the small of your back. “So should you.”

“Yeah.”

“…”

“…I don’t understand.” The confession, rare, makes you sigh.

“…I don’t either,” you tell him. And you don’t. Why did you have to feel this way for him? Why couldn’t it be someone easier that stole your heart? Why does it have to be the one person you can’t stand to lose? Why does he have to be so comfortable touching you like this and making it hurt even worse? Why can’t you stop feeling this way?

Why can’t you sleep? Why can’t you sleep?

His fingers unfurl from your shirt. His hand dips beneath the hem, finding the skin of your back. Slow shivers spread like little earthquakes as he strokes along your spine, tectonic caresses that ripple and destroy. It's familiar enough a touch that you don't stop him; unfamiliar enough that it rends you inside out.

Donnie leans in. Ghosts his lips along your jaw. It’s not a kiss; you’re just friends, after all. But it’s a sweet caress that feels good, all the way to where he lingers at your ear, whispering there, quivering at the touch that's too close to something else to be fair. “Close your eyes.”

You have one rule: listen to Donatello. So you do; you close your eyes, let his nails drag down your back, let his mouth press warm into your pulse, let his chest rumble with churrs that fill the night air with something akin to a lullaby. His legs curl around yours, mixing, confusing, making the separation of you disappear.

It’s… maddening. You hate this. You love him. You love him so much. You hate that he can do this so easily.

“Shhh,” comes the gentle coo against your skin, like he can tell you’re pulling away from his intent. You obey that, too. Donnie says to be quiet, so you quiet. Thoughts, movements, words; all of them fall away at his beckoning. “Just like that. Good.”

Good, you think, feeling a little fuzzy. It feels good to be good for him. God. You’d be so good for him—but no. None of that, now. Not when you can pretend that these little presses of his lips are kisses. That the thickness of his thigh pressed to your shorts means something. That his hand scratching lines in your skin is something meant to claim as much as it is to calm.

“Making me work for it tonight,” you hear him mumble, half-conscious of the words, not sure if they’re real or part of a dream he’s built for you. “Good job, sweetheart. Just like that.”

More brushes of his mouth. A slow glide of tongue. A lovely dream, you think, finally letting your muscles go slack. A dream of a Donatello who would hold you like this, talk to you like this. A Donatello who is more than just your best friend.

It’s late. Finally, warm and held and pulled into a sweet dream, finally, you sleep.

#me slurring with a voice thick with sleep: two best friends that are in love but too close to tell and so they dance like leaves in the wind #forever brushing close. darting about like little butterflies. gossamer wings catching the light and enchanting one another w each breath #but too close. too close. you can't see the scope of a painting when it's the single strokes that catch your eye.#.....................it's almost four in the morning. im sure there are errors but i shan't be fixing them now. have it as it comes #tmnt #rise #donatello/reader #my fic #rating: t

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jkvjimin · 1 month

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(56/∞) the perfect nose for butterflies to land on it ♡

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hajihiko · 1 year

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Ultimate Sneak Attack

#An art #Hajime hinata #Fuyuhiko kuzuryu #Sdr2 #Super danganronpa 2 #Kuzuhina #Almost signed my url instead lol #Mushy morning doodle #Gotta take advantage when the prickly ones asleep (before he gets used to it)

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tuppaware-art · 11 months

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“and will a not come again? no, no, he is dead, go to thy death-bed, he never will come again.”

#arthur pendragon #bbc merlin #king arthur #merlin fanart #merlin fandom #merthur #bbcmerlin #bbc merthur #i had this idea this morning and then sat and drew it in one sitting #it took almost ten hours and fifteen thousand brush strokes #anyway i’m super happy with this #ophelia #ophelia hamlet

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bittersweetresilience · 3 months

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so do you think he succeeded?

#i woke up out of nowhere at seven in the morning with his speech playing in my head over and over again #a better world. a free world. turn me into shredded paper #and i was thinking about how i would be really annoyed if the wish never had any consequences because if that was the case félix deserved #to make his own. in this new world there's still obfuscation. people are still pulling the strings. there's still fucking nepotism LMAO #i also almost put the ring scene as who gets powers and who doesn't because i think a lot about whether ladybug would have granted all #sentimonsters autonomy or only the ones she perceives to be human #i didn't because i couldn't find anything else that fit what's right or wrong but know i have many thoughts on this subject #miraculous ladybug #🌃#ml gifs #ml emotion #ml recreation #ough... félix #sunny from the future here i kept this in my drafts for a bit but it shall now be dispensed to you because i am a magnanimous ruler

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willthespy · 5 months

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The Big Three (Torture Devices):

Electric Chair, Water Torture and AAAAHH!! EMO KID!!

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absoluteinsanity-mdashton · 26 days

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Ok y'all!! Since ep 7 came out, I had to rewatch the episode a couple times just to get through the itty bitty details of it and I came up with a Crack pot theory on how season 1 will end.

I think Uzi will become God aka become one witn the absolute solver.

Think about it.

There's a sudden hint about it going as far back as episode 2. You know the part where Uzi says, "I'm good. I'm better than good!! I am GOD!!!"

While that might be played off for laughs as first, but after watching all the episodes leading up to ep 7, I suspect that's it a subtle hint of foreshadowing.

Not to mention, the recent merch video glitch just dropped recently has all the murder drone pluhsies bow down to the Solver Uzi glass window acrylic stand as if she's some God/deity.

Again!!! This could just be played off for laughs as the show tends to do shit like that sometimes...

But it makes you wonder??? Why put effort into a joke that's supposed to be a red herring the first time mentioned when it hints of it come back like we're supposed to NOT take it seriously.

Like... I can't be the only one who genuinely believes this right??? RIGHT?!!! RIGHT?!!!!!!!

#its almost 9 am in the morning #ive been thinking about this for a while #please help me im going insane #LIKE YOU CANNOT TELL ME THAT THERES A SLIGHT CHANCE UZI BECOMES ONE WITH THE SOLVER #as the saying goes #if you cant beat em?? join em #murder drones #glitch productions #liam vickers animation #uzi doorman #murder drones theory #murder drones spoilers #slight spoilers

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rorja · 14 days

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synopsis. you, suguru, and a window left open— or, the soothing lullaby of springtime.

a/n. very much self-indulgent and probably with a lot of mistakes (be patient please, i’ll correct it first thing in the morning!) but i really needed to write a moment of peace after a troubling week…….. also, i’ve been very sick and this is my first attempt at writing after a long time so i apologize if it’s not that good TT — 🐣

it was comforting, watching the thin but sturdy branches of the plum tree stretching to the glittering dots adorning the sky. regulus's fiery mane moving delicately as the evening breeze's note echoed in the air. waking up every sleeping blossom, cradling in a motherly embrace each of its sons and daughters that were yet to be awakened.

spring. where your eyes landed you could spot significant signs of its long awaited arrival, from the night sky to the grass steadily growing inches in your neighborhood's garden. it made a smile bloom on your lips, the same way pink and whiteish buds littered every branch of the plum trees.

you traced the astronomical asterism one more time, drawing an imaginary line that connected the three luminous stars of the evenings to come. an invisible triangle that linked arcturus with spica, just to finish on the other side of the sky and meet with the last component of the brightly lit trio: regulus. many people (and internet. mostly internet) would argue with power points at hand and scientific theories that the white star of denebola was a better choice than regulus. more suited to close the imaginary triangle, resulting in a nearly equilateral one at the price of brightness.

but you didn't care. that place belonged to regulus because that is what you saw the first time you used a telescope. and no one could've made you change your mind, of that you were sure. stubborn just as much over something that wasn't even real but dear to you.

your chest danced slightly— a breathy chuckle finding its way out as you eventually lifted your growing aching arms from the windowsill.

(you know a person who would've found that stubborness of yours endearing.)

a yawn parted your lips and the door cracked open. it had been a long day— a long week even, for both of you of course. but this time around it had been particularly rough for suguru. he was the one to come home with an aching back and tired limbs, though it was not that hard to see how fatigue latched on his body. a voracious snake that found a comfortable nest in between his chest, refusing to leave him alone.

it was the main reason as to why dinner was made a little earlier today and the dishes were left on the counter to dry for the night. you will put them back in the respective cupboard tomorrow as the first thing in the morning. for tonight, you decided to prioritize your rest.

it was also the reason why suguru took a longer-than-usual shower and got out of it only now. the noticeable difference in his shoulders made relief bloom in your chest— no more slumped, or a tad bit droopy but instead relieved, back to their natural stance as if the weight holding them down had been lifted. a minuscule change that probably would have gone unnoticed by others.

he walked toward the bed, phone steady in one hand while typing an answer to satoru and ieiri. it was easy to tell who suguru was writing to. you noticed overtime that when he texted the two of them he wiggled his nose a lot and (if gojo ended up saying something stupid or sending weird memes) his frown lines became more wrinkled, like a child trying to comprehend the meaning of a new word. it was adorable.

you followed his steps, raising the duvets and moving away the excessive amount of pillows on your side of the bed. suguru did the same on his own half.

"satoru giving you a hard time?" a breathy chuckle. he didn't answer, simply shaking his head in resignation and placing the phone on his bedside table before collapsing on the bed with a content exhale. you took that as a sign to join him.

"just satoru being satoru," you didn't fail to notice how his eyes softened when looking at you, "i think yuji should stop teaching him about internet slangs. he's been doing the deez nuts thing for two weeks already"

though there were traces of hopelessness heavily lingering on his words, you couldn't help but notice something else— something that you recognized immediately after as fondness. a familiar feeling that he reserved only for the few people he truly cared about. you didn't even try to stop the laughter bubbling in your chest.

(suguru watched as your eyes crinkled in amusement. the sound of your laughter lulling him to further relieve- soothing away every stubborn trace of stress still sitting heavy in his bones.

spring waltzed from the opened window, attracted by your presence. he couldn't blame it; you were the spring he eagerly looked forward to seeing each day.)

when your laugh eventually dimmed, his phone lightened up with new messages to read. suguru retrieved it and you did the same with yours, wordlessly shifting in a comfortable lull and a familiar embrace. a satisfied hum broke momentarily the blanket of silence falling on the room when you felt his free arm around your shoulders. fingers playing absentmindedly with the strands of your hair, messily splayed on the pillow.

you nuzzled closer to his chest, your cheek now resting on the thin fabric of his white shirt he had been recently using to sleep with. phone clasped in one of your hands while you scrolled mindlessly through the feed of your favorite social media.

and it's gentle. serene. a moment of shared complicity that carried the veiled scent of blossoming flowers and stardust. a needed addition to the relationship that brought somehow a welcomed sense of mundanity.

when suguru eventually fell asleep first, his chin resting on top of your head, you didn't have it in yourself to get up and close the window. too pleasant, too cozy to even entertain the thought of leaving it for a few seconds. you will close it tomorrow, first thing in the morning. as of tonight, you'll let yourself be cradled by the sweet lullaby happening outside that very same window.

(suguru's arms never felt so much like home before.)

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