Taking long strides, Seto walked down the street with hands shoved deep in his pockets. A smile lay on his face, as it usually did. And why would it not be there? The sun was high, a nice breeze was keeping him cool, and only a few blocks separated him from his closests friends.

The blackette turned a corner, the base now coming into view. I wonder how their day went~? he mused.


"I’m home-!" The blackette anounced as he shut the door. It surprised him that Kano wasn’t sprawled out on the couch as he normally was, or that the Kisaragi’s weren’t filling the room with one of their famous arguments. Well, he supposed, I guess nobody’s home right now?

Seto trecked up the stairs, aiming for his own room but being distracted by shuffling noises from behind Kido’s closed door. A bit reluctant, he knocked, humming “Tsubomi…?”

radical feminists screech about how trans women are ~socialized as males~ and how that gives them male privilege but are surprisingly silent on closeted queer kids being ~socialized as cishets~ or abled people who become disabled later in life being ~socialized as abled~