doa🦊

I’ve said it before, I’ll say it a thousand more times: No piece of dystopian fiction has ever been a prediction of the future. They are observations and criticisms of the present. 

oh to be Spatula bunking down for a snowy night

if you like my art, consider following me on twitter! im much more active there!! my username is the same everywhere :)

satoru and suguru’s safe haven was a home bare of everything but necessities; an armchair worn to threads on the seat from the weight of two lanky boys sharing its space, curled up into one another. a kitchen counter dented and nicked from satoru’s attempts at cooking, floors that creaked by the doors from how little the two left each others side. notches on the wall from measuring their heights, satoru pressing a kiss to suguru’s forehead each time he teased him about “outgrowing him.” a bed of white sheets, one side rumpled and the other made, as if it’d never be laid in again.