#heartbeat prompt

[iiscpr]

silence

[savanir]

DP x DC prompt [9]

Danny doesn't remember much of what happened after his fight with Pariah. he knows the suit nearly killed him. 

He knew he passed out after and had to be carried back.

But considering the fact that the sky is blue and he's in his bedroom it was pretty safe to say that it was a classic case of a job well done and everything was back to normal.

The next day however, more and more oddities started happening. 

No longer did Amity Parkers get assaulted by GIW warnings when they accessed the internet. Instead they just got… nothing, nada, zilch.

Did the GIW go all in and just disconnect them from the rest of the world completely?

But then it became clear that that was the case with everything. stores weren't getting any shipments. 

phone calls would automatically say that numbers weren't in use. 

packages and mail weren't being picked up. 

Very worryingly, credit cards also stopped working and any attempt to contact the bank went utterly nowhere. 

people gradually are starting to get more and more worried.

Amity was very independent and self sufficient but this was a bit much.

At the very least now the city was more open to the doctor's Fenton energy solution of simply using Ecto to power everything.

The guys in white didn't show up in the city anymore either. 

The same went for the other out of town ghost hunters.

and after a quick check from Danny himself (as Phantom) he confirmed that the little not so very hidden base the guys in white had set up outside of the city borders was now simply gone.

Not only that but the roads going out of Amity also just suddenly stop.

At this point Team Phantom is starting to have a certain suspicion, and Sam asks Danny to find the nearest gas station and get them some newspapers.

Back home and now with a bunch of newspapers spread out over the floor with articles about Alien invasions in a place called Metropolis or the top floors of a skyscraper being blown up in a city called Gotham, they have enough to confirm their worries.

“Guys I think we got put back wrong”

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 352

“Mother, I crave violence,” a small child interrupts the video call, practically clambering up into Nightingale’s chair. They look around five or so, with white hair and red eyes. Albino perhaps? 

“Ah, apologies, let me take care of this real quick,” Nightingale turns the microphone off when he gets a few acknowledging noises, picking the small child up and moving them from the room. 

“Cute kid,” Barry acknowledged from behind his coworker’s head, having been helping move things. Actually, the kid looked kind of familiar, though from where, who knew. Hard to remember everything with how fast his thoughts usually went. “I didn’t know Nightingale was a father…” 

Then again the specialist was notoriously private, and set most meetings online thanks to some sort of medical conditions. So he supposed it would make it easier to be a stay at home dad if he was there already…

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #54

The Justice League came up with a program to find young metas in small towns to help find those with powers so they can help them master their powers so they don’t hurt anyone. They’ve especially targeted small towns and set up through schools to run the tests in a controlled setting. Amity Park is one of the towns they decided to visit, and Casper High is one of the schools they visit, especially with the supposed ghost attacks. They wanted to make sure the ghosts weren’t a meta with a crazy uncontrolled power.

Danny just wanted to sleep, but they already visited his house and knew he went to Casper high. Batman and Superman visited Fenton Works to get some ghost hunting gear, although they mostly picked up Spector Deflectors to wear. Danny really didn’t want to go to school but he knew it would be suspicious if he didn’t. Little does he know part of the test is a physical checkup.

[chiharuuu22]

The Most Beautiful Music

Whumpee is good at playing musical instruments. Call it guitar, piano, or harmonica, even just by banging on the table, he can produce beautiful tones. Many times, Whumpee sings to Caretaker, and Caretaker likes to hear it.

After the final battle with Whumper, Whumpee became very weak from all his injuries and could only lie in bed for days. Never mind playing music; he has difficulty just moving.

Today, after Caretaker finished feeding Whumpee, Caretaker sat beside the bed while stroking Whumpee's hands. Suddenly, Whumpee took Caretaker into his arms and pressed her head to his chest. Caretaker could hear Whumpee's heart beating evenly. The rhythm is steady and calming.

"Sorry, as soon as I get better, I'll play music for you again," said Whumpee.

Caretaker nodded, and the two of them hugged each other tightly. Caretaker enjoyed the sound of Whumpee's heartbeat, which was now the most beautiful music she had heard.

[sweaterrat]

Draw your otp like this!!!!

[clownakai]

"Dance with me."

Shuuichi very nearly chokes on his drink. "Pardon?"

Scotch smiles beatifically back at him. Definitely tipsy, at least a little bit. "Dance with me."

"I can't dance," he blurts out, the lie slipping past his lips as smooth as breathing.

Silence falls over the flat, only broken by the sound of Mochi's hissing from inside Scotch's bedroom; Hana has probably been bothering him again.

"That's fine," Scotch eventually replies, "I'll just have to guide you." With all due respect, fuck that.

"Why?"

"Well, I obviously can't let you lead if you don't know how to dance." Scotch leans back against the couch, looking for all the world like someone who just cracked the Twin Prime Conjecture or some other equally convoluted math problem (thank you, Shuukichi).

Shuuichi scowls, bringing his drink to his lips only to realize that the glass is already empty, again. "Why would I want to?" he clarifies.

"Ugh." Scotch rolls his eyes, muttering something about all workaholics being the same. "Live a little, why don't you? We can even turn the lights off if you're that embarrassed."

Way more than slightly tipsy, Shuuichi corrects his previous assessment with a sigh. "I'd be stepping on your toes the entire time if we did that."

"You'd manage it even with the lights on."

Shuuichi's eyes narrow. For the sake of his lie, he doesn't correct Scotch's claim. Let the guy believe what he wants, so that proving him wrong will be that much— hm.

He glances critically at his empty glass. He'd better cut back on the drinking for tonight, lest he want to end up embarrassing himself for real.

Then again, if he doesn't dance at all, those chances will inevitably drop to zero, thus allowing for more drinks to be had. Who knows, he might even get something mildly useful out of his flatmate in that case.

Scotch shifts in his periphery, successfully drawing Shuuichi's gaze to himself. He knows exactly what he's doing: it's in his posture, so loose and relaxed it can be nothing but studiously arranged; in his hands— long, calloused fingers loosely holding up a crystal glass (and petting Hana and chopping vegetables and dancing on bass strings and carding through Shuuichi's hair); in his eyes, so very blue and positively smoldering (there's a sliver of ice in them, ready to pierce and tear and sink: Shuuichi pretends he doesn't see it).

Tipsy, but no less dangerous because of it: Shuuichi had better keep that in mind. He should tread carefully, play it safe— turn down the offer once and for all.

Oh, who is he kidding?

"Fine." He puts his glass down with a clink. "Show me how to dance."

Scotch looks, for lack of a better descriptor, absolutely delighted. Shuuichi suddenly regrets more than a few of his life choices.

The other man stands up with remarkable grace for someone who has been drinking for the past hour and a half; he waits for Shuuichi to do the same, and at no point does he stop looking at him— through him, digging and searching and for a weightless moment Shuuichi wonders—

"I set the music up, you get the lights?" Scotch asks, blinking it all away.

Shuuichi valiantly holds back a grimace, but nonetheless moves to comply. "If we fall and break something, do me a favor and shoot me before Bourbon comes back."

Scotch snorts, and Shuuichi's stomach most definitely does not do a little victory dance. It doesn't.

He flips the light switch, plunging the living room into darkness: the only remaining light sources are Scotch's phone and a stray ray of moonlight feebly peeking past the mostly-closed curtains. Shuuichi takes advantage of those to orient himself, smoothly padding past the couch with nary a sound; he's sadly not fast enough to catch a glimpse of Scotch's screen, instead finding himself being led to the emptiest part of the room as the first notes of a simple waltz begin to fill the air.

"Right. So, the first thing you want to do is—" Shuuichi only has an inch or so on Scotch, height wise; it's certainly not enough of a difference for him to successfully pretend not to be taken by the moonlight striking the man's features, only barely reflected in his eyes.

(There they are, those shards of ice. Primed and ready, a hair's breadth away.

Ever the fool, Shuuichi inches closer.)

"— even listening to me?" Scotch asks, sounding torn between amusement and mild annoyance.

"My right hand in your left," Shuuichi absentmindedly parrots, "my left on your shoulder. You go left foot forward, the other to the right, close with the left, then right foot backwards, the other to the left, and close with the right. I just mirror you."

"... Okay, good." Scotch doesn't sound baffled, but Shuuichi is pretty sure he went a little overboard and recited something the other hadn't said yet. God fucking dammit.

"I know what a waltz is," he tries to salvage, "I've just never tried dancing it." For his own sake, Shuuichi prays that all the drinks he had tonight will help him sell the beginner act he talked himself into.

Scotch gives him no verbal answer; nonetheless, the silence feels as loud as a blaring horn to Shuuichi. Then there are hands on him, one coaxing his own upward while the other slips under his arm and comes to rest on his back, miraculously avoiding getting caught in his hair at it splays right beneath his shoulder blades, and Shuuichi almost forgets to let Scotch guide his hand into the correct position rather than doing it himself.

Right now, he might hate his own shirt more than anything.

"Alright." Scotch is... close. Not quite chest to chest, but still enough for Shuuichi to smell a hint of alcohol when he speaks. "Waltzes are in three quarters, so we're just going to— one, two, three."

Shuuichi doesn't even need to pretend: he stumbles through the first few rounds, the hand on his back burning like a brand. He wonders if Scotch can feel Shuuichi's heart jackrabbiting beneath his fingers, a caged beast in its own right.

(It sure feels to Shuuichi like it's trying to claw its way out of his chest.)

The waltz eventually gives way to a slow song Shuuichi doesn't recognize but is still aware enough to know how to adapt to: he doesn't startle when all of a sudden Scotch is everywhere, chest pressed against his and arm dipping to Shuuichi's waist and face so close the tips of their noses almost touch— yet he's deafened by his own heartbeat, a relentless drumming in his ears as Scotch meets his eyes and smiles.

"So you did lie to me," Scotch murmurs, smile widening when Shuuichi freezes. "This one's in four quarters, so it's no longer a waltz. But you didn't need me to tell you that, did you?"

Shuuichi swallows dryly. With how they're standing— with how Scotch is holding him—, the flush he can feel creeping onto his cheeks is just about the only thing he can feasibly keep to himself; everything else is fair game, from twitching hands and shallow breathing to faltering steps and a heartbeat so loud he struggles to convince himself that the other still can't hear it.

"No," he admits, and watches the ice spin in Scotch's eyes. "I didn't."

Shuuichi almost expects the operative to let go, to step back and put a healthy distance between them; what he gets is Scotch's fingers drumming a silent tune on his waist and one of the guy's legs moving forward in a tacit bid to keep dancing. Shuuichi obligingly follows, happy enough to let the other lead while he gets his shit together, although he puts his foot down the moment Scotch tries to raise their clasped hands above their heads.

"You're not turning me," he huffs, then curses himself for speaking up when Scotch's breathy laugh warms his lips.

"Next time, then." The weight around Shuuichi's waist disappears, and this time Scotch steps away for good, leaving him cold, adrift and hungry for something he can't quite place.

Shuuichi stares at his retreating form— what little he can distinguish of it in the dark, at least—, then sets out to distract himself by clearing the low table of all evidence of their drinking. It'll certainly not be enough to fool someone like Bourbon, but it'll knock 'leaving a mess for others to clean up' off the list of complaints he might receive tomorrow.

He knows what this— all of this— was. He's been taught how to do the same himself and he can't afford to fall for it.

(He thinks of those eyes, dark waters waiting to drown him.)

He really, really can't.

(Scotch took his phone with him, but Shuuichi still hears something: one-two, three-four; one-two, three-four. It's nothing like the all-encompassing drumming from before, and it makes him wonder...

Maybe his heart had felt so loud because it wasn't the only one he'd been hearing.)

[raplinenthusiasts]

I saw video lately that said that Taehyung is to Namjoon what Jungkook is to Yoongi BUT also the other way… that Namjoon is to Jungkook what Yoongi is to Tae and I simply cannot stop thinking about it…

it slowly eats my brain because it’s just so beautiful and makes me soft 🥹

[moonlight-stalker]

# 93 Dcu x Dp

Nightingale industry is a big name like Wayne Enterprises, they are known to make clean energy and make all kinds of electronics that had a sci-fi look to them. All of it is run by a man named Daniels Nightingale from what the bats can find was that the Nightingale industry had started as a company known as Vladco that was combined with a small company known as Fenton Works. From what the bats can find Vladco mostly created weapons and Fenton works built all kinds of things that use some unknown power source but they also build the same kind of weapons that Vladco made. The problem was that the bats can not find what type of weapons they used to make, but they did find blueprints of a portal in both companies and a newer one that seem to belong to Nightingale.

They want to figure out what Daniel Nightingale is planning the problem is that Nightingale is known to never accepted an invitation to any gathering or event, and he has never been known to do business deals face to face.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 254

So. Danny might have accidentally become a bit of a cryptid. He didn’t mean to, but he’d become a bit nocturnal- like many an Amity Parker- and it wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t be bothered to make sound when he was tired. Or pretend to breathe or, okay, he could see why he kept freaking people out at the grocery store he kept going to. 

But it wasn’t his fault! He has to get food too! And really is it anyone else’s business? Seriously he thought that people wouldn’t be so surprised with how much magic is everywhere. Like you’d think they’d never seen someone who wasn’t fully human before or something. 

Oh great, there’s a journalist at the grocery store now- he’s going to ignore that and finish his shopping and then continue his online work. Ooh, and eat icecream. He deserves it for potentially putting up with this. 

Oh, it’s a little baby reporter, first couple of article thing. Adorable. 

[goodlucktai]

Feel free to ignore this ask if it's overstepping, but whenever I have to do something stressful involving my mental health I channel/process those feelings by writing fanfic of my blorbos doing the same thing. So, any thoughts about rise Leo going to his first therapy session post-movie in the Hidden City? Could even take place in the City Lights verse.

x

Mikey is kicking the heel of his foot against the waiting room chair over and over, full of a restless sort of worry. 

It was an uphill battle getting Leo to agree to this in the first place. God, Mikey would almost rather fight the Shredder again then relive that first conversation about it. Being stubborn is a Hamato trait but Leo takes it to a whole new level. 

Thankfully, he is and always has been a daddy’s boy. 

“I have not always been a good father to you,” Splinter finally says, interrupting the beginning stages of Donatello Losing His Absolute Shit Out Of Love. He pats Leo’s cheek gently. “But I am putting my foot down this time, Blue.”

“You’re the medic,” Raph points out. “You wouldn’t let one of us walk around with a broken bone, would you?”

For all that he’s spent the last two years in a state of constant anxiety and frustration, he never lost that softness that makes him their Raph. He still carries it around with him, and hands it out freely where it’s needed, and right now he’s wrapping it around Leo as deftly as a blanket. 

And for all that Leo has this stupid idea lately that he’s supposed to be perfect and self-reliant and never burden his family with anything he could handle on his own, he’s still their Leo. He buckles under genuine affection like a house of cards. 

He puts up one last token protest. “That’s not the same thing.”

“It’s exactly the same thing,” Donnie says, just barely not a snap. “You have literally bullied me into telehealth sessions before.”

He’s not angry, not really. He just cares so much and he can’t get the words to come out right and he wants Leo to do what is best for Leo without arguing about it, even though they all know that’s just flat-out impossible. 

“It’s different,” Leo stresses, well and truly at his emotional threshold. “You deserve—”

He cuts himself off but the damage is done. Everyone knows what he was going to say, what he meant. The tension in the room ratchets up to a solid fifteen on a max ten scale. Donnie starts flapping his hands. Casey looks pale and haunted. Mikey bites down on the wounded sound he wants to make, but Raph’s arms tighten around him like he heard it anyway.

“Yeah,” April says in a tone that lets all of her little brothers know not to mess around, “you’re going to therapy, Leon.” 

Splinter grips Leo’s chin before he can sink into his shell. There’s an ocean of grief in the rat’s eyes that Mikey is worried he might drown in. But there’s love, too. Mountains of it, rising out of turbulent water, steady and immovable and forever.

“Don’t hide yourself away,” Splinter says. Maybe it’s something he would have liked someone to say to him, once upon a time. “We love who you are, even if who you are is someone who is struggling right now. Lean on us, Leonardo. You are not alone.”

So here they are. The latest in a string of failures. Mikey keeps bumping his foot into the chair leg, trying not to stare at the clock. 

This is the longest an intake session has lasted. The first one was about ten minutes, but none of them expected the first one to go well. Leo joked about the whole thing and wouldn’t answer anyone’s questions directly. But he went straight to his room afterwards and didn’t come out until he was extracted for dinner, which said plenty. 

The session after that went on for half an hour, but Splinter—and Draxum, who had come along that time and sat in with Leo’s permission—agreed it wasn’t the right fit. The session after that was another no-go, and then the disastrous fourth session almost shut the whole operation down entirely. It lasted all of twenty minutes and ended in property damage. Whatever was said in that office caused Splinter to go full Lou Jitsu and break the desk, a chair, and the door on their way out. Leo was glassy-eyed and unresponsive in a way that caused actual murder to flash through Donnie’s eyes. 

Leo crawled directly into Raph’s open arms and stayed there, cheek pressed to plastron, to better hear the comforting rumble that started up in his brother’s chest. When Mikey crawled in next to him, his hands opened so Mikey could hold them, but otherwise he just blinked slowly and didn’t speak and it was the worst thing ever and Mikey very heroically managed not to burst into tears but it was close. 

They were kind of expecting him to cite The Fourth Session as a reason why they should pack this whole idea up and mail it far away from them to the next bunch of jokers but he didn’t. He just heaved himself off the sofa without a whine or a joke or anything and shuffled after Splinter out the door. 

It made Mikey feel like a bully. It was for Leo’s own good, but it was clearly taking a toll. Opening himself up again and again for a complete stranger, only to have that trust totally unrewarded and sometimes even thrown back in his face. For someone like Leo, whose guard is constant and unwavering even when the only people he has to guard against are his own family, it must be grueling. It must be awful. 

But if they could just find the right fit, Mikey thinks desperately. If they could just find the right person…

“Hey,” Raph says, nudging Mikey’s arm, jolting him out of his thoughts. “He’ll be okay. Pops isn’t gonna let it get as far as it did the last time. He promised.”

“At worst, we’ll be accessories to murder,” Donnie says without looking up from his phone. He sounds like the idea doesn’t bother him at all, and also like it’s much preferable to anyone making his twin even the smallest bit upset for any reason. “In which case I suggest swinging back around to Session Four’s office and tying up loose ends.”

Raph closes his eyes briefly, looking as though he’s actively making plans to wrestle Donnie into therapy next, and then continues as if the softshell hadn’t spoken at all. “Leo’s perfectly safe.”

“No I know,” Mikey says quickly. In part because he knows Raph is trying to make him feel better, also in part because it sounds like maybe Raph is trying to make himself feel better, too. “I just—we’re running out of names in the Hidden City white pages, you know?”

“I can’t believe they still use the white pages here,” Donnie mutters. 

“There’s still a lot of options left for us to try,” Raph says patiently. “And when we run out of options, we’ll come up with another plan. Don’t borrow trouble just yet, okay?” 

Mikey leans on him, trying to absorb some of that steadfastness for himself, and Raph puts an arm around him, drawing him and his whole chair closer with a short shriek of plastic on linoleum. 

A sudden high-pitched, frantic beeping fills the lobby. A few heads in the waiting room turn, but the yokai behind the desk don’t even blink. 

“Is that the fire alarm?” Raph asks in a polite, I’m-not-freaking-out-but-I’m-about-to tone. 

“Oh, honey, it’s okay,” one of the receptionists reassures him at once. She’s been nice to them since they got here and her teal face is lined from a long life of smiling. “This happens all the time. We have wards to prevent fire, but they don’t stop smoke.”

“Um, okay,” Mikey says. “But why is there smoke? In a clinic?” 

The door leading to the offices opens and Leo steps out looking slightly scorched and a little bemused. Splinter is nudging him along, looking like he’s aged ten years in the last sixty minutes, and a beetle yokai shuffles after them sheepishly. 

It’s the beetle yokai who introduced himself as Cricket, the clinical psychologist with licenses from both yokai and human institutions who passed Donatello’s extremely invasive vetting process, and the first doctor to somehow last the full hour with Mikey’s most stubborn brother. He’s five foot nothing and his exoskeleton is a pretty coral color.

��What did you set on fire this time?” one of the employees says in a long-suffering tone. 

“You don’t know for certain that it was me,” Cricket replies with a nervous little yank at his wrinkled button-down shirt. 

“Like the entire lounge,” Leo answers immediately after. “It’s amazing, I’ve never seen anyone fail at cookies that hard before in my life, and I live with Donatello.”

“Offended scoff,” Donnie says loudly. 

“It’s a nice gesture!” Cricket says. “I was making a nice gesture!” 

“Whoever left their lunch on the counter in there, I have bad news,” Leo goes on. One of the yokai tapping away at a computer stops, puts her head in her hand, and sighs. Splinter draws Leo down far enough to pat him on the cheek and then heads toward the reception area to do paperwork things. Leo and Cricket bicker their way across the waiting room.

Mikey feels something buoyant and bubbly happening in his chest, like someone shook a can of soda up in there. This is the most Leo-like Leo has been after a session, in all his playful, sarcastic glory. He glances up and sees the way Mikey is vibrating in his chair and laughs. 

“Jeez, Michael, if you needed to go outside and run around the block I would have understood.”

“I’m saving all my energy for giving you the biggest, proudest, love-you-est hug of my entire career,” Mikey says very seriously. 

Leo’s golden eyes get very bright, which is how Mikey can tell that his heart is smiling even if his face folds into something theatrical and performative. “Am I gonna need to clear my calendar?” 

“The WHOLE day, baby!” 

Cricket is smiling at the picture the four of them make, mandibles clicking idly. Splinter is watching too, his eyes impossibly soft and full of the same pride Mikey’s feeling in spades. 

“What do you say, Leo?” Cricket says. “Same time next week?”

Leo tugs at the sleeve of the purple hoodie he borrowed from Donnie that morning. He glances sidelong at Splinter, who gazes back fondly but doesn’t answer for him. Mikey’s on pins and needles, waiting to hear what he’ll say with his heart in his throat. He thinks he can feel Raph holding his breath. 

“Yeah, I guess,” Leo says after a moment. “Maybe we can burn your office down next time.”

Cricket lets out an affronted little clicking noise but he clearly doesn’t mean it, because he sends the clan off with warm goodbyes. The second they’re out the door, Mikey flings himself at Leo bodily, barely remembering at the last second to be gentle. Donnie has his arm linked through Leo’s good one, and Splinter is hanging back to make a quiet, exhaustively relieved phone call to April and Casey, and Mikey keeps saying how proud he is. He can’t stop. Leo’s the bravest person he knows, the best person, and he has to keep saying it or he’s going to explode. 

“Alright, alright,” Raph says, gently disentangling Leo from the bramble of clingy brothers and lifting him up onto his shoulders instead. “Take us home, Fearless.” 

There’s a smile on Leo’s face that’s almost familiar. It’s not the one Mikey knows, but it’s one he’s getting to know. The fact that his brother is here to smile at all is more of a miracle than most people get in a whole lifetime.

Even if Leo never makes it all the way back to that shining boy he used to be, Mikey can think of at least a billion things to love about the person he is right now.

[novelconcepts]

2023 wrap-up!

In honor of all the art I didn't expect to make this year (cuz BOY was this a rough 12 months), here are some of the pieces I'm proudest of.

shoot a silver bullet (point-blank range) - we love Van Palmer, and we love werewolves, so what's better than combining the two?

i can hear the sirens (but i cannot walk away) - body horror! all the Wilderness-themed body horror! ancient god-girls co-opting teamwork in the most distressing sense of the word!

honey, you’re familiar (like my mirror years ago) - what's better than a show operating in two separate timelines? smashing those timelines together and fixing a few things along the way, of course.

i’m starving, darling (let me put my lips to something) - it's so horny and so bonkers, but let's be real: sapphics turning love into communion via physical consumption is something that can be so personal.

a lifelong love letter - happy wife, happy life. these kids deserve a little kindness in the woods, even if it's a wedding no one else could attend.

wanted my heart (but i gave her my soul) - we love Taissa Turner, and we love vampires. most of all, we love Tai warring with the duality of her nature.

those are my personal faves, but honestly? the fact that I sat down and wrote 28 stories this year, when I thought my brain would never let me write again? a marvel. I'm so proud of everything under this tag.

as an added bonus, I returned to traditional art for the first time in a hot second. I'm so proud of these two, I actually have them framed on my office wall.

2023 was a wild year--filled with an awful lot of mess and loss--but it brought me back to my greatest love: making things. making gay, gay, gay things. the biggest thanks in the world to Yellowjackets as a show and the entire team behind it for reminding me how much I love stories, art, and lesbians navigating trauma. here's to following that rabbit hole deeper in 2024.

[livyapapper]

OHHHH THIS WITH NALU … GONNA DIE

[ahogechef]

[ no-words-needed hug ] a hug given when no more words are needed and they just want to be close to one another @girlishwhiimsy YURIIIIIII!!!! 🎊🎊🎊✨✨✨✨🎊🎊🎊🎉🎉🎉✨🎊🎊

{Different Ways to Hug Someone }

@girlishwhiimsy !!!

After their fun little dinner date at their favorite yakiniku joint, the girls didn't want to return back to their dorms just yet. The night was still young, and the weather was perfect. So, they took a nice stroll through the downtown streets, excitedly chatting away about anything...

They would eventually come across this gazebo, that gives one a nice view of the nearby beach, and the surrounding city streets. Thankfully no one else was here, so they would have this nice little spot, all to themselves... "Ahhh, tonight was so fun! The yakiniku was delicious as always~ And this view...! Honestly, I don't think I ever really took the time to just sit in here... I would always pass it when making trips around this area, but wow... the view of the shore, with the ambience of the city.. it's really peaceful, and pretty...."

It really goes the things one could miss, if you don't stop to look around once in a while. For a moment, she silently took in this atmosphere with Ayumi.. until she softly gasped in surprise when feeling her girlfriend silently wrap her arms around her in a hug. The smile on her face brightens, and immediately, she's wrapping her own arms around Ayumi to pull her even closer against her.

"Mi-chan...."

She hums, gazing lovingly at the girl before she plants soft kisses to her face and lips. Then, she nuzzles against her, giving her a soft squeeze in the hold. Yes... she preferred them relaxing together like this much better: so close together, in each other's arms... The rarer moments where both girls didn't need to be happily yapping away to have fun. Even in this silence, it was comfy, peaceful: one of the many kinds of fun she could have with her. It made the sounds of the city, the calm waves nearby, feel all the more relaxing to hear, while enjoying her girlfriend's warmth all the same...

[givehimthemedicine]

Max panics in the hospital sometimes when her ptsd and disorientation and frustration spike. El doesn't have the words to calm her down and Max isn't super listening anyway when she gets like that.

El wishes she could climb into her bed and just hold her and let her listen to her heartbeat, because she knows that helps Max calm down, but she realistically can't without hurting her, so she steals a stethoscope from the nurse to bring her heartbeat to Max's ears.

[notebookpapers]

Fandom: DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel) Rating: Explicit Relationships: Koujaku/Seragaki Aoba Series: Part 2 of Kinktober 2023

Before dating, he would’ve never pegged Aoba as a kinky fucker, but, well. A man can have his dreams. And now that he is dating Aoba…. well. You can’t complain when everything you want is on the silver platter in front of you.

 A very enthusiastic silver platter, it seems, given the way Aoba’s already moving to strap it around the back of his head.

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Or: Koujaku takes Aoba on a romantic weekend getaway. Aoba is loud. Koujaku has a solution for that.