#THEY'RE SO SOFT AND IM

[divineandmajesticinone]

4 MINUTES (2024) I 1.04

The first time.

[screamingforests]

How would task force 141 react to the reader giving them puppy eyes (🥺)when they want something?

AND how would task force 141 go about getting the reader to do something for them? Would they get payback and use the puppy eyes as well? or do they have some other method?

Ahhh this is such a cute idea!! I love these sort of asks. This is gonna be quite long

Gaz - he doesn't immediately fold to the puppy eyes, but they do weaken his resolve by quite a bit. With enough pleading and over the top dramatics, he folds quite quickly.

~

"Pleeeease?" You ask, holding up your phone to show some online shop selling something you've been after for ages. A soft plush that has a giant blanket inside. "It would be perfect for movie nights!"

Kyle sighs, "c'mon, love, we have enough blankets and plushes around the house for movie night now."

And when you pull out the puppy eyes with some more soft pleading, he just sighs.

~

Though, when he wants something, he's more sly about it. He 100% uses that charisma to get what he wants without puppy eyes, and he's so smooth about it. It almost makes you mad.

Soap - Folds. Immediately. No hesitation. Your puppy eyes are his greatest weakness and you know it.

~

"Look at her! I could use a companion while you're on missions!" You show him the newspaper listing that someone was selling kitties.

"No, bonnie! I don't want to have to share you with some wild cat!" Johnny pouts at the idea, crossing his arms.

And when you pull out the puppy eyes, he's immediately calling the listed phone number. One would be fine, he supposes.

~

This man would definitely use puppy eyes to his advantage in return. You don't fold quite as quickly as he does, but you still do eventually. It's a win-win, really.

Ghost - I mean, he was more than likely going to buy you whatever you wanted anyway, so the puppy eyes just speed it up. He likes showering you in gifts because he knows he isn't always the best with words. Though, the gifts are meaningful(mostly)

~

"Si!" You shout from across the apartment, running to show Simon what you had just found. "Si! Si! Si!"

"Woah, dove-" Simon grabs your waist, stopping you in your tracks. "What's got you in a hurry?"

"Look!" You shove your phone to his face, your screen showing off a matching pajama set. "I want matching pajamas with you!"

And you already do, but you want another pair so you don't waste any time using your best puppy eyes.

Simon sighs, "Alright, giv' it here, I'll get 'em."

~

When he wants something, he just asks for it straight up. He doesn't ask for much so you know if he's voicing it, however nonchalantly, he must really want it. He spoils you so why can't you return the favor?

Price - Does NOT work on him. He finds it more amusing than anything. Even if you know it doesn't work, you still always try because what if it does work some day?

~

"John, can we stop at that new restuarant?" You ask, pointing it out as the two of you walk around the city.

It was date night, and he was already planning on taking you somewhere even nicer, though you didn't know that.

"Not tonight, luvie," John replies, squeezing your hand. "I have somewhere else for us."

"Oh, please?" You plead softly, pulling out your puppy eyes. "I really want to try it with you tonight."

"Not tonight, maybe some other time," he chuckles softly, "now c'mon, we've got to keep walking if we plan on making it in time."

~

This. Man. Does. Not. Ask. For. ANYTHING. You basically have to pry it out of him, and even then, it's a fight. He just wants to spoil you, and he does not want you spending your hard earned money on him. That's your money, not his. Still, getting him to talk after a few heavy-handed glasses of whiskey is pretty easy.

[solargeist]

guy thats been in a desert for a month, dehydrated and exhausted, killed his boyfriend with his bare hands . but his angel mum is proud

[fatuismooches]

On a rare outing outside of the lab, Dottore introduces you to some of his "friends."

(In other words, Dottore is secretly a corvid lover [also cats but that's for another day] and helps you befriend the little guys because you're a lil jealous. Fragile reader. Also a lil body worship at the end because he's soft ueueue - he undresses you so non-sexual nudity as well, also kisses your thighs a lot.)

Going outside was always a special occasion for you.

It had taken ages upon ages to convince Dottore to let you roam the snowy landscape, and it was only recently when he finally let up. Your health was one of the few things he refused to change his stance on, extremely hesitant to take risks unlike his other experiments. Even a tray of his favorite sweets and a shoulder massage daily couldn't shake his will.

However, it was inevitable that one day he'd have to change his mind. Nothing could last forever, and that included your smile, especially considering your condition. But Dottore would, to his utmost ability, make it last as long as it could. And that meant eventually giving up his long-held conviction if it was ultimately for your benefit. Dull eyes and solemn looks from you were a sight he'd prefer to keep unfamiliar.

And so, with much preparation and thought, and confused agents thrust out of the lab to shovel snow in advance, he had introduced you to the real Snezhnaya. The Harbinger had yet to take you to towns and such, settling for just the surrounding area in the middle of nowhere, but it was still enjoyable. In truth, it had actually become some sort of treat even for him and his segments, being able to see you like this. Your wide eyes sparkling with curiosity, his hand firmly planted on yours, you two taking turns talking at lengths about many things. (Thankfully, the snow seemed to magically ease up on these outings, courtesy of Her Highness of course.)

Today was one such occasion. He had decided that a breath of fresh air would do you some good, and so the two of you were walking a familiar path that never bored you. Though, every time you two would walk a little further than before or deviate a bit from the normal course.

However, if you had to complain about one thing, it was the extent of how Dottore bundled you up for the weather. Seriously, you probably had every type of gear possible for the weather on and you probably looked a bit ridiculous, but you know what, it was worth it. Unsuccessfully throwing snowballs at Dottore and being unable to escape him was worth it.

You were still growing used to the cold blowing against your face, but regardless you still appreciated the fresh air. You never realized how stuffy the lab could get until finally tasting a few snowflakes. And the trees, the wildlife, the sky, the clouds, Dottore taking a break with you, the way his hair would be dusted with snowflakes... everything was wonderful!

But the peacefulness was suddenly interrupted by loud cawing that sounded awfully close. It nearly made you jump a bit, pulling away from being cuddled into your lover's arm. Dottore, however, didn't look fazed and instead paused with a sigh.

"It looks like they're here again," he sounded a bit fed up but you could also detect some underlying affection, an unheard-of occurrence except when it came to you.

"What do you-" Before you could finish your sentence, a sudden flash of black swooped in front of you and then circled back around you, making you start. The fluttering of wings and excited caws were loud as your husband set out his arm.

And then a magnificent black bird perched on Dottore's outstretched arm as if it belonged there, shaking off any remnants of snow. A crow, to be more specific, you think at least.

To put it briefly, you were quite speechless while Dottore acted as if this was nothing out of the usual. The crow continued cawing (in fondness if you had to guess) and hopped closer to the Harbinger's face, pecking at one of his long, thick hair bangs.

"... You had crow friends and you didn't tell me?" You sent him an utterly betrayed look. How lucky was he to somehow gain the trust of these wonderful creatures and act like it was no big deal! Dottore only scoffed in response.

"They are not my friends," the man clarified, as he continued walking ahead of you. "They began to approach my segments and I a while ago for some odd reason, and-" in the middle of that sentence, even more cawing resonated throughout the air and yet another crow swooped in, this time landing on his shoulder, "... wouldn't let up."

You had to say, he looked completely adorable like that, acting grumpy from the couple of crows that now surrounded him, even more had come to visit, playing in the snow by his feet. (Acting as if he didn't give them small pets when he was alone.)

If only you had your Kamera, this would be an excellent photo for your collection. Another crow had flown up to his arm and had come with a single Mora coin in its beak.

"Wow... they bring you gifts!" You watched in amazement as the bird placed the gold coin in Dottore's palm.

"Occasionally. Just shiny things of little value," he replied as he stroked the crow with a single finger that clicked happily in response.

Well, even after four hundred years, you still learn something new about your husband every day, huh... could you call him a crow whisperer? Though you were content watching the scene from the side, you did desire a bit of attention too.

"Come closer," Dottore beckoned you closer and you slowly inched your way to him, a bit afraid of driving the birds away. At least they seemed to trust you a tiny bit, considering how close you were with Dottore...? Maybe.

"Here," out of nowhere he had produced a small bag of unsalted nuts for you to feed them. He said they're not his friends and yet he bought food for them... yeah right... but you didn't comment.

Immediately, the crows' attention was on the delicacy you held in your hands. You didn't think they'd trust you enough to eat from your palm, so you placed them further in front of you. The birds cocked its head and cawed at one another before cautiously approaching the nuts you had offered to them. You wondered if they were discussing you.

"They don't like me as much as you..."

"Yet," Dottore corrected you. "It's only natural for them to be wary. They've just met you." That was definitely true, but you were also convinced Dottore had a special knack for this. Lucky him... you wanted to pet a crow too. Your disappointment was always obvious to your husband as he offered you a solution.

"We can come again tomorrow and visit them if that's what you wish." You instantly brightened and would have tackled him then and there were it not for the crows perched on him.

"Yes, please!"

—

By the time you got back, all the excitement had left you feeling tired and in need of rest, probably a nap. And even with some layers on, the cold still seeped into your body, making your muscles a bit stiff, but thankfully Dottore always made sure your room was well-heated. Still, you were feeling a bit too tired to start removing all of the clothes you had on. Though your husband was already on the case, his hands on your shoulders.

"You don't need to," you tried to convince him but Dottore rarely ever took 'no' for an answer.

"I want to," he stated firmly before peeling off your sweater and setting it to the side.

"Thanks," you murmured shyly as he removed the rest of your upper-body clothing, and then got to work pulling off the rest, leaving you nearly nude save for your underwear. You awkwardly played with your fingers, a bit too nervous to make eye contact with him as he shuffled about for a new change of clothes for you. But soon enough he was back with something warm.

Dottore kneeled down in front of you (the very act of that made you heat up a great amount) and patiently pulled up a pair of socks on you. You still focused your attention elsewhere - you could never seem to look at your husband properly when you were this exposed in front of him, so you would just wait until he fully clothed you again.

That was until he decided to lather your legs in kisses. You had almost not realized it until he began to graze you with his teeth, bringing the tiniest bit of pain to your pleasure, emitting a squeak from you.

"A-Ah! Hey, what are you..." you turned your head to squint at him, and the words went dry at the sight before you. There he was, kneeling before you as he cupped the heel of your feet while his face was nuzzled into your calf (in part to prevent you from kicking him accidentally, yes, you had done that before - poor, poor, Beta...)

"... Doing." Your words had come out with far less bite than you originally planned. Dottore was obviously aware of this considering the smirk on his face. The man only hummed in response, seemingly thinking of a good response when in reality he was just taking the opportunity to trace along your body some more. His languid yet heated touch made you feel like you were burning up with embarrassment.

"I'm going to get cold, so you best hurry up," you tried to sway him to rid yourself of his intent stare but of course, nothing ever worked with this man.

"Is that so?" Dottore questioned before suddenly yanking you so that your thighs were hanging off the bed some more, making you yelp. "Your body seems quite warm to me," he observed sinking his fingers into your thighs before placing another kiss in between them. The worst part was that he wasn't even wrong.

You let out a content sigh as he continued to nip and kiss your thighs and stroke the sensitive flesh, not bothering to fight it anymore as your hand had found its rightful place buried between his soft hair.

"So good for me, aren't you? Now just relax..." His words were somewhat of a drug that made your eyes flutter and your body melt. It was a bit embarrassing as to how easy he got you to agree, but at least it went both ways.

Dottore's hand then wandered up to your chest and pressed it against where your heart lay, feeling the beat of it against his palm, worshipping you like how the most faithful believer would worship their Archon - no, perhaps even more, the concept of divinity paled in comparison to you. Yes, the Gods left an unpleasant taste in his mouth, but you would do just perfectly.

And who were you to deny him that?

... Yeah, you could definitely get used to this treatment some more.

[starry-bi-sky]

MMMM twins au with danny and dan except its og TUE timeline danny and dan

ok okay i neeeeed o write this down and share it before i explode buT. as the title says. twins danny and dan (who im going to be calling James/Jamie bc i cannot express how much i despise the name dan) where, instead of disappearing into the ghost zone after he's separated from danny's body, Dan rips out Vlad's ghost half, tears THAT in half, and fuses one half with himself and the other with Danny.

Shit happens, and BOOM. Two morally ambiguous and perhaps slightly murderous demonic twins from hell. Daniel James Fenton and his Twin WHose Always Been Here What Are You Talking About :) James Daniel Fenton. They are both depressed, lonely, and one bad day from becoming a mass extinction event :)

this is because i got grabbed by the hair today and dragged into the SVSS fandom screaming and the fanart of Shen Jiu/Shen Yuan/Shen Quingqiu (????) with his fan entranced me. Ice Prince Core is my favorite thing so naturally i have to implant that onto my favorite blorbos ever :)

After the Incident, both their appearances changed and they're practically identical to each other. Sorta. They both have heterochromia and salt-and-pepper hair. But Danny has one green eye and one blue eye and white hair with black streaks, while Jamie has one blue eye and one green eye and black hair with white streaks. I'm iving them both long hair, for funsies <3

nobody can tell them apart, they keep getting confused on whose who and frankly the mix-match hair and eyes make it worse not better asjd. they're horrifically codependent. please do not separate :)

and because i must. im pulling a blood blossom/tales of the passerine and giving them to pre-robin batman. batman and his terrifying demon(??) twins. nobody is quite sure if they're human or not, and the scourge of gotham are a little too terrified to ask.

(they dont HAVE to go to batman while he's pre-robin. however. i think its much funnier that way bc gotham isn't use to A) Batman having kids, and B) Batman having TERRIFYING kids yet. think of all the new fun rumors)

they both use war fans while they're out, and neither of them use their ghost forms because they at least have the remaining empathy to know that they're more likely to murder someone accidentally as a ghost :). Ghost form is for fellow mythicals and Functionally Immortals Only! Not for Squishy Humans.

Jamie: murder. bloodshed. revengggee Bruce: no. no. Justice. peace!! hope! Danny: bittinngggg. blooood. ^-^

They're honestly not bad kids they're just horrifically traumatized two halves of a whole that can never be reunited ever again :).

idk what their vigilante names are but i do know that the underground refer to them in horrified whispers as 'the twins'. this all stemmed from the desperate and sudden urge to see Danny and Jamie, as their vigilante selves, hiding the lower half of their faces with fans and looking terrifyingly judgmental while they do it <333

[nartml]

Zukka is that ship that brings you only joy and fun and good and fuzzy vibes but you don't really want it to become canon because there's literally no need at all

[mukuberry]

How can you say things like "forcemasc is stupid because masculinity is seen as inherently good" and not realise that you know absolutely nothing about the transmasc experience. Do you hear yourselves

[freaky-flawless]

Do you guys think we'll ever get another boy doll? Idk why, but it feels really unlikely to me.

At the start, Deuce got 3 dolls pretty much right off the bat, and then hasn't had another one since. (Honestly, I'm a little worried he might be getting the Ghoulia treatment, especially since neither got music videos and were exclusives)

And other than him, we just have a Clawd doll with a bad face, and Heath, who was apart of a budget line. He didn't even get a normal doll release with a phone, snacks, or even a pet.

[bloodfreak-boyking]

just make out already

[pseudophan]

i'm so extremely irrationally annoyed by people not knowing what various terms mean and using them incorrectly like i feel like that's such an asshole thing to care about but oh my god stop

[petricorah]

Zuko… Sokka… make them smooch

as you wish

[ID: a drawing of Sokka and Zuko from Avatar: the Last Airbender kissing softly in the rain. Sokka is gently touching the right side of Zuko’s face, and both of their eyes are closed. Wind sways Sokka’s wolf’s tail, and both of their hair is wet from the rain. /End ID.]

[sailing-ever-west]

tooth-rotting one piece comic because I've been rotaring the idea in my head for at least a week

[assmaster-8000]

𝑪𝒍𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒐 ✧

✧ Regret

✧ Rememberance

✧ Reunion

✧

All men are equal in death. To Clotho, such is their reigning tenet.

And to Clotho, a man like them sheds no tear for the departed. A necromancer need not fear death, for it is a cycle devouring upon itself, and they are the ringmaster of this primal instinct. As in— need, should, must. One must not fear, one must not ache or pine or rage. A snake is still a snake. Death is still a wild animal. Show your soft palm within the ribcage of your fist, and it will not yield to you. Clotho, for all their cool expertise, knows this through trial and error.

All men are equal in death. So this mantra becomes their epitaph for every sentiment buried under the grave of their tongue.

It's a corpse beneath the floorboards; this memory. The tremble in their fingers - the shortness of breath. Their prized coherence pooling out their ears like brains on a sidewalk. Black is all they've known the world to be, but this time it is blue. Saliva spilling past the shore of her lips. Piercing red lightning streaking through the sky of her eyes. She does not respond when they shake her. By God— what have you done?

All men are equal. Their mother was no man, no monster. Mother, simple and sweet, was cruel enough to damn her. As they were.

Their tears come soft on the linen of her robes. She is softer still. The used crowd of spellbooks and artifacts and alchemical instruments behind them laugh hollow at the display. Wire is taut, so is cloth. Neither will hold them now, after destroying the muscle that stretched to cradle their wretched self. So they bind her in her day shroud. And they bury her in the belly of the primordial Mother.

On her grave, they plant a singular Asphodel. Their one specimen.

And when they shakily kneel back to look down at the mount of soil, for a moment - just a moment, their nails slip back beneath the dirt. Back to where home was.

A moment was all it took. Soon as it comes, they rip it out her shabby resting grounds and lay it on their crown. That brain-shaped gilded mausoleum of theirs. So it has remained all this while - so has she, with that memory just as equal as a dead man.

But you know they never stay where they're supposed to for long.

In the land of the dead, asphodels are for the gray in between. They are the sustenance of the dead. They are my regrets, following you to the grave. O, Mother. You raised a walking corpse. As long as I hold you in my heart, the grave goes where I go; and dead men tell no tales, so... I love you. Isn't that the worst thing you've ever heard?

[pinep-ne]

Physically cannot stop thinking about your stuff <3, would love to see something with charthur hair care/braiding cause I know for a fact that Arthur is mesmerized by Charles’s hair

I wanted this to be cute but I had Adrianne Lenker playing the entire time I wrote it so... have something very flowery and sentimental instead... (Arthur gawking at Charles but poetically)

(i have this fic and more posted on ao3!)

----------

Arthur knows he can watch now.

They've camped near the chilled river nestled somewhere in the yawning valleys of the Grizzlies East. A gaping cove, holding their quiet love between two staggering hands, like the space between palms held for prayer. It shields their contentment from this world, their dance. Just so that Arthur knows without a word spoken that his gaze is welcome to fall anywhere.

Watching Charles bathe himself in any body of water is not a new experience for him. But watching Charles in general is no less arresting. He is fond of everything Charles is. He finds he can keep himself out of that narrative, selfish as it is, to rid the need of reciprocation he still cannot understand. Take what he desires and shut himself from accepting that very affection.

Watching never hurt anyone.

He wonders if Charles entertains it, even. The ease of his stature, of his presence. Some embodiment of something humble and grand that Arthur can't ever seem to pinpoint. Or neither. There is always something to admire. Whether showered in blood and anger and gun smoke or slack-faced and drooling on their shared pillow the few violet minutes before dawn.

It may be now, that Arthur could admire the rippling water around Charles' lower abdomen, or the soft flesh of it. The corded muscles of his back, shifting like divine machinery in every movement. The portrait of his face, aglow in the glaring limbo between afternoon and evening, blurred like velvet when the sun hits Arthur's eyes. It's an image he often indulges in, but not the one he has set aside for different worship.

Arthur is rightfully captivated by Charles' hair.

He stopped midway through undressing to simply watch the process. The care with which Charles washes it. The length it reaches when saturated and weighted with water. Pooling like a fountain of ink when the river reaches his neck. Snaking around like silken ribbons when he sinks beneath the water's surface. When they wake tangled in the morning, and he is veiled by the feathery strands. When they are close to one another, as intimate as Arthur's currently pursuing gaze, and he may find with his fingers where it meets the scalp. Burying himself there, clinging and carding through the strands, soft like nothing he's ever thought to seek nor hunger for.

Charles doesn't have to look back at Arthur.

"You're staring," he says.

It's hardly audible by the distance they are from each other. The timbre whispering against Arthur's senses, resonating only warmth. He decides enough is enough, and finishes peeling his muddied clothes off himself. Eyes averted down at the accusation, he joins Charles at the river.

The water could be warmer but he doesn't pay mind to it. He wades till his heels barely scrape the muddy sand and he must balance himself with his arms out in the current. Charles watches him, soap bar in hand. With a smile, he holds it out for Arthur to take, and kisses him firm. It leaves Arthur's chin wet.

Arthur takes it. Charles sinks down, nearly floating on his back, crown to Arthur's middle, looking up at him with the same brightness. Arthur looks down with plain reverence.

He hadn't thought it possible, to shrink himself in the narrow space of his heart that allows this sort of tenderness. To even relish in it without shame or reluctance. He lathers the hair above his hand, taking each section with undivided concentration. He watches Charles' features all the while, placid and quiet. Only sparing a few peeks at Arthur, relaxed and focused as he is, for the late sun that hits his eyes when he does. It is best to close them. Arthur thinks he might do the same, and they may both fall asleep to be taken with the current. He smiles at the thought.

Each time he feels he's become accustomed to the rhythm of their affection, it becomes apparent under the assumption of scrutiny. It is easier, more so on their lonesome trek, but still persistently resurfacing in dreadful bouts. They will bounce back like the collision of two universes. Arthur cannot handle the quiet. Charles can't handle the certainty. It's too true for either of them, and something they are both terribly inexperienced with.

But in this moment, like many others, it is the easiest thing to be true. Arthur works the soap in, infused with oils and herbs he's forgotten the name of. He thinks of all the times he's wished for something like this and thanks the world for letting him have it, small as it is.

When he's scrubbed most of the soap out, and the sun has hit below the jutting valley, Charles looks back up at Arthur.

He hums contentedly, beaming. A gesture which suffices as a thank you upon the surface. I love you woven beneath it. Dunks himself once more into the water, and leaves Arthur to bathe himself before the evening chill hits for good.

When they are both settled for the night, nestled against each other before the fire, Charles asks him to braid it.

"I ain't very deft," Arthur says.

Charles' voice fills every inch of him. "I want you to," he responds.

Arthur often returns to the knowledge that Charles' want is a force he's found only a certain devotion in. So Arthur sits behind him, all but wrapping himself, and tries his best to apply what he can remember. There are layers and a handful of errant curls all around, but the process is consoling and steady.

When he's finished, they meet eyes again. The braid leaves a thin, downy curtain in the front of Charles' face. Arthur watches the cascade framing his features, unmoving but dynamic, like strikes of graphite on paper. Charles feels for the braid with his hand, whispers his gratitude, and kisses Arthur again. It speaks everything needed to be said for the night.

[starry-bi-sky]

'Late At Night, When The Nightingale Sings' doodles, because Pathetic Wet Cat Danny is the best Danny to practice drawing young faces with (and expressions).

[marmarydoods]

My doodles from aggie drawing session with @synvelesow :33 and an extra