#thats all! gn

[cardboardfeet]

[skeletonlover69]

what did you think they were doing (•ิ_•ิ)

[stevebabey]

hi rubes!!! i was curious on ur thoughts on what a lazy sunday with steve would look like? esp if its one that like both ur day off and its smth that hasnt happened in a long time

hi angel!! sorry i sat on this one for awhile, i hope i made up for it by making it sooooo lovey dovey <3 0.8k, gn!reader

By some miracle, you're the first awake.

Steve is like a kind of sheep dog— he requires frequent exercise and so, he usually slips a run in the morning before you're even close to awake.

And also because of the shaggy hair and the way he seems to wag an invisible tail when all his favourite people are gathered in the same room, even going around and rounding them up, checking on everyone— Okay, you get the point, analogy over.

Actually, point is, you getting up before Steve like never happens.

Scratch that, you and Steve getting a day off to sleep in on the same day never happens. And even more, Steve very rarely skips his morning run because, y'know, sheep dog and all.

Basically, you figure this whole morning is a wondrous crafted little miracle. You have no plans to waste it.

Peering across your pillow, you watch the rise and fall of Steve's chest as he sleeps, your softened gaze roaming over his face gently. He looks younger in his sleep, pillowy lips parted lightly. His moles beg to be kissed. His hair is a mess. It's lost all its volume, lying flat against the pillow and urging you to run your fingers through it.

You ignore the urge in favor of slipping out from under the comforter. quiet as you can.

Steve's annoyingly good at spoiling you and is less than receptive to letting you return the sentiment. With one last glance back at bed, you let out a soft sigh, a honeyed noise, and head to the kitchen.

Steve's favourite mug is this wonky one that Dustin made once upon a time, some pottery class at one of his camps. You stare at it, glazed eyes taking in an alarmingly amount of detail on the cup, as the coffee brews behind you. Its scent wafts through the room. You've woken a dozen times to it, when it's Steve up and about, fixing a beverage for you.

It's cute, you think, that he still uses Dustin's mug for his coffee. By cute you mean, you can't think about it for too long or you'll stamp back down to the bedroom and kiss your boyfriend til your lips are blue and—

"Ooh, coffee?" Steve announces his presence with his words, partially garbled by his loud yawn. He halfheartedly covers his mouth, the hoodie he's haphazardly chucked on misaligned enough that it hangs over his hand adorably. He shuffles into the kitchen tiredly and despite his introduction, he heads right to you.

You can't resist a pout. Steve takes a moment to notice it, too happily distracted sidling up and worming his arms around your middle.

When he does, he tilts his head to the side. "What?"

"You couldn't let me bring it to you in bed?"

He grins. "I'm sorry. Was that the plan?"

"You know it was." You mumble grouchily, not upset at all. You push a hand into his chest, giving him a little shove. "You're always doin' this stuff for me but you don't ever let me do it for you."

Steve softens unbearably, his grin getting all gooey at the sides. He looks a little lovestruck, messy hair and all. It takes immense will to continue your upset facade. You nudge his chest again, your head inclining towards the bedroom.

"What?" His eyebrows jump, expression a mixture of incredulity and affectionate. "Y'want me to get back in bed? So you can come bring it to me?"

You smile, nudging his chest again and grinning when he starts to take a couple steps back, heading towards the bedroom. "Yes. Exactly that."

"You're absurd."

You poke your tongue out him. "You love it."

Steve moves forward abruptly, his hands cradling your face gently as he leans and steals a kiss from you. He retracts just as fast, looking far too pleased with himself.

"Yes, I do," He agrees, still wandering backwards. He disappears into your bedroom and you're left standing there with your own lovesick grin. God, you love him. Your heart feels like spun sugar in your chest, airy and sweet beyond relief.

To which Steve is no help at all when you walk into the bedroom, carefully holding the mug so it doesn’t spill. He's tucked back in bed, pretending to be asleep, only to wake with the grace of a Disney princess at your footsteps.

He faux yawns and pretends to jump at your presence, scampering to sit up in bed so he can accept the coffee from you. "Oh wow, what a surprise this is!"

"Shut up. You think you're soo funny, huh?" you mumble, handing the coffee over. Your aching smile gives away just how funny you think he is.

"Mmhm," Steve hums as he takes a sip. You've made it just the way he likes it. He parrots your earlier words. "You love it."

You lean in, mindful of the mug, and kiss him sweetly. He tastes of coffee and cream and he chases your lips for a second kiss when you pull back. You aim for tiredly amused but the words come out devastatingly sincere anyway. "Yeah, I do."

[kiwisandpearls]

I’m sure this point has already been made to death, but I think a major reason as to why more…darker “x reader” fics are so prevalent and popular in certain spaces is because simply put… “x reader” fics, and by extension fanfiction and just general fiction, are probably one of the more healthy and safer ways for many irl readers and writers to navigate through their fantasies and/or traumas. Many of us recognize that our fantasies would be harmful to do irl, so we project it (?) through fiction.

[roronoa-roro]

ꜱɪʟʟʏ ʜᴜꜱʙᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴄᴇɴᴀʀɪᴏꜱ (ᴛꜱᴜᴋɪꜱʜɪᴍᴀ ᴋᴇɪ)

Haikyuu m.list

"Babe! Baaabeeee!!!"

Oh no.

That's what echoes in Tsukishima Kei's head as he recognises that tone of yours. Being married for so many years now, Tsukki knows you like the back of his hand now.

And if his years of experience are right, you're bored. And you have found something to rid you of that boredom. At his cost.

He isn't wrong as you come bounding to the kitchen, phone in your hand presumably already recording him.

"Kei! Riddle me this!" You announce as you burst in. "If a quiz is quizzical, then what is a test?"

"Testica—" he stops abruptly as it strikes him. Face deadpan, he looks straight at you, "Really?"

You cackle like the devil. This was too funny.

The tall man walks away, huffing, and you follow him like a puppy. "Kei, Kei, Keiii! Another one another one!"

"No."

"Please"

"Not a chance."

"i swear you will like this one." You promise, following him into the bedroom.

He sighs, slumping on the bed, "And if it's shit, I'm taking you down."

You giggle, not taking him seriously at all. "Okay. So when three people sleep together, it's called a threesome. When four people sleep together, it's called a foursome. Right?"

He nods.

"So now do you understand why people call you handsome?" You are snorting with laughter even as you finish the sentence.

He blinks for a second before it dawns on him.

You can't stop laughing at the dumbfounded expression of his. And cherry to the pie is that it's all recorded on your phone. But your laughter is cut short as he pulls you roughly into the bed.

"Shut up. Delete that video or I'll show you just why they call me handsome."

[noxious-fennec]

Happy (re)birthday to the most guy ever! I come bearing a humble gift :)

[dreemurr-skelememer]

since when did i say i was an anti 😭

i dont like shipcourse but damn if you think im an anti LMAO

[pup-pee]

no1s mad i drew more konbart right?

last drawing is nirvana au // also i gave up on the 1st drawing mayb? i might return 2 it

[42-forty-two-42]

tosses the hoon man plushie at 42

WOE, PLAGUE BE UPON YE 🔥 🔥🔥

the skrunkly

4̘̉2͉͙̮͘.̞̿.̝̐.̙̘̬̈́4̘͔͂2̥͇͓̄͒͗ ̲̓̊͊4̟͆̌2̈́͒͌ͅ ̘͒͛̚4͍̈́͗2̧̍̋ ̮̽́̌4̡̅2͚̺͒ ̱͈̆͒̅4̬̹̾̄2͔̹͛͜ ̼̆͜4̛̠͇̱2̛̠͎ ̢̏̊͠4͔̯͔̈́̾̇2̗̀?̩̩͎͋

( Well...what do I do with it now? )

[mirpkechi]

hey chat. did you know that i love my mutuals 😈😈

[b-yyearns]

just desperately want me a bf i can kiss n cuddle into (with his arms around me) while falling asleep

[citrinesparkles]

cold hands

jason todd x gender neutral reader. 789 words. notes: i started this in december i swear it was seasonally appropriate at the time warnings: n/a

he scooped your hands into his own, cupping them together and bringing them to his face smoothly.

he caught your eye with a small smirk. you knew him well enough to know he wasn't really smug- he was looking for your reaction, a silent is this okay wrapped up in his confident expression. the large, colorful lights strung across the shop front you had stopped in front of were reflected in his eyes, but he was focused entirely on you.

you slipped your thumb out of his hold and ran it over his own.

jason took it for the invitation it was and exhaled heavily over your frigid fingers, looking down to them.

you, though? you kept your gaze right where it was.

he was beautiful, you thought. a strong jaw and handful of faded scars were contrasted by the softness of his eyes, his red (garnet, you remembered him saying with a little self-aware grin, not red- that was a work color, and you weren't work) knit hat bringing out the green in them. he was bathed in an orangey-pink from the décor behind you, and you almost wanted to pull a hand back to take a picture.

almost.

"i'm buying you some damn gloves," he muttered without heat, laughter buried in his tone as he gently massaged your fingers.

"and put my personal hand warmer out of a job?"

"he's creative. he'll find another one."

you let out a small huff of laughter, the sound turning to fog between the two of you. you pulled your hands out of his grasp- earning a raised eyebrow- and pushed forward to take hold of the front of his jacket, gently pulling him into kissing range.

as always, he adapted almost instantly. "see?" he asked quietly, his palms finding your hips. "a new job opened up pretty quick."

"shut up," you mumbled fondly, pressing your lips to his.

the warmth in your chest absolutely erupted, the sweet, familiar feeling of his lips- of his presence- making your heart and mind go the same sugar-sweet shade of pink.

"i love you," you pulled back to whisper firmly, grip tightening on his jacket just to give some of the oomph in your veins somewhere to go.

you felt his chuckle under your fists and against your lips, like the bassline of your favorite song with the dial all the way up, rattling through the floor and into your ribs and threatening to turn you giddy. "i think that means i'm doing alright at my new job."

"you're doing wonderfully at your new job."

not much would be worth opening your eyes from such a spell, but you found that his smile made the list: crooked and fond and beautiful and somehow it was aimed at you.

"think i can clock in for another shift?" he asked lowly, playfully, sending another wave of butterflies through your system. they left quickly, replaced by a feeling of belonging, of home, of peace.

"yes," you answered simply, trying (and failing, judging by his little laugh) to keep your eagerness under control. "you should."

so he kissed you again, holding you close. sheltering you from the chill of gotham in the dead of winter. reflecting warm lights onto you and chasing shadows away. turning every beautiful, poetic thought you'd ever had about him into something literal and visible and tangible and not having a single clue.

--

so he kissed you again, basking in the affection in your eyes and letting it warm him straight to his bones. begging his mind to save the image of you bathed in orange and pink and magic, looking at him like he was even close to that kind of beautiful, tugging him towards you like there was nowhere else on the planet you'd rather he be.

and he tried to hold you as softly as you deserved, bringing a hand up to cup your jaw and tilt your head slightly and cherishing the way you immediately, confidently leaned into his touch like you trusted him to keep you upright.

it felt like someone cracked a glowstick where his heart should be.

no- that was too vivid, too harsh. this was like a candle, warm and steady and breathing and alive. this was something to look to in the dim and the dreary, something by which he could read; something to warm his hands over, something to turn to when the storms rolled through and the power failed and left him in the dark.

you were something to turn to in the dark.

he decided, then and there, pressed against your coat and your lips and your warmth, that you were getting the nicest gloves he could get his hands on.

[skunkes]

i dont like when character being blunt/having no filter = character just being Mean, and im trying to find a good balance with that for Talon. I guess it's not that hard since he's not an (active) overthinker and I have drawn him saying things he considers neutral that seem rude to others...I guess I have to find a way to show the opposite, too

[ping-ski]

IDGAF that ur a canon purist!! that's not the problem!! i care more ab the people having fun + being cringe and free!! my problem is that you keep shitting on their harmless takes!! fanon and canon are both cool!!

everyone's got different interpretations of characters!! besides, no one can ever be truly faithful to the canon!! when all ur takes that are "respecting the canon" character's traits are over exaggerated anyway!!

besides, everyone's takes/fics are technically ooc!! we are at the mercy of their creators/authors cause they have final say!! (pray for us all.)

alr RANT OVER!! i just dont think we should police others on interpretations that may or may not be "accurate/canon"?? its a silly discussion cuz no one is obligated to limit themselves like that

i just hope what i said made sense cuz its 2am and im so tired

[metanarrates]

you got that genre and gender essay for us 👀

i might talk about gender in the hunger games a different time but right now im ready to talk about genre in it (FINALLY. sorry gamers ive been in the sludge for a while)

so one of the things that really struck me about the hunger games while reading is that it did not function strictly as an action genre story during the games themselves. the genre it actually seemed to be dipping into a lot of the time is wilderness survival. this is weird, for a couple of reasons.

for anyone unfamiliar with the wilderness survival genre, the underlying conflict tends to be rather slow-movingly paced. this isn't always the case - some wilderness survival stories do have limitations that force the plot to speed up - but in the vast majority of works I've seen, the main force the main character is working against is the slow-moving course of nature. there is a lot of time spent hunting, crafting, building shelters, tending to injuries. occasionally there are bursts of action, but the story is much more concerned with the daily work of solving more longterm survival problems than it is with more temporary threats. it's typically a story about endurance rather than urgency.

now, I like the genre just fine. I would even say suzanne collins does it decently well. the problem is that it doesn't actually suit the premise of the hunger games.

the hunger games is, on premise, a death game. for at least the first two books, the main setpiece of the story is the promise of the arena. it is a televised match where children have to kill each other for the entertainment of a crowd. this isn't a crazy uncommon subgenre or even main genre for action stories - there's a lot of story potential in forcing combatants to battle to the death against their will. my favorite novel, omniscient reader's viewpoint, has death game elements. when done well, it is tense, exciting, and asks questions about the culpability of both viewer and participants. oftentimes, the story's major theme is forcing the audience think about the way they may treat violence as spectacle. this is certainly something the hunger games also wants to do.

this premise carries a lot of intrinsic tensions. in a story where people are hunting one another in order to survive, the protagonist almost always is under threat, or nearly under threat, of being attacked. the tension of potentially having to kill adds another layer of tension. the demands of audience, in a story about violence as spectacle, serves to add another layer. the protagonist always has to look over their shoulder, to make sure that their audience can't hurt them if they become dissatisfied with the protagonist, and to be sure that they can fend off attackers at any given moment. to do otherwise, at least without justifying it, would be to undermine the logical stakes the premise introduces.

the end result, when done well, is a fast-paced action story with consistently heightened tension. you'll notice that this doesn't blend well with a slow-paced genre with a consistently low but omnipresent baseline tension.

through both games, again to collins' credit, there are a lot of high-tension action sequences. katniss does spend a good deal of time fighting, running, tensely hiding out, and dealing with high-octane environmental factors. however, I was consistently a little disappointed by how quickly a lot of these sequences ended. more importantly, I was confused by how often it would lead back into katniss skirting around the woods. she spends a ton of time fishing, hunting, chatting with allied tributes, scouting, and waiting around in a cave for peetas injuries to heal. the threat of the other tributes finding and killing her slips into the background. the audience in the capitol only matters occasionally. the minuitiae of surviving in a wilderness takes up major screentime. the threats intrinsic to the actiony premise stop being an immediate concern.

this inability to follow through on the established stakes totally kills my suspension of disbelief in the gamemakers as threats. very few people would be actually interested in continuously watching days-long, unedited livestreams of teenagers hunting and fishing and occasionally kissing. it doesn't make sense as a story about entertainment, because the events on screen would simply not be logically all that entertaining. the only reason the gamemakers don't act to force katniss towards more action is that collins plainly does not seem as interested in writing action. and that's really the root of the first two books' weird genre problem.

since collins seems to want to focus on wilderness survival rather than action, neither genre can properly shine. as a reader, i'm always feeling antsy whenever katniss takes a break to nap for a day, and I'm always frustrated whenever an an action scene is cut short instead of staying excitingly tense. the action stakes never feel believable to me because it seems like they only exist when the plot remembers they should. the survival stakes just feel like a tiresome chore in a story that should have much more urgent concerns. it's just a really weird choice. why write a death game story if you're often disinterested in the stuff the premise demands?

I also don't think that the rebellion/war story is done well in book 3, for similar pacing and tension issues (that book DRAGS in ways that actively undermine what it seems to be trying to do.) but this little essay has run on long enough. this has been a really longwinded way of saying "these books struggle a lot with tension and pacing and it makes them feel weird in how they play to their supposed premises," but I did want to approach it from a genre angle because that's what I was thinking about while reading. what is genre, after all, but a shorthand to communicate expected aspects of setting, focus, mechanical structure of a story?

[butchlifeguard]

ultimate winners real ⁉️

[ID: a small pencil sketch of mondo owada and aoi asahina from danganronpa. they are drawn mostly accurate to canon. mondo rests his arm on hina's shoulders and does a peace sign. she has one arm on his back and the other on her hip. mondo says "i'm attention defecit" and hina says "and i'm hyperactivity disorder." the caption below them is "the ADHD brothers." end ID.]