#or whatever the thing about fanfiction was

[animentality]

I know x reader fans have always existed, and I don't generally mind them.

however I feel like the way they've overtaken fandom analysis/ shipping culture is an indication of the general decline of fandom communities.

they are normies, guys. I'm sorry.

it's not a slur, it's just a fact.

normies infiltrated fandom spaces because of covid.

they come in and just want to thirst after a particular character... and that's like. fine. of course it's fine it's always happened.

but they don't seem to actually care about the character being in character. nor does it really require any analysis of that character's motivations or story, or their relationship with others.

I know not everything HAS to relate to canon. like duh, we are here to make our own canon.

but come the fuck on. I go into a tag and it has a character tagged being some dommy daddy when that character is nothing like that in canon... and there's this line between making a character act a certain way bc that's your fetish, and completely ignoring who that character is entirely to the point where you could just replace their name with anyone else in any other show, and it wouldn't make a difference?

like that's... normie shit. it's people who do not think deeply or passionately about that media, it's just them having this surface level grasp of the physical attractiveness of the character.

and again. I'm not saying these people are stupid or whatever, just that the overabundance of this watered down ass content is an indicator of how much fandom has changed.

fans are not the socially awkward introverted queer voyeurs anymore, who enjoy fantasies and daydreaming about being someone else because of this disconnect with the self, or this fear of others that leads you to seek human connection in fiction.

they're the people who do just fine with other people ... and I'm not gatekeeping fandom from people who aren't socially awkward or anything.

but they come here, and they do shit like say you can't like this ship bc it's morally wrong .. you're not allowed to thirst after an 18 year old that makes you a pedophile... I'm 15 and I'm allowed to lust for Gojo but you a 25 year old woman, aren't allowed to write itafushi fanfiction.

go back to taxes and your job!!!

like that drives me fucking insane. these people want to insist they're not normies but they then go around insisting that being over 20 means you need to Work and Be a Normal Adult... bitch.

adults make fandoms. not you fucking children. you don't know how to build communities, you barely know how to make friends.

attacking people who like the same thing you do? is that what you think community building is?

oh this poor generation. anyway.

they come here and are disgusted by weird fetishes and obsessions. and by people sharing sexual headcanons or ideas about sexuality that make them uncomfortable because they've never ever been counter culture, they've never felt the need to go against the status quo.

they're cis straight girls/women mostly, whose mothers basically fuel the ya spicy romance booktok industry.

they're just younger and think it's trendier to be "in a fandom" than a fucking book club.

they're modern day bodice ripper fans... which again

would be so fucking fine, if they weren't doing the youth version of karening the fuck out.

and flooding the fandom with both hyper criticism of how you conduct your business AND an aggressive market for just imagining yourself with a character.

like fandom was originally just hyper passionate freaks.

they discussed movies and TV shows like life and death. they were fucking nuts but in the way where they needed to seek one another out, to share in this joyous sensation of being a freak obsessed with something beyond the point of reason.

now?

now it's like ... oh.

Sally from Bio thinks your love of Gaara is super creepy when you're 19. like what, are you a pedophile? why are you imagining him getting married to Naruto? are you a fucking pedophile who gets off to teens making out? they need to check your hard drive!!

like ok Sally.

ok.

I just think x reader is such a strong indicator of what kind of fan you are.

and if a fandom is mostly x reader... then it can't be that popular. it can't be a proper community.

how can it be?

it's as watered down and generic and bland as a marvel movie. it's stripped down of anything unique. it is pruned of controversy and humanity.

you are literally stripping yourself down into a non character.

you're not truly projecting yourself into a character, because the you that you read about is nothing. a placeholder. you are a passive observing robot who exists only in the form of a faceless and personality less entity.

and I don't get it.

what's the point then?

isn't fiction about realizing something about yourself or others

if your only manner of engaging is stripping yourself of personality... is it engagement at all?

or is it just more mindless consumption?

just watch law and order, man.

watch the good doctor or some shit on lifetime.

there's shows with passionate fanbases who theory craft and endlessly obsess with relationships and world building, and then there's shows with x reader only content and you know exactly why now.

[olderthannetfic]

Ever since JKR terfed out, I've seen a lot of people talking about alternatives to Harry Potter. And i respect it, because I do think most of those people have good intentions, not to mention there are obviously people out there who are genuinely uncomfortable with the series and can't divorce the art from the artist.

But idk...for a lot of people, they like Harry Potter because it's Harry Potter. While some might find comfort in picking up a different "magic boarding school", "chosen one", "found family", "kids as the heroes", etc story, or whatever it is that someone might enjoy about HP...for some people it goes beyond just tropes or settings or character dynamics and they just like HP. They like Hogwarts, they like Harry and his classmates and teachers, they like to read about the creatures in the specific way they exist in the Hp universe, they like to read about Quidditch, they like things and characters that are only a thing within the Wizarding World and the "read another book" thing just doesn't work. (The "read another book" MEME though, however, can be pretty funny depending on the context though, ngl.)

Anyway, like, I get it, I really do, I have a lot of sympathy for those who want to separate themselves from HP forever. I don't think they're all virtue signallers/performative activists/whatever else you might say. it's one thing to call HP irreedemable media and how you should DNI if you still like it, it's completely different to be like, "hey here's another magick school story that might fill the void for those who genuinely want to cut all JKR out due to their own comfort"!

But regardless of you twist it, there will always be people who just...still enjoy HP. And I'll admit I do sideeye those who *knowingly, being aware of her politics* monetarily support her who wrote the books, but I don't think that having your House in your bio, or writing/reading fanfiction, or buying unofficial merch, or using the HP things you've already bought...I don't think any of that is bad by default. It's wild to me that some people think that those are all inherently red flags. And for some people, letting go of a franchise entirely is really hard, especially for most of the demographic of the HP fandom that I know, those who grew up with it as a part of their childhood and as SUCH an iconic pop culture thing. I'm not gonna read some new up and coming series if you just market it to me as "best friends at a wizarding school, but with more diversity than HP!" You know where else I can find that? HP fanfiction.

--

[alexrosa13]

Valentine's Favourites

Xavier x female!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: 2,1k word, allusions to intercourse/suggestive topics

Note: fanfiction for my Valentine's Event

for masterlist and request info head to the navigation →

← how Jeremiah is doing ★ continuation of the evening →

~★~

Xavier was preparing for that day for weeks if not months. Finding a perfect spot, making sure that you'll be free from work, writing down the things he'll need to get; food, a gift, flowers...

You couldn't catch a glimpse of Xavier since the morning, when he left your apartment after staying the night, saying that he had some 'things' to take care of and he'll see you later.

You tried messaging him, but the only thing you got back in response was 'I'll see you later' or 'please be patient sweetheart'. You knew he was planning something, but you had little to absolutely no idea what that could be.

Was he planning something? A date perhaps? Maybe a gift? Did he do something stupid and needed to fix it without your knowledge? What was he doing?!

The thoughts were eating you up, but you knew better than to stress yourself out with his secrecy. After all: it was Xavier out of all people, he was full of mystery. You just hoped that he'll be safe.

Your day went by with you doing basic chores and being lazy, since you didn't have anything planned or today. You still had the prince of your heart in the back of your head, was he doing alright?

Deciding to try once more to get some information from him you picked up your phone, entering chat with him.

'Hey, you doing okay there?'

You turned off your phone about to put it back down and focus on the TV, but the moment the screen went blank you heard the sound of notification and in a second you turned it back on.

'get ready, I'll meet u in half an hour, dress comfy'

Instantly you shoot up from your seat, going to change your clothes still staring at the message from him.

Half an hour? Alright, but dress comfy to go where? Comfy as 'home-kind-comfy' or 'we're going somewhere when you don't need to dress up' or 'dress whatever you feel like, you'll still be pretty'?

Why were you overthinking this?!

It's probably just a simple date, right? So you want to look pretty without looking like you tried hard to look pretty.

HOLY YOU HAVE ONLY 30 MINUTES!

Instantly you started looking through your clothes, what is comfy but looks pretty and not like your home clothes? Let's try to look cute in half an hour, sure.

After looking through all of your clothes, with half of your wardrobe now on your bed, you were finally somehow satisfied with the results. Lucky you; did your make-up earlier out of boredom...

You were fixing your hair a little bit when the doorbell sound rang. Instantly you run towards the door, screaming 'a moment' on your way, and stumbling around your apartment at least twice.

Finally you made it to the front door, unlocking and opening them without checking the peephole first. There he stood, perfect like always, with a slight gentle smile on his lips that you returned instantly.

"Hello beautiful." his arms opened, inviting you for a hug and without wasting a second you found yourself in his embrace.

"Hi handsome." you giggled, giving his cheek a peek before breaking the hug.

"Get some shoes on, we're going out." you turned around to follow his instructions, bending over and unintentionally gracing him with the sight of your perfect ass.

He bit his tongue, memories of last night started floating around in his head, but the moment you stood up, ready to go with an innocent smile on your lips, all the improper thoughts left, his mind instead focusing on the present you.

"I'm ready." your high shoes clicked with every step you took while leaving your apartment. Hopefully he won't make you walk around too much...

Without words he took your hand, leading you to the elevator.

During the wait you hugged him close in the tight space, only with you two in it. He let you rest your head on his chest, in his head hoping for the evening to go perfect, his earlier exchange of words with Jeremiah replaying in his head.

"She'll be delighted. Trust me."

"It's just... Maybe she deserves someone better than me to spend her life with."

"Are you kidding me? For someone this smart you're really oblivious sometimes, aren't you?"

Xavier looked at him with a threatening glance, but Jeremiah was completely unbothered by it, still focusing on placing the stuff in the right places.

"She's crazy for you, last time you two came to Philo she was staring at you the whole time, like you were the only thing in the room, no actually, like you were the only thing in the world. Don't doubt yourself so much, my Prince." finally sparing a glance at Xavier he only smiled teasingly. He enjoyed seeing the always calculated and collected person being stressed over his love life.

"Xavier? We can get out now..." your voice broke him from his thoughts, the doors of the elevator were open.

"Yes, sorry." he walked out with you, hands still joined together.

You were walking the streets of Linkon, light conversion about work and life making the time pass faster. You didn't think about your destination, trusting him even if that would mean walking to the stars and back. You would follow him everywhere.

The sun was slowly setting, the warm light making Xavier look more eternal than ever, you couldn't help but admire him from the side, not noticing that he stopped and looked at you too.

"We're here." you woke up from the daze, your head instantly turned and you saw the edge of the forest before you.

"We're going there?" he nodded your head at your question. You looked down at your shoes, you were not prepared for that... "Alright." you braced yourself to try and avoid spraining your ankle. But then you got swept off your feet - literally "Xavier!"

"What?" he asked, acting clueless. He started walking with you in his arms, carrying you like a princess.

"I can walk!" your voice raised in shock.

"I know." was his only answer, not even looking at you, focused on the path ahead.

Knowing that there's no arguing with him you decided to get comfortable in his hold and admire him.

Damn he looked so hot all focused and calm, and all yours. You closed your eyes, your head falling to rest on his shoulder with your arms hugging his neck. You could fall asleep like this, but before your consciousness left for good he spoke once again.

"We arrived." you heard his soft voice right above your ear. Your eyes slowly opened, reviling the beautifully prepared 'tent' from some kind of see-through fabric, with lots of lights everywhere and a blanket(s) inside accompanied by various pillows.

You looked at him, he was carefully studying your reaction.

"You prepared this?" you smiled already knowing the answer. He nodded his head slowly.

"With a little help." gently he put you down onto the blankets. You took in the details of his preparations.

There was a small table beside you, you saw there was a small board with the photos you took together adoring it, beside it lying were snacks and a tiny box, wrapped up like a present. You looked around a little more, imagining how much time he spent here, preparing all of this for you.

"It's really pretty." your gaze returned to the owner of your heart, he sat down beside you, his eyes not leaving your figure for a single moment "Thank you Xavier." you took his hand into yours, squeezing it lightly.

"It's really nothing that impressive." instantly you made the 'zip it' move with your fingers. He smiled and chuckled quietly.

"It's beautiful here, and I know that it took you a lot of thought and time to prepare this, I'm so thankful to have you in my life." you sealed your words with a kiss to his lips, what was supposed to be a quick and sweet peek turned into a make out session the moment his hand flew to the back of your head.

You didn't complain of course. Eventually he pulled away, still caressing your hair gently, with one hand he reached for something behind you, a second later you saw a bouquet made out of what looked like a hundred little flowers, resembling a thousand stars shining in the night sky.

Your smile softened even more, he really did his best today.

With the bouquet now in your hands he moved away a little bit to reach for your shoes, gently taking them off for you. You couldn't help but coo at him a little bit, how could someone look so innocent and angel-like but in reality- hold on wrong thoughts.

Next two hours you spend on cuddles, talking about your past years and the memories you made together, sometimes pointing to the photos for reminders of various moments that passed. You were overjoyed with having him in your life, proud to hold his hand and announce to everyone that this perfect man is all yours.

The darkness of the night sky peeked at you, the moon listened to your stories intensively, sharing your intimacy, watching you with a silent promise not to speak of this moment to anyone.

You were lying down together, desserts he brought already eaten. Your bodies facing each other, the warmth and feelings in your eyes worth more than a thousand words.

Slowly he raised from his lying position, sitting at the entrance of the make shift tent and taking something from the small table into his palm.

He looked at you over his shoulder, soft gaze meeting your eyes, you looked at him with a silent question, but instead of words he graced you with his hand, gesturing for you to take it, which you did instantly, pulling yourself up with his help.

He brought you up to your feet, and walked a couple steps with your palm resting in his.

The grass gently tickled your feet, before he came to stop with you in front of him. The little box now in his other hand.

"I thought a lot those past couple of weeks." his gaze dropped from your eyes to his hand "I can't imagine my life without you in it. A thousand lifetimes are not worth as much as your love." his eyes came back to yours. His hand never let go of yours.

You were confused, not understanding what was happening, but then...

You saw his body slowly leaning down, until one of his knees met the ground. For a moment you still couldn't grasp what was happening. But then it hit you, your eyes widen.

"I know that this is unexpected, but believe me, it's been on my mind for the longest time. I didn't know how to ask you, if there ever will be a right moment, but then I decided to make a perfect moment myself." you squeezed his hand a little to let him know you are listening "I'm sorry that this is not what a princess proposal should look like... But I know that you value little moments much more than grand spectacles, and that's probably one of the reasons I fell so deeply in love with you. With you there are no expectations, no questing my ideas, you're always there to support me, cheering me on every time." you couldn't help but laugh a little, to which he responded with a small smile of his own "So, if you'll only grace me with the honor of having you as my wife, I'll be the happiest man in the universe." he opened the little box, a beautiful ring hid there, now showing to you the prettiest gem you ever seen.

"Xavier I..." you laughed, overwhelmed with emotions, you were not expecting THAT to happen today, how did he manage to hide his plans so well? "Of course I'll be your wife." in a split second the ring found itself on your finger, fitting perfectly. A second later you were snooped up into Xavier's arms with him spinning you around.

Your laughter was his absolute favorite sound in the world. He stopped his spins, but still held you in his arms, a kiss fell onto your lips, instantly you got lost in the feeling, you cling to him like to a lifeline. He hugged you tighter, not letting you move away for even an inch.

You didn't know what gods to thank for sending him to you, but you will forever be thankful for the opportunity to share your life with this man.

You pulled back for air, breaking the heated kiss, your hot breaths mixing. He still didn't let you go. For a moment you could swear you saw tiny lights flying around him.

"I love you my starlight." he didn't even let you say it back before coming back to launch at your lips. Oh how much you loved your innocent looking freaky fiancé.

[kkskdeaddove]

KKSKDD2025 Wrap-Up (Complete!)

HELLO KAKASAKU DARK FIC LOVERS!

So sorry for the previous post which was incomplete (more coffee was needed this morning). THIS post contains the titles and summaries for all 27 fics that were published for this year's KakaSaku Dead Dove Week 2025. The fics can all be found in this year's AO3 collection.

Please read the tags before checking out the full works. If something is going to make you uncomfortable, don't read it. You are responsible for curating your own fanfiction experience.

Thank you to everyone who participated, encouraged, commented, read, kudosed, and cheered on our amazing creators! Looking forward to future kksk dd events 🖤 Without further ado...

Compatibility level 99.6% by BelleDayNight

Post-war birthrates in Konoha are low. The Fire Daimyo issues an order to boost those numbers. Sakura is part of the science team to create an algorithm to find the most compatible partners amongst the shinobi of Konoha. Soon to be Rokudaime, Kakashi feels obligated to participate in the Daimyo's pairing lottery. He shouldn't ask his people to do something he's not willing to do himself. Kakashi and Sakura are partnered with the highest compatibility score -- they aren't complaining!

Night Watch by xylazine

Kakashi has a suggestion to make time pass more quickly during a long stretch of night watches. Sakura agrees, not quite knowing what she's agreeing to.

Sweet Dreams by Anonymous

He was supposed to be on lookout, watching for any wayward enemies who were unfortunate enough to stumble upon them while they were this far away from civilization. But the sounds of her soft snores drew his attention more than the dark and quiet treeline. 

Tell No Tales by twofortea

The last thing Sakura remembers is stopping by Hokage Tower, and now…

Kakashi's Kunoichi: A Lesson in Piss by rosebrided

She sat up a little straighter. A special lesson? Part of her beamed at the idea of having his sole attention without the others, for once. No Naruto, no Sasuke. Just her and Kakashi-sensei. But whatever it was, it couldn't be good. Not after he caught her red-handed. Kakashi took half a step closer, forcing Sakura to scoot backwards—and collide with a tree. With her back against the trunk and the rough bark digging into her palms, she was trapped. Why was she afraid? She had no reason to be afraid of him. This was only Kakashi-sensei. Team Seven's leader. She trusted him. Or: Sakura tries to catch a glimpse of Sasuke peeing and Kakashi catches her.

Ramen Glory Hole by xylazine

Naruto shows Sakura an exclusive new ramen spot. A confusion of doors leads to something else entirely.

Just Another Hole in the Wall by Anonymous

As always, most of Sakura’s adventures in life began with a push (or a dare, or a threat) from Ino. Traveling to other countries just to explore, rather than run herself into the ground with her work at the hospital? An Ino-enforced idea. Eating spicy food until she built up to the tolerance of a normal person? She and Ino had suffered runny noses and stinging lips together for the duration of a month. Finding herself stuffed halfway through a hole in the wall, waiting on a stranger to pull her legs apart and show her a good time? Sakura didn’t even want to think about the night of drunken admissions and dares that led her to this situation.

The wolf and the lamb by xylazine

Sakura receives a mysterious invitation to the Midnight Masquerade. What surprises await her there?

Dirty Little Secret by MikaOfTheLeaf

Sakura has developed a crush on her Sensei and writes all about her secret desires in a diary. Kakashi has always liked reading, and he's itching to get his hands on that little book she's always toting around.

The Hound's Desire by XXYandereChanXX

Kakashi’s job should have been simple—kill the man who had stolen from Mayor Minato and leave a message for anyone else who thought it was a good idea to cross his boss. A quick, clean job, something that was child’s play for him. But then he met Sakura, the niece of Keitaro Haruno. Kakashi, a seasoned hound for Konoha, had never wanted anything as much as he wanted her. The moment their paths crossed, everything shifted. Her innocence, her strength—it was intoxicating in a way he couldn't quite explain, a draw he couldn’t resist. In all his years of ruthless work, he had never been so consumed by desire, so captivated by someone. Sakura, sweet and unaware, had unknowingly stepped right into his trap. She would never see it coming. Kakashi had carefully constructed every move, every word, every detail—he would have her, and she wouldn’t even realize the danger she was in until it was far too late.

polarization by xylazine 

In need of cash, Sakura signs up for a "sleeping beauty" service. Little does she know the dark path this will lead her down.

In Such Bitter Desire by twofortea

Kakashi wasn’t expecting to go into a sudden rut while out on a mission. Luckily, the ninken have a plan.

disquiet by xylazine

Kakashi's worst nightmare unfolds when he and Sakura are captured by rogue missing-nin.

At Least You’re Alive (You Might as Well Be Useful For Once) by Fusionblitz28

Her hand weaves through his hair until she finds a patch to hold onto and pulls his head backwards towards her face, “You shouldn’t fight so much, it won’t do you any good,” she whispers. “You’re mine now, Sensei. Now Sit.” She uses her chakra to push him down and he tumbles forward, a heap at her feet. Kakashi awaits his death sentence. Instead he becomes a pet under new ownership. He isn't Konoha's bitch anymore. He's Sakura's.

Prisoner of Your Love by arichii98, Koneko_taichou

After being spurned by her long-time love interest, Sakura is through waiting around for him to realize they belong together. They're going to create a life together and be happy. Whether he agrees willingly or not.

fervent by xylazine

An induced rut claws beneath Kakashi's skin and relief comes in an unexpected form.

impartment by xylazine

Duty always comes first. Until Sakura makes a request he's unable to resist.

Kakashi's Lying Kunochi by XXYandereChanXX

Sakura lied all the time—it came as easily as breathing. But she never lied to her teacher...until she did. She shouldn't have done that.

Ravenous by xylazine

Kakashi realizes he views Sakura as more than just a teammate and friend. Only, instead of his words, he takes matters into his own hands. In pretty much the worst way possible.

young and beautiful by twofortea

The next phase of Sakura's training starts now.

revolting by xylazine 

Kakashi dreams about teaching the solider formerly known as Haru a lesson she won't forget.

We've Only Just Begun by MikaOfTheLeaf

After losing everything, Sakura finally has a chance to finally start rebuilding her life when she receives her first mission orders since before the end of the war. It's been months since Sasuke disappeared in the middle of the night again, leaving her and the village behind for a second time. She hasn't seen Kakashi in a year, and she has no idea when she walks back into his life that he's been struggling with his feelings for her ever since he saved her life under the Samurai Bridge years ago. Will she be able to trust herself enough to let him in, or will the damage done by her first heartbreak be too much to overcome?

Fangs Of Passion by XXYandereChanXX

The Hatake clan is said to take only one mate, but what few know is that they recognize them the moment they meet. Kakashi tried to deny it, but when a jutsu caused his kekkei genkai to surge uncontrollably, his instincts took over. There was no escaping the truth anymore—he had to accept it. Hopefully, Sakura could handle the undeniable truth—that she was his.

as desperation takes hold by twofortea

Everything falls apart in seconds.

Sweet Girl by LolaLot

“Kakashi-sensei?” Sakura looked up at him with those same eyes she had when she was twelve and his student. Hungry for guidance, a little scared, but still so sharp. “How far am I supposed to go to help others? How far is too far?” Staring down at her, Kakashi didn’t have an answer. Being a war hero hadn’t saved him, and it wouldn’t save Sakura either. For them, there were no heroes.

Her Soul For Mine by MikaOfTheLeaf

“Promise me,” Tsunade said. “Promise me you won’t back out, that you won’t let him break her.” Kakashi's rage flared and he shot her a venomous look, speaking before he could stop himself. “It’s better for me to break her instead?” He hissed, unable to restrain his anger at the situation any longer. Tsunade’s eyes softened, but she couldn’t look him in the face as she quietly said, “You won’t,” she sounded so sure of herself, as though she had absolute faith in him. It made him sick. She continued, “You’ll leave her with her soul, Kakashi. Sakura will be able to heal, she’ll find a way to move past this. Do you think she’d fare so well with him?”

groom by doveonlifesupport 

Groom: 1. (Noun) A man just married or about to be married 2. (Verb) To prepare someone for an objective or purpose Kakashi is given a second chance, to fix what Uchiha Madara broke. But avoiding the Fourth War isn't the only thing he's determined to change.

[citizen-of-the-fandom]

I get home from work at 5 and if I want to be well-rested enough not to get headaches and actually get stuff done, I need to go to bed at 10

I have five hours a day to live my life

it's not enough

[xxplastic-cubexx]

personal happiness or what the fuck ever

bonus:

[horsegirlsodapop]

arg! the outsiders fandom should all collectively talk more about poverty! ah! talk about cps. talk about food stamps talk about government cheese talk about stealing and not in the fun way talk about fear of going hungry talk about the reason the gang is a gang and not just a friend group. um. talk about dallas living in buck merril's like spare room talk about soda giving up his paycheck to darry so they can stay together talk about MORTGAGE talk about the vietnam war and poverty and enlistment and the draft! ah! talk about the class divide! talk about debt! talk about how darry could never "go soc" because no matter his skill in football or the way he wore his hair he could never rise above his socioeconomic class enough to be considered one of them! talk about paul holden punching him in the face! talk about county lock up! talk about police brutality! talk about pony craving escape!

[dannyphannypack]

i am once again asking for niche or under-appreciated danny phantom fanfics/crossovers

[thefawnfallacy]

I know it’s generally in good fun when making jokes about how young fujoshi in the early 2000s-2010s talked about queer couples (i.e. “yuri couple, yaoi couple, i see no difference love is love” or “if you police people’s identities you are not yaoiful at all”) but if you look at it from the lens of acknowledging that this, for many of them, is their first time even realising being queer was an option, it’s a very interesting study in realising that this is an attempt at inclusion from the perspective of someone who may not have ever heard of things like gender identity or sexuality beyond “boy” and “girl”.

[valewritessss]

Can someone give me well written fluffy Percabeth fics I feel like I’ve read the majority of them already and I don’t want to open another tab to add on to the 107 tabs I have.

Edit: THANK YOU SO MUCH TO THOSE WHO GAVE ME RECS PEOPLE NEVER ACTUALLY ANSWER

[stump-not-found]

Sorry if this has already been answered, but does Ford celebrate his birthday? I know its pretty hard to keep track of time when its ... nonlinear in the multiverse but I feel like Bill would know. And to ford every once and a while Bill demands his attention and he comes back to the pyramid to the wildest (worst) surprise party. The cake is human skin, candles are those really long wisdom teeth. Ford hates it.

i'll call out that a main plot point of chapter 4 is the fact bill gets ford presents on his b-day so yah its a regular thing, but they celebrate the day after his b-day

first birthday together bill probably does the skin cake thing but ford just rolls his eyes and sighs . bill almost fucking shoots himself after that response

[toddtakefive]

breaking my silence: i think a lot of anderperry angst mischaracterizes them so badly it’s impossible to take seriously or enjoy. neil in particular is almost always made into some raging asshole for… some reason? and it makes him so unrecognizable it’s almost insulting to his character

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@zepskies

And just like that... my obsession with Karl Urban was rekindled. 🤣

Girl, you're killing it with the LOTR fanfiction. It's so good and this one for Eomer is no exception. First of all I really like the premise of this fic, an arranged marriage that grows into love 💕 And I love that you said it started out as an OFC and you turned it into a reader insert- I know we've both talked about that before and you know how I've done the same thing for some of my fics 🥰

Flashes of memory from the night before conjured in your mind; of the surprising carefulness in his calloused hands, of hot, sweat-slick skin against yours, and the rasp of his beard as his lips and deft fingers taught you more of pleasure.

“I’ve drawn a bath for you, unless you prefer to rest longer,” he said. You blinked. “Really?” That was a kindness you did not expect. Éomer’s lips tugged upwards. He offered you his hand. Though you hesitated, you slipped your free hand into his. Instinctively you took the furs with you to cover yourself, your face warming down to your neck under the weight of his amused stare.

Oh my word, he drew her a bath- what a MAN. Also I love the added detail that she still wrapped herself in the blanket when she walked even though it's after the two of them have slept together. I think it is perfect for the arranged marriage side of the story, that she's still not quite comfortable showing all of herself yet and it was a great little detail you added.

Was that a note of disappointment in your tone, in the downturn of your face? Éomer paused, but he did as he set out to do, leaving you to your bath in peace. He went over to his side of the bed to continue dressing himself, slipping a long shirt over his head that he tucked into his breeches. Though he tried not to let them, his thoughts of you remained.

Oh my sweet goodness, the little look into his head of him thinking about his wife. For me it's giving a little bit of "he falls first" and I'm melting!

By the Valar, was there no end to how you blushed around this man? You only couldn’t tell if being kept by you was a duty he relished in.

Honey I'm going to stop you right there... YES, yes it is a duty he relishes in!

Éomer blinked in surprise. On his face it was still muted, but it was there. Your words touched him. He cleared his throat, for some reason finding his face a bit warm. In his eyes, you continued to be a wonder. He too hadn’t known what to expect from a woman of Gondor. He knew what many in your country thought of the people of Rohan—simple folk at best, and horse-wild barbarians at worst. With you, he’d mostly expected a haughty, spoiled brat. He’d never been more willing to be proven wrong. In fact, the more he learned about you, the more beautiful you became.

For the love of sweet baby corn, she's making the dangerous horse-riding sexy man who could and snap me in half (and I'd say thank you) blush! 😂

“Regardless of how we were entered into this arrangement, I stand by my vows,” he said. “I will honor and protect you, and do my utmost to make you comfortable here in my home.”  You smiled. Your hand turned under his to curl your fingers around his palm. “I will also honor and protect you in whatever way I am able. And I will do my utmost for your house, for it is now mine as well,” you replied.

Soon, it wasn’t enough. He slid his arms around your waist and under your knees before he stood with you in his arms. He smiled at your squeal of surprise. It was the first real smile you’d ever seen upon his face. It delighted you to be the one who put it there.

And she made him smile 😭

Oh my word this is so good! I need 50 million more! I would love to read more of this reader and Eomer falling in love, but if not that’s also okay- because this was incredible just the way it was my wonderful friend 💚💚💚!

AS TRADITION DICTATES

Pairing: Éomer x Reader 

Summary: Your marriage to the Third Marshal of the Mark has been arranged in the hopes of renewing political ties between Rohan and Gondor. The morning after the ceremony, your new husband continues to defy your expectations.

AN: I’ve been wanting to write something for Éomer for a while now, so here we go! Confession: this one-shot actually comes from an Éomer x OFC story I have fully outlined, called The Appeasement Bride. I adapted this snippet into a reader insert story.

Word Count: 1.7K

Originally posted on Patreon: 1/21/2025

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Spiciness, fluff, newlyweds trying to suss each other out lol.

You woke just after the dawn, the sun peeking over the horizon and filtering through the open window. Its light began to wash over your face and stir you from a deep, well-earned sleep.

Your hand slipped out from under your head and drifted over…and you frowned. Opening your eyes, you realized that your husband’s side of the bed was empty and cold. Already, it seemed, he didn’t care to be with you when you woke. Had you done something wrong?

Flashes of memory from the night before conjured in your mind; of the surprising carefulness in his calloused hands, of hot, sweat-slick skin against yours, and the rasp of his beard as his lips and deft fingers taught you more of pleasure.

A shiver ran down your spine, blooming some warmth between your legs. Surely, if you had displeased him, he would’ve told you so. Or maybe he was polite enough to withhold that from you, along with most of his other thoughts. Éomer was often so stoic, it was difficult for you to learn your husband, even before the wedding ceremony yesterday.

You had come to Rohan over a month ago, and in that time, you had been able to glean precious little about him other than the ones he seemed to value most: his sister, his cousin, his uncle, Théoden King, his country, and his horse.

Not that he told you any of these things in words. You saw it in his actions—by the way he carried himself, and the way he spoke to you and others with fairness and courtesy, not arrogance. You’d heard gossip of his infamous temper, but so far, you had not seen it.

Nor did you see him now.

Perhaps he had more pressing work to do. In these past few weeks, you saw a bit of how demanding his station could be, and you understood his duty to patrol the Riddermark as Third Marshal of these lands. However, if he could’ve just been courteous enough to wake you before he left—

The heavy door of the bed chamber opened to Éomer himself. He wore only breeches and boots, his wheat-blonde hair loose and unadorned down his back. You swallowed a surprised gasp and watched him from the bed, unconsciously bringing the fur blanket up to your shoulders.

He met you with a polite, “Good morning,” before he continued inside to stoke the fire. He held more kindling wood in his arms, and he laid it on the platform before the fireplace.

“Good morning,” you nodded, though your cheeks warmed in a blush at the sight of his bare chest (you remembered that slightly wooly patch well). The defined muscles of his shoulders and arms shifted with his movements.

You were also a little embarrassed for overthinking.

“You rose early,” you added belatedly, for lack of something better to say.

“I am accustomed to it,” he said.

He finished with the fire and stood. You couldn’t help the way he captured your gaze, his measured steps bringing him closer to the bed. You sat up to meet him, the furs draping from your body, covering only where you held the soft fabric over your breasts. His eyes were an interesting shade of green as they roamed over you.

“How did you sleep?” he asked.

Somehow it was not what you were expecting, though it was perfectly agreeable. Your blush deepened.

“Very well, thank you.”

He nodded. Then, something almost hesitant passed through his gaze.

“I’ve drawn a bath for you, unless you prefer to rest longer,” he said.

You blinked. “Really?” That was a kindness you did not expect.

Éomer’s lips tugged upwards. He offered you his hand. Though you hesitated, you slipped your free hand into his. Instinctively you took the furs with you to cover yourself, your face warming down to your neck under the weight of his amused stare.

Your hair was a tangled mess along with the sheets remaining tousled on the bed, and you realized that your body was sore in places you had never felt so. He led you around a simple wooden partition to a wide bath that was built into the ground. Your eyes widened at the luxury of it.

You had noticed that Rohan largely valued comfort and efficiency over ornateness in their architecture, but it seemed they lavished some things with greater detail.

Éomer helped you step into the bath. He took the furs from you, still with that amused glint, but he couldn’t stop himself from taking note of your bare, supple form, what glimpse he was able to get before you lowered yourself into the steaming water. He had explored each and every lovely curve the night before, but you were lovelier to behold in the morning, he thought.

You looked up at him with some hesitance, but there was a question there that he thought he would like to answer.

“Have you already bathed?” you asked.

“Yes,” he nodded, “I will leave you to your leisure. Breakfast will be brought up in a little while.”

“Oh. Yes, thank you,” you said.

Was that a note of disappointment in your tone, in the downturn of your face?

Éomer paused, but he did as he set out to do, leaving you to your bath in peace. He went over to his side of the bed to continue dressing himself, slipping a long shirt over his head that he tucked into his breeches. Though he tried not to let them, his thoughts of you remained.

Meanwhile, you relished in the hot water relieving your sore muscles (and other places). You washed and hummed a little tune to yourself, forgetting that you weren’t entirely alone, despite the partition.

By the time you left the bath, dried off and dressed in a heavy robe over a thin dressing gown, your new husband was already munching on bread and fruit and other good things that were brought up from the kitchens. He welcomed you to sit with him by the fire, where two wide chairs were draped with furs to make them comfortable. You joined him, and the tray of goods rested in between your seats.

“Do you have much to do?” you asked, while buttering a slice of bread. The crust was hard and somewhat sour, but the inside was soft and delicious.

“The only business I must attend to today is to remain kept with my wife,” Éomer said. He glanced up at you, once again capturing your gaze. “As tradition dictates.”

By the Valar, was there no end to how you blushed around this man? You only couldn’t tell if being kept by you was a duty he relished in.

You almost didn’t hear him when he added, “Tomorrow we will see your family off. They ride back to Gondor.”

Belatedly, you nodded. Éomer saw the note of melancholy cross your face.

“I am sure it is…a sooner parting than you would like,” he said.

You offered him a rueful smile. “Yes, but…not as difficult a goodbye as I thought it would be.”

One of his brows rose. “Why is that?”

Drawing in a deep breath, you mustered a little courage to answer him honestly.

“I did not know what to expect when I arrived in Rohan, but its lands have beauty of its own. Its people have integrity and courage, and its noble house is noble indeed,” you said. A small, true smile brightened you when you looked at him. “It is honorable, and kind.”

Éomer blinked in surprise. On his face it was still muted, but it was there. Your words touched him. He cleared his throat, for some reason finding his face a bit warm. In his eyes, you continued to be a wonder. He too hadn’t known what to expect from a woman of Gondor. He knew what many in your country thought of the people of Rohan—simple folk at best, and horse-wild barbarians at worst. With you, he’d mostly expected a haughty, spoiled brat.

He’d never been more willing to be proven wrong. In fact, the more he learned about you, the more beautiful you became.

He reached over, almost hesitant to cover your hand with his larger one. He was suddenly very conscious of his rougher palm in contrast with your soft skin.

“Regardless of how we were entered into this arrangement, I stand by my vows,” he said. “I will honor and protect you, and do my utmost to make you comfortable here in my home.” 

You smiled. Your hand turned under his to curl your fingers around his palm.

“I will also honor and protect you in whatever way I am able. And I will do my utmost for your house, for it is now mine as well,” you replied.

Éomer brushed his thumb over the back of your hand. He rose out of his seat enough to lean over, and he kissed you. It was sincere, but all too brief. You leaned towards him after he broke away, left wanting more as your eyes slid open.

Recognizing that look of desire stirred his own, deep in the pit of his stomach. He tugged on your hand meaningfully and guided you out of your chair, over to him. You tentatively sat across his lap, uttering a laugh when you slid backwards and landed against his chest. Your hand flew there to steady yourself. Éomer clasped it against his heart and claimed you in a deeper, rougher kiss, one fueled by a craving he couldn’t name.

You held his bearded face and hummed sweetly into his mouth. You matched his fervor, your fingers slipping into his hair and instinctively tightening a stronghold. He groaned in response. His hands, large and strong, moved over your side and down your back, while the other squeezed the supple flesh of your hip through your thin gown.

Soon, it wasn’t enough. He slid his arms around your waist and under your knees before he stood with you in his arms. He smiled at your squeal of surprise. It was the first real smile you’d ever seen upon his face. It delighted you to be the one who put it there.

He carried you to back his bed. Our bed.

But still, it was only a matter of lust, if twined with mutual respect and…curiosity.

You did not love him. (Yet.)

AN: Love me some blonde, medieval cowboy Karl Urban. 😘💜

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LOTR/The Hobbit Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Eomer Tag List:

@kmc1989 @eddie-munson-stories @thebiggerbear @lamaudite

[squircatlies]

can't wait for the wwdits finale to give us quantum nandermo so we can keep arguing whether it's canon for the rest of eternity <3

[justaz]

once merlin puts arthur to rest, the world around him disappears and he’s in ealdor staring at his mother’s back. his sobs from the lake grow worse at the sight of his mother and he wails like he’s a child again, calling repeatedly for his ma. she spins around and finds him, without asking any questions she dashes forward and pulls him into a hug, holding his weight as he falls apart in her grasp, choking out nonsensical words and soaking her dress with tears, snot, and drool, his overwhelming grief causing him to ignore any sense of shame he might’ve felt at such a scene.

he doesn’t remember explaining anything to her, frankly he doesn’t remember much beyond the cries he pressed into her shoulder, but she says he’s been in ealdor for a week. she’s clearly worried and asks, no, begs him to eat or drink but he doesn’t feel the need or desire to, and even if he did, he simply doesn’t have the energy to bring the sustenance to his mouth. she cradles his head in her lap and runs her finger through his hair like she did when he had a nightmare when he was younger. it’s almost enough to make the entire thing seem like a horrible, horrible dream. but theres blood on his tunic where he held arthur’s body to his own so he knows it’s not true.

his mother doesn’t ask any questions, the look in her eyes telling him that she knows anyway. perhaps his nonsensical babble created a clear enough image for her to understand. maybe she just saw the broken look in his eyes and came to the conclusion on her own. she doesn’t mention him. merlin isn’t sure if he’s relieved about that or not. in the end, he brings it up, he asks how she was able to go on after balinor left. he asks how she was able to pick herself back up on her own two feet and carry on life as normal after receiving his letter informing her of his passing. she says sometimes she can’t, sometimes she lays in bed and listens to the birds sing and can’t help but hate them. she says she lives on for him anyway. she pushes herself up and makes food and works in the fields even when she hate the world around her.

merlin tries to relate, tries to understand, tries to imagine himself getting up every morning and living on in his name. he can’t. his parents loved each other, he knows that, but they were their own people and were able to stand the years apart. merlin…merlin is arthur’s, even in death. everything he is, everything he’s done, has been for arthur. he is half of merlin’s soul, the center of merlin’s world. how can anyone expect him to move on as if he’s capable of being alone? how can anyone expect him to function as if half of his soul, half of himself, isn’t dead in a lake? merlin can’t do it, he can’t imagine living a life without arthur. he barely got through the week and that’s only because he was passed out for a majority of it. how could he make it a year, much less another fifty?

he can’t. he can’t do it. he can’t breathe, he’s in agony, the world around him doesn’t exist anymore. not without arthur.

he’s back at the lake now, tears still streaming down his face despite the pounding headache from dehydration yet it doesn’t matter, not anymore. none of it does. he stumbles into the lake and sends his magic into the water to tug excalibur from the depths. he can feel freya pulling the sword back, but his magic overpowers hers easily and the sword springs from the lake, gleaming in the afternoon sun. freya’s face appears in the ripples of the water next to him, her expression pleading and sorrowful. merlin whispers an apology before turning back to the sword, staring at the sharp point of the blade. he brings it closer to hover just over his heart, the metal pressing against his skin but not enough to draw blood just yet.

peace washes over him. the sun warms his skin and the water cools him to keep it from being unbearable. the birds sing in the trees as the wind whistles through the leaves. merlin stares up at the brilliant blue sky and pure white clouds roll by, images of bunnies and birds and crowns and horses staring down at him. he wonders if avalon will be this peaceful, if he and arthur could lay out in a field for eternity, basking in the sun and laughing as they point out misshapen clouds that supposedly look like the other.

he plunges the sword into his chest, right through his heart, and falls back into the water. bubbles trail out of his mouth up towards the surface, blood spills from his wound and mixes with the water. he closes his eyes as he sinks further and further. he knows when he opens them, he’ll be with arthur once more. it’ll all be okay. he doesn’t feel his body hit the bottom before blackness fills his mind.

arthur awakens from his fitful slumber in a bed that is not his own. he squints at the room, or rather hut, around him and finds an old man hunched over a book in the corner. arthur tries to speak but all that comes out is a squeak of air, his throat too dry to speak. the man hears and whirls around to begin treating him once more, prattling on and on about how he found arthur in the woods outside his village donning shiny clothes which he discarded bc of the blood staining them yet he couldn’t find a wound. arthur’s hand reaches up to his side but there’s no stab wound there, not anymore, though he does sport the scar. he remembers how he got it, he remembers stumbling away from the battlefield, he remembers being found by merlin- merlin.

he asks the man about him but he seems confused and denies ever knowing someone by that name. arthur climbs out of the bed (the flash of golden eyes) and hastily pulls on his armor (“i’m a sorcerer. i have magic.”). he’s out the door before the old man can protest. he’s in a village he doesn’t recognize, they must not be anywhere near camelot (“i’m still the same person.”). he turns to the old man hobbling out of the hut and demands directs to camelot. the man stares at him oddly and scratches his ear before informing him that he’s never heard of a camelot before (“you’re my friend and i don’t want to lose you.”).

he instead asks for directions to the woods where he was found and sets off in that direction, the old man shuffling after him (“me, i was born to serve you, arthur.”). it doesn’t take long to reach where he was found. if the old man had carried him home it couldn’t’ve been much of a hike (“and i’m proud of that.”). he steps into a clearing where the man panted that he found him here (“and i wouldn’t change a thing.”). it’s no where near the lake where merlin held him as he took his last breath, it’s no where near camelot. the man didn’t even recognize the name of his kingdom (“it’s not why i do it.”).

arthur sits in the grass as he thinks on his next move and the man who watched over him sits next to him (“i’m not going to change now.”). he speaks lowly of a prophecy about a man from a time long forgotten sent on a journey, a quest, to retrieve what has been lost. he says how the prophecy led many to a sword lodged in stone (“i’m not going to lose you.”) but no one could pull it free. he points out arthur’s armor and calls it odd, he mentions camelot, a kingdom of which he’s never heard, and gestures around the clearing where he found the mystery man. he concludes that perhaps the prophecy spoke of him (“i can’t lose him.”).

arthur, with no other options, follows the man’s directions to a lake. not exactly lake avalon but close enough. theres a small island in the center that seems more like a hill. the sword, his sword, excalibur is buried in a stone covered in moss, misshaping it’s actual form. arthur wades across the water and climbs the hill. he wraps his hands around the hilt of excalibur and closes his eyes. he imagines merlin confident and reassuring expression as they and all his men stood in the woods around this damn sword in a different stone however long ago it was. he breathes in and out (“he’s my friend.”) and pulls.

excalibur comes free just as it did before. arthur watches the metal pull free and as it does, the moss on the stone falls away revealing its form. it looks like a collapsed figure, excalibur having been lodged in it’s chest, right where it’s heart would be. arthur squints at what looks like the head and feels a flash of familiarity. the stone slowly fades away from the hole where excalibur was all the way to the hill. as the stone fades, it leaves behind skin and clothes and hair and…merlin.

arthur drops excalibur and falls to his knees to hold up merlin’s limp form. he feels warm, as if he didn’t just spend however long with a sword in his chest as a stone. he’s not breathing. why isn’t he breathing? arthur grasps around, shifting his clothes out of the way to find the wound where excalibur had once been. the skin is stitching itself together with tiny golden threads. arthur looks back up at merlin’s lax face as the wound fully closes. he inhales sharply as his eyes fly open, glowing gold, and all around him it seemed the world finally inhaled after suffocating for millennia.

merlin exhales and golden sparks shoot from his lips to flurry around in the air. the grass under them grows longer and curls around both his and merlin’s body where they rest against the ground. the water around their island clears from the murky brown to a blindingly clear blue. the air is crisp and clean, the sun brighter and warmer, and one soul finally whole again.

[supahstarrr]

i have to admit that i'm kind of scared to say this. i've held this thought to myself for a bit but. honestly, i'm unsure how i feel about people demonizing the concept of voicing & having criticism towards fanganronpas as a response to proclaimed fans of fanganronpas who have criticism rooted in bad-faith that is expressed disrespectfully. to say criticism, even when it is constructive, is less needed due to fangans being "less established" is—although understandable to an extent—simplistic thinking to me as it disregards context.

fanganronpas aren't established media—they may not have much impact to the general population as they are not promoted in established industries. yet there will be impact that is noteworthy regardless as not only it has its roots and inspiration from already established media, but also its apart of a niche community that is an extension of a larger community (danganronpa). let alone a niche community that is built on taking inspiration from other projects that are established or not.

criticizing fanganronpas extends to being criticism towards danganronpa, then to tropes the series uses which exists outside of that series. and what i'd argue is the most important—criticism towards fanganronpas act as inspiration for other fanganronpa creators and can be an expression of your love towards the series. for people to demean all criticism as unneeded and a character flaw of somebody, to just group up criticisms rooted in love or concerns for representation with ones fundamentally in bad-faith, and to just disregard the complexities of criticism by reducing it to one form—is harmful.

this thinking towards criticism leans towards being exclusive when at times they can also be concerns for how a fangan may use tropes that perpetuate harmful beliefs ingrained in society and/or contribute to (common) limiting tropes attached to minorities in media . i feel wary to voice or even have criticisms towards my own representation that is commonly disregarded or stereotypical (with those stereotypes stemming from harmful and dehumanizing beliefs) in fanganronpas and danganronpa. my concerns of how black, tanned & brown or women, girls, & femmes or how queer characters are represented in fanganronpas don't just stop there. they don't just stop at danganronpa either. they extend to the representation outside of that art, because both fanganronpas (and danganronpa) are impacted by media (and society) outside of danganronpa.

i don't know how to feel really. i don't always have criticism, all of my spaces (like this blog) is not built from my criticisms on fangans, i don't always feel the desire or need to attempt at spreading my criticism around with tags and all, i don't always desire or need to attempt at bringing significant impact with my criticisms. yet still, i partially feel unwelcomed in the fanganronpa community just for having criticisms sometimes, even towards things that really matter. seeing how my race and skintone is represented in both danganronpa & fangans AND how fans in both of their communities respond to that representation & people who voice their concerns of that respresentation have made me disillusioned to the concept of a total "positive" space that doesn't allow criticism for the sake of comforting those who might not even be affected by the representation that *needs* to be criticized.

i feel too complicated about the discussion. i also dont think this way of thinking towards criticism also gets to the root of those proclaimed fans of fanganronpas who express their nonconstructive criticisms in harshness—which is entitlement, at times unhealthy parasocial relationships with the creator, and wanting to feel "owed" by the creator that is so insanely common in fandoms. its not that theyre voicing or having criticisms in the first place, its how they voice it or have criticisms based on negative attitudes with no valid depth behind it (which may disregard the narrative for the sake of personal tastes). instead, this thinking towards criticism risk shutting down vaild criticisms and concerns about the harm fangans may perpetuate and how they can contribute to regressive representation of minorities.