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foldingfittedsheets · 5 months ago

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Here’s a story about the time I almost lost my virginity. This is of course a social construct and by a broader understanding had already been lost years earlier at a sleepover with my best friend. But I digress.

I was dating a boy in high school. I shall call him Drama Boy. DB was big into theater, he made home movies and did stage performances at his high school.

Now. I must make this notation here, because the ending to this story will be savage otherwise, but DB put entirely too much of his mental well-being on my shoulders. He was often depressed and it was my job to constantly be helping him to regulate that.

The night our story took place we had been dating for eight months. During those months had been a ludicrous amount of making out and groping, even one lusty fumble that almost ended in penetration I vetoed on the grounds of not having a condom. It’s worth noting the first time we made out I felt physically sick to my stomach but I assumed that was normal.

But our parents didn’t give us much opportunity to really do anything like we imagined real sex to be. Until he came over for a movie night and my parents left on a date.

Scandalous, some might say, of my parents to leave us unchaperoned. But my parents were very blasé about sexual topics. They knew I was well educated and careful. Their leaving was possibly a gift of privacy rather than carelessness.

So when DB arrived for our movie night, we both knew This Was The Night. The night we’d lose our virginity.

We were both nervous and excited. The weight of societal pressure blanketed both of us, convincing us that this was the most momentous night of sex either of us could ever have.

DB chose a wretched movie. We sat through the first part dutifully before we started making out sloppy style. As I’d said previously, we’d done plenty of making out and hand stuff. Which is why I noticed that DB did not seem to be as… rigid as he had on other occasions.

A kinder more mature lens has softened my perspective. He was so nervous. But at the time I was a bit offended that I wasn’t arousing enough to have him standing at full mast. Still, we forged ahead.

I sat patiently while he tried to unhook my bra, boredly watching the terrible movie in the background as he soldiered manfully toward defeating the two clasps containing the bounty of my bosom while insisting he didn’t need my help. It took about five minutes.

That out of the way we made out some more. Then DB pulled out his pièce de résistance. A condom. This was a big get for him. His family, unlike mine, were horribly conservative and of the opinion that marriage was worth waiting for. So his opportunity to secure this vital piece of equipment had been slim.

In fact, it had been so slim, that what he pulled out was an:

Unlubricated

Glow in the dark

Novelty condom

From a vending machine

At the bowling alley.

I wasn’t terribly enthused about any of those qualifiers, but I held my tongue.

Then came the worst part. DB couldn’t admit that the stress of performance had unmanned him. He continued to pretend his wobbly erection could facilitate the rigorous activity of putting on a condom. He attempted to force the dry clinging rubber down his dick as it softened like pudding under his fumbling hands.

I butted in and made with more kissing, certain that seeing me naked had been such a let down that he was going limp because of me. Surely the sight of my boobies should have been enough! Because they weren’t, I was convinced he wasn’t really into this deflowering at all.

It didn’t help that my enthusiasm for this activity was fueled purely by teen hormones rather than actual sexual attraction. Perhaps he felt the same. It was one thing to watch his penis with clinical curiosity but another to think that my young boobs didn’t excite the same lust I felt toward boobs.

Nevertheless. The condom was more or less on. With momentous energy he tried to jam our anatomy together and rolled a critical failure. His penis lost all rigidity and oozed away from insertion.

Panicking and embarrassed he exclaimed, “I think I put this on wrong!”

To my horror he began trying to remove the condom and put it back on the other way. Health instructors of ages past screamed in my head that the condom had now been stretched and unrolled.

Trying to jam it back on was certainly not safe, especially given the slackness of the anatomy in question. It would certainly tear- if he could even get it back on.

I broke out in a sweat watching him attempt the magic trick of convincing a flaccid penis that it really wanted to get better acquainted with a desiccated rubber tube prison.

“I just remembered!” I exclaimed.

He looked up at me, wretched with despair.

“I promised my parents I wouldn’t have sex tonight. I just remembered! Sorry!”

This could go down in history as one of the most bold faced and terrible lies ever told, a blatant falsehood on par with declaring the sky was green. But his face broke out in a terrible relief.

He disposed of the abused condom and I resecured my bra and we resumed watching the horrible movie, both of us relieved in our own way to set down the burden of Losing Virginity.

The next day I broke up with him.

This remains to this day one of the most savage things I’ve ever done, breaking up with someone the night after impotence.

But remember, dear reader! It wasn’t just the sex! His depression had already worn away my patience and our communication. The foibles of the night before had just illuminated the gaps where we couldn’t talk to each other properly. I was constantly comforting him over something, shoring up his brain chemistry with my relentless positivity.

I’d like to say that’s all it was, and look more charitably on my young self. But truthfully my tender pride had also been badly stung that I wasn’t worth rising to the occasion for. Comforting him over this latest mishap when my feelings were hurt was more than I could swallow.

DB took the breakup very poorly. About two weeks later he lost his virginity with the new girl he was dating. He called me to brag, sniffing through the airwaves for hints that he’d hurt me back.

When I congratulated him with utter sincerity and not a whiff of jealousy he was furious.

We stopped speaking for years, except on our mutual birthday when we’d wish each other a cordial “Happy birthday.”

He messaged me out of the blue one day years later to catch up. He was working in food service now. Was it true I was a lesbian? Yes, I assured him, that was true. He thought that was pretty cool.

Then he told me about this bisexual girl he worked with who was interested in a threesome. Did I want to have a threesome with him and his bisexual coworker?

The audacity. I couldn’t believe it. My mind filled with savage retorts like, if you understand I’m a lesbian why do you think I’d want you to be part of that? Why wouldn’t I just sleep with her without you?

But I remembered the utterly ruthless way I’d dumped him and as penance I swallowed all of the things I wanted to say and instead politely told him I was seeing someone, but thanks for the offer.

And that was it. He’d managed to shoot his shot not once, not twice, but three times, and never managed a home run. He struck out that last time, and we never spoke again.

#ramblies #funny #ffs foibles #story #writing #nsft #I guessss since I say penis a lot #funny story

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pastorpresent · 2 months ago

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Inspired by a lovely ask/prompt from @flower-majesty-anon, who asked for some deadclaws lipstick marking and mirror shenanigans with a sprinkle of angst:)) thank you so much my dear for the prompt!

Logan is panting hard into Wade's mouth, making desperate little noises everytime Wade thrusts into him. The sort of noises Wade wishes he could literally keep in a bottle, because they are fucking glorious - and he puts a lot of that down to the fact it's The Wolverine making them. Who would've thought he would dissolve so beautifully during sex? Sound so sickeningly sweet?

Wade could admit he was obsessed. Who wouldn't be? It's funny, because back in the Honda odyssey days, Logan would've swore up and down that he was not a bottom, and yet the first time he let Wade try, one otherwise dull Tuesday afternoon - about a month ago, a few weeks post world saving... well, Wade hadn't had a dick in his ass since, and Logan had become his own personal flesh light.

And Wade was a gentleman. He left it to Logan everytime to choose which half he wanted to be, and then silently squealed in delight as the man, Logan Howlett himself, would blush the prettiest of pinks and ask to be fucked open on Wade's dick.

Life did get better, kids!

Their sex was violent, and rough, and neither of them would have it any other way. How else were you supposed to do it when you finally find someone who matches your immortality and boner for being ripped into?

Honestly, despite what most people would likely think, Wade was just a tad more on the aggressive side than what Logan was. Of course that was only because most the time the older mutant was getting fucked so hard and edged for so long that he wasn't cohesive enough to fight, settling for lazy bites on Wade's neck that barely broke the skin, because he was rocked into a moan before he could finish the job.

Wade loved to mark Logan. Biting and sucking hickeys everywhere he could reach, the marks smeared with a little bit of blood. It meant Logan was his. All fucking his.

"Fuck," Logan breathed, grasping his shoulders to stop himself from being smacked into the headboard with the force of which Wade was hammering into his body, the tightness absolutely fucking delicious, hugging his dick perfectly. Jesus, he wanted to be inside Logan permanently. It was his happy place. Screw unicorns and waterfalls and meadows - the best place he could conjure up in his cesspool of a head was here, with Logan all sweaty and desperate beneathe him while he hammered his g-spot.

He leaned forward, catching Logan's lips in a brief kiss before moving just below his jaw, nosing at the skin, sucking hard, nipping with his teeth.

It drove Logan crazy, as usual. Wade felt him tighten around him, and the brunette gasped, lifting his chin higher. Always so beautifully accomodating and obedient. His Kitty.

By the time he was done ravaging at his neck, they'd both came, and Logan looked like he'd been mauled. In the best way, obviously. His neck was bruised, hickeys layered atop of each other like some sort of dirty collage. He looked gorgeous, sprawled out on the mattress, chest heaving, marked up.

After a minute or two of being collapsed in a sweaty heap together, Logan got up to go grab a towel. And yeah, Wade knows as the 'fucker' that really ought to be his job, but he was comfy lying in the mess of bodily fluids, and realistically Logan had the easier job! He just had to lie there looking pretty while Wade did the hard stuff. Ha, get it? Hard stuff?

Yeah, not his best, but there was something about a two hour sex marathon and orgasming a half dozen times that turned his brain a bit mushy.

He watched Logan go, said mush brain not quite awake enough to muster an ass comment, so he settled for just staring at it. He was heading for the bathroom, but Wade watched him pause at their mirror.

His fingers traced over the marks on his neck as they healed into nothing.

The expression on Logan's face was... sad, as he ran his hand over his bare neck and jaw.

He didn't say anything, moving to get the towel, and returning without mentioning it. He cleaned himself up first, and Wade watched. There was rarely silence between them, mostly because of Wade- Logan could probably not say more than single word every half hour and there still wouldn't be lues of silence.

When there was, it was comfortable. As it was, the current silence was because Wade was studying Logan, trying to get a read on his earlier reaction.

Did he not like the marks? They went away pretty quick, and he enjoyed the process of their creation well enough. Was it too much? They didn't really have any limits at all when it came to sex, because they could always sort of tell when the other wasn't into something, but he could've sworn Logan was into having his neck turned into some sort of crude rendition of Van Goghs 'starry night'.

Wade's train of thought was cut off by Logan cleaning his dick, his light touch too much for the very sensitive part of Wade's anatomy.

"You're too quiet," Logan said as he wiped down his chest, which was sticky with their combined release.

Wade took the towel from him and gently wiped Logan's eyebrow, where he'd missed the bit of come Wade had landed there on his third (fourth, maybe...?) orgasm.

"I'm not the one staring at themselves in the mirror like some teenage girl the morning after prom night," Wade replied, and yeah, maybe the humour was a bit of a defence mechanism here - because he was internally panicking over the idea that Logan wasn't into this, them, as much as he was, and worse still - he didn't feel comfortable enough to let Wade know.

Logan looked uncomfortable.

Fuck, dammit!

He couldn't lose this. Now he'd gotten a taste, he'd be a damn addict for Logan's skin and...

And he was the person who could make Wade feel fucking alive, for the first time since he went and got himself tortured into a damn freak. There was something about dying and regenerating over and over - you come back, breathing and solid, but it's like there was still a death rattle beneathe your ribs.

When he was with Logan, whether they be balls deep in each other or just eating fucking breakfast, that coldness dissipated. Quietened down into something Wade could conceivably ignore.

"It's nothing, just drop it," Logan muttered, but that had never been Wade's strong suit.

"Nope, tell me what's up or I'm never putting my dick in your sweet ass ever again," Wade slapped said ass, and Logan growled, cheeks going red.

"It's... fuckin' stupid, you'll just make fun of me," Logan scoffed, folding his arms over his chest and looking down at the bedding rather than Wade himself.

"If it's upsetting you it's not stupid. Come on babygirl, spill your guts to daddy," Wade purred, which only made Logan's glare intensify and the redness to spread down his neck.

He huffed a sigh, moving to get up, but Wade grabbed his wrist.

"No, hey, c'mon! I'll stop, I'll stop. Just tell me what's going on in that head of yours, peanut," he said, and Logan settled back on the bed, pulling one of their blankets around himself so he wasn't completely naked.

Wade didn't really give a shit about covering himself up, lying spread eagle on the bed still.

"Just... no fucking laughing, alright?" Logan gritted, and Wade nodded, "pinky promise," he said, holding out his pinky finger which Logan ignored.

"I like when you leave marks. I... I really, really like it, actually because it..." Logan's quiet voice trailed into silence in the room as he fidgeted, growling low in his throat as he grew frustrated at finding the right words.

"It makes you feel owned? Like you're mine, baby?"

Wade really wasn't mocking this time, reaching out to run a hand over the exposed skin of Logan's thigh, which earned him a full body shiver. Bingo.

"Uhm- I- yeah, and I know it's pathetic but I... I like it. I like feeling like I'm- I'm yours," Logan admitted, somehow even quieter.

Wade sat up, cooed softly and brought his lips inches from his kittys, lifting a hand to cup his cheek, "you're all mine, hm? All mine forever?"

Logan's expression faltered a little at that last bit, and Wade frowned, "so what's the problem, angel?"

"The marks don't stay. They dissapear too quickly and there's... there's nothing. No proof of it- and I know it's stupid, cos it's hardly like I could show up to work looking like... but it just gets to me a little, seeing them fade as fast as they do."

Logan's staring down at his lap, struggling to swallow around a lump in his throat, and Wade just wants to melt into a pathetic puddle, because he understood what Logan meant but also to have his lover genuinely upset that he couldn't show off the fact he was getting fucked rough and good every night... it was as hot as it was depressing.

"What if you let me take photos next time? We could keep them in the drawer, and whenever you need a reminder..." it wasn't a perfect solution by any means, and he planned to brainstorm something better, but it would do for now.

Logan smiled softly at the idea, but it looked like he was still a bit dissapointed, "sounds good."

Wade kissed him, soft, just lips, and swore he'd make it his mission to make Logan look like his in a more long lasting kind of way.

Logan felt utterly stupid.

Why the hell did he admit that shit to Wade?! He must think he's the most ridiculous, pathetic person on the planet - and Logan wouldn't blame him.

He'd admit he may have some... issues. Issues that make it so he needs to feel owned, because if not he just feels like he's floating without purpose.

And, well, nothing in his life seemed to last, generally speaking. The x-men were supposed to, once upon a time, before he let them be slaughtered. His quiet life in the mountains was supposed to, his relationship with Scott and Jean... but none of it ever did.

The only things Logan had come to know as permanent fixtures in his life were pain and, ironically, loss.

And maybe it was because Wade had literally pulled him up from the abyss of nothingness, but he really needed him to be permanent. Needed them to be permanent.

But everyday he'd watched the marks the merc would bite into his skin, cushioned by affirmations of appreciation and devotion and ownership, dissapear into nothing, leaving no trace behind as if they'd never happened at all.

It hurt. It broke him a little bit to watch them fade, because he couldn't lose this and he didn't need the very physical visual reminder that with just one stupid fuck up, he very well could.

He might have already, in all honesty.

They hadn't fucked in two days. Which to most, is nothing. For them? Well, Logan can only fuck himself alone on a dildo so many times in a 48 hour period, and he thinks he's on track to set the damn record.

Wade is sort of just dipping in and out the apartment, never around enough for them to kiss, nevermind fuck, and Logan feels like some girl with a crush, sitting around twiddling his thumbs and waiting on Wade to fucking notice him - or more accurately, to take him to their room and fuck him stupid.

By day three, he figures it's probably over. He freaked Wade out with his chronic neediness and instability, and he pulls up apartment listings and thinks about packing his shit. If he really has ruined this, he just needs to be gone. He can't drag it out, not this, not with what they have. It's too much, and if it's going to disappear, Logan isn't going to hang around and watch it fade like the marks on his neck.

He'd say he has too much self respect for that, but in reality he's just a fucking coward.

On day four though, he's woken up to kisses.

On his chest. His neck. His shoulders.

Soft lips pressing against his skin, and he blinks awake, squinting against the sunlight creeping between the gaps of their shitty curtains.

"Hmph," he breathes, and those lips kiss his jaw, teasing the corner of his lips, "morning, gorgeous," Wade's familiar voice breaks through the fog in his brain.

He glances down, and at first he's confused by the red painting his skin. He wasn't in pain, and Wade didn't tend to make him bleed unless he was a willing, conscious participant.

Then Wade came into view, and Logan realises the red, for once, isn't blood.

It's lipstick.

"What..." he frowns, lifting a hand and pressing his thumb lightly to the mercs red lips, which stretch into a smirk as he does. His thumb comes back the same shade of red.

"It won't be permanent," Wade says, kissing his jaw, nibbling a little in a way which makes Logan's back arch the tiniest bit, "but it will last longer, especially 'cos the lady in the store told me this one was a right pain in the ass for staining skin," Wade wiggled his non-existent eyebrows, and Logan stared.

Stared for a bit too long, probably, because Wade is lifting off of him, the tiniest dredges of embarrassment visible in his expression, "if you think it's weird, we can stop. I just thought-"

"Not weird," Logan interrupted, pretending the hoarseness of his voice was purely from just waking up, "I just... you thought about solutions? You... you went fucking lipstick shopping? Consulted the damn sales clerk? All for..." Logan trailed off, his throat suffocating on emotion.

"For you, babygirl. Anything for you, you should know that by now," Wade finished.

Logan is almost relieved when Wade returns to kissing his way around his body because at least he doesn't see the way his eyes well up just a little.

He gets lost in the feeling of Wade all over him, relishing in it, by the time the merc moves to his ear, biting playfully at his earlobe and leaving a smudge of red there too.

"I want you to see. Want you to watch me mark what's mine," Wade spoke low in his ear, and Logan felt his entire body shiver at the notion of it, knew Wade did too by the way his smile widened, in that annoyingly smug way it tended to when he discovered something about Logan that he'd prefer to stay hidden.

"You like that idea, sweetheart?" Wade hums, sickeningly sweet.

Logan keeps carefully quiet, but Wade isn't exactly one to drop things and if anything, his evident embarrassment only eggs the merc on.

"Nuh-uh, princess. If you want something, you gotta use your words like a big girl or daddy isn't giving you anything," Wade pulls back a little, an obvious threat, and Logan glares because even that, those fucking nicknames, did something to him that he didn't get. Drove him insane with a need that he didn't know he had until he met Wade.

Part of him was just overwhelmed and pissed, never really one to submit quietly - but while Al was a pro at getting the blood out, she couldn't do much if Logan slashed up the sheets into ribbons.

He bit his tongue hard enough for copper to fill his mouth, and when he spoke his gritted teeth were stained red like the trail left behind from Wade's lips, "please, Wade."

"Please what?" Wade pushed, tilting his head and grinning from ear to ear.

Asshole.

"I- I want..." he swallowed, exhaled.

"Want what, honey?"

"Want to watch. Want- want to see you marking me and fucking me, please," it all came out a bit rushed, but Wade seemed pleased regardless.

"Your wish is my command," and then Wade was moving off of him, but bringing him with- fingers intertwining as the merc guided him off their bed and in front of the full length mirror they had propped in the corner of the room. It was dirty, and cracked in the corner, but Logan still felt his breath catch when he caught his reflection.

The trail of red smudges up his neck, around his jaw, bright and stark against his skin.

Marks from Wade. Kissed deep into his very being, born from a devotion he didn't deserve - because honestly? All Logan had ever wanted was to be owned, claimed as somebody's, but he'd always been tossed out. A stray. Good enough to pet, but not good enough to keep.

'Girls flirt with the dangerous guy, Logan... they don't take him home'

At least no one had ever thought so until Wade.

Wade, who found him at his lowest and claimed him - even all the way back then. Gave him a home and a second chance at life, and then did all of this. Went and bought lipstick, because of some dumb little hangup Logan had. Did all of this for him.

The gratitude was overwhelming. His knees buckled, his throat impossibly tight, and Wade caught him with ease, adjusting them so most of his body weight was pressed against Wade's scarred skin.

"Need a break, baby?" Wade asked behind him, lowering them both to the floor, tugging Logan back until he was sat on his lap, his eyes still on their reflection as he leaned his head against Wade's shoulder.

He shook his head the tiniest bit.

"Good girl," Wade praised, the words going straight to Logan's achingly hard dick which was standing to attention against his stomach.

Begging for attention Logan knows it won't get, not yet anyways, because when Wade's in this sort of mood, his cock goes completely ignored while he focuses on-

Fuck, there it is. A finger teasing his hole, dipping in just enough to make Logan groan, thighs jolting, his head hitting back against Wade's shoulder with a dull thump.

"Love your pussy, princess. She practically pulls me in," Wade teases a second finger, and Logan can see how embarrassingly red he goes.

"Wade," he scolds, unable to manage much more, and it's mortifying anyway because instead of the gruff warning he intended, his voice instead came out all breathless and squeaky.

"What?" Wade asks innocently, "you want me to stop?"

And it's not a question, not in the way Wade asks it - because he already has his answer.

He takes his fingers out, dragging them up his torso, tapping Logan's bottom lip. Logan's jaw drops open so fast it clicks, and Wade slides the digits in far enough to make Logan gag.

He glares at mirror Wade, biting down a little in retribution, which just earns a chuckle from the man behind him, "wet 'em, babygirl."

Logan swirls his tongue around them, unable to stop himself from nibbling just a little, until they are soaked.

Wade pulls them out, moves them back down, and Logan lifts up a little so he can slide them in like before.

He let's out a startled sound when Wade shoves him forward instead, barely catching himself with his hands as he's forced onto all fours.

Wade thrusts both fingers in all at once, wriggling them deep until they are simply pressing against his prostate with the most irritating, feather soft touch.

Logan tries to push back onto them, but Wade smacks his ass, tutting loudly.

"Now, now! If you can't be good, daddy is going to tie you up and make you watch him jerk himself to the most disgusting porn imaginable, all while you get nothing."

That stupid nickname again. Logan couldn't speak, his brain seemingly offline, so he just sort of whimpered instead, struggling so much to stay still that his arms began to shake, every cell of his body begging him to start moving and fucking himself on Wade's stupidly good fingers.

"That's it, good girl," his other hand trails until it's cupping his chest, a thumb grazing his nipple, which makes Logan moan.

He looks away from the mirror, mortified seeing his face twisted up in pleasure. How the fuck does that turn Wade on?

Wade notices, because of course the fucker does. He's always so damn vigilant, but it's like it gets cranked up to a thousand during sex. Or fighting. But Logan would put money on the fact it's higher during sex.

"Watch yourself, sweetheart. Look at how pretty you look with my fingers inside you while I play with your tits," Wade says, and Logan reluctantly meets his own gaze in the mirror, which makes Wade coo with praise, "there's my pretty girl, you're a damn vision! And you're all mine, aren't you sweetness?"

Wade punctuates his point by leaning forward, draping himself over Logan's back. The switch of position drives his wriggling fingertips into his prostate for a second, and Logan very almost buckles to the ground. He kisses along the bare side of his neck, starting at the junction where his collarbone is, biting down hard enough to tear into muscle.

The blood blends in lovely with the red lipstick, and Logan is panting like a fucking dog in heat.

"Mine, all mine," Wade repeats, and it's like everytime he says that magical little word, something punches into Logan's gut in the best possible way.

He kisses up to his jaw, then over his cheek, his tongue dragging over the kiss marks and smudging them a bit, making them messy.

Wade grins at him in the mirror, and Logan would smile back but his lips seem frozen in a permanent 'o' position as he watches Wade leave marks. As he watches them remain on his skin.

"Wade- daddy," he whimpers, and for the first time probably ever, he's the one who renders Wade speechless during sex, watches as his pupils expand so wide his eyes are practically black.

Wade is still on top of him, until a punched out breath leaves his lungs, his eyes rolling back a little, "jesus, Lo. Fuck," he mutters, and Logan blushes but feels distinctly proud of himself.

"Gonna fuck you so hard your healing can't keep up princess," kisses over his spine, and when Wade shoves him down a bit more, forcing his back to arch, he can see the trail of red left behind.

"Please," Logan breathes.

Wade takes his fingers out, brings both hands up to bracket Logan's hips, holding him firmly in place.

There's no lube involved when Wade pushes into him, and it burns. The stretch burns him from the inside out, but it feels so fucking good.

"So fucking tight. You feel like a damn virgin, you been saving yourself for me, Wolvie?" Wade's normally steady voice sounds a bit wild at the current moment, as he finally bottoms out. Logan moans at the fullness, squirming a little, holding his breath.

"Except no- because no virgin moans like the two dollar whore that you do. No virgin can handle a dick in their soaking cunt like you do, babygirl," Wade grunts, and Logan paws at the carpet, breathing heavy and uneven as every word makes that heat building low in his stomach even more intense.

Wade pulls back, then slams back in, holding him in place with nails digging into flesh, fucking him hard and fast and brutal.

Logan screams into the carpet. Wade grabs a fistful of his hair, yanking his head up, "fucking watch, bitch," he orders, never slowing or faltering in his rhythm.

Logan does. Sees the way Wade looks totally gone in his pleasure, thrusting ridiculously. Watches the way his body jerks with every movement, the red marks on his skin catching the sunlight, barely distinguishable from the ever so slightly darker shades of blood.

"I- I'm close, can- can I-" it's like Wade is pushing every word out of him, and Logan realises that he's going to come with his dick completely untouched, and that thought twists it so instead of his rapid run towards the end, he's barelling right past the finish line, and he should've came by now from the impossible tightness in his balls but it's like he physically couldn't. Like he needed Wade's permission and fuck, he really was his bitch in every sense of the word, wasn't he?

"You can come, baby," Wade says, and Logan does. Immediately. Like on fucking command, and he can hear Wade chuckling as his arms give out and he goes falling face first into the carpet, his lower half only staying up from Wade's impossibly tight hold.

He glances at their reflection, mouth dry as Wade continues to fuck into him, his thrusts getting more unsteady but no less forceful as he gets close.

Logan whimpers, his entire body tingling and oversensitive.

"Almost there, sweetheart. Want me to finish inside of you? Knock you up? Want everyone to see you with my baby in your belly and know you truly belong to me?"

And Logan really doesn't get how he manages it, because his dick was half softened, but he comes again, his stomach clenching in a way that hurts as his second consecutive orgasm rips through his utterly confused body.

He must black out, and Wade must come, because the next thing he knows is blinking through bleary eyes up at their ceiling, and it's like he's up there and floating, chest heaving with exertion.

"Lo? You back with me?"

Wade. Wade, he wants Wade. Needs him, now.

"I'm right here," Wade hums, pressing against him, and Logan whimpers, chasing his lips, eyes half lidded.

Wade kisses him all gentle, fingers scratching over his scalp, humming against his skin, "you look gorgeous, baby. Look," and he's tilting Logan's face slightly, just enough to see himself in the mirror.

He's still all marked up. All Wade's, and he makes a happy sound in the back of his throat.

"Are you purring?" Wade asks, incredulous but teasing, his tone light.

Somehow the glare Logan aims for is just a smile, and he tugs Wade in for another kiss.

He does have to shower eventually. They both do, when the come drying over their bodies becomes gross and sticky. The red is washed away, but Logan almost cries in relief when he discovers Wade was right about the staining.

It's subtle, slightly reddened spots on his skin which will likely remain for the next couple of showers, but Logan finds himself running his fingers along them throughout the day, smiling softly to himself.

And well - when they do fade into something no longer visible a couple of days later, Wade has no problem recreating them.

#smutsmutsmutsmut #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool #deadclaws #poolverine #wade wilson #logan/wade #logan howlett #logan wolverine #deadclaws fic #poolverine fic #smut #angst #asks #writing prompts #mywriting

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teddy06writes · 1 month ago

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Whumptober Masterlist/Overview

Hey guys! I'm going to be attempting to participate in Whumptober this year (though admittedly I did kind of mash together a few different prompt lists). I have about 20 days planned out right now, and I really hope to get through them, but no guarantees unfortunately, because I do have other stuff going on in my life. Also most of these are in fact just going to be hurt/comfort because I am a weak man. Also yes I am aware that the variation in these characters is kind of insane, don't come at me.

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Day One - Survivors Guilt/"It's not your fault." - Robert 'Bob' Floyd - An accident during a training hop leaves your WSO badly injured, and you can't help but blame yourself. Bob makes it his mission to convince you otherwise.

Day Two - Migraines - Darry Curtis - Juggling a migraine and the Curtis gang is not the easiest thing in the world. Luckily, Darry is there to come to your rescue and tell the others off

Day Three - Overstimulation - Diego Hargreeves - (1960s, autistic Reader) - Between the prison break, Diego's strange brother, and home movie footage showing the assassination of the president, your not sure how much more you can take.

Day Four- Field medicine/"Hang on, we're going to have to improvise." - Fili - Even with the battle beginning to turn in your favor, there are still many losses to come, no matter how hard you work to prevent them.

Day Five - "You don't need to earn this." - Tommy Shelby - When your surprises and gentle treatment catch Tommy by surprise, he questions what he'd done to deserve it.

Day Six - Hostile environment/"I don't know how anyone could survive that." - Alfie Solomons - (War Era, Male Reader) - A poorly planned attack leaves you stuck in no mans land. Even if you make it back to the so called "safety" of the English trenches, nothing will ever be the same.

Day Seven - Needles/Stitching - John Shelby - After being sent on another needless errand by his brother, John returns late, exhausted and bloody.

Day Eight - Panic Attack - Aaron Hotchner - When a case that hits too close to home has too many missing pieces, and seemingly no end, you can't help but fall prey to a growing sense of panic.

Day Nine - Falling Asleep in a hospital room - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw - When a training incident gone wrong lands Bradley in the hospital, you take it upon yourself to stay with him.

Day Ten - "Shhh, I've got you now, I'm here." - Alfie Solomons - Sabini's men kidnap you in a desperate attempt to get a leg up on your husband. When Alfie finds out, he's ready to burn the world down to get to you.

Day Eleven - Chronic pain - Boromir - The first day of a cold spell causes your pain to flare up, but you're determined to grit your teeth through the pain. Boromir however, is determined to get you to rest.

Days Twelve - Fourteen Break Days

Day Fifteen - Hiding an Injury - Aragorn - Somewhere in the thicket of Helms Deep, you're injured, but in the chaos that follows, doing anything about it seems to slip your mind.

Day Sixteen - "I did good, right?" - Umbrella Academy Unit - A mission gone wrong forces you to over use your powers, pushing you too far.

Day Seventeen - Bleeding Through Bandages - Kili - After being injured in escaping the Orcs, Oin does his best to heal you, but miles down the road, it doesn't seem to be enough.

Day Eighteen - Nightmare - Alfie Solomons - Night after night, you are plagued with nightmares, and Alfie seems to be the only thing that can cure them.

Day Nineteen - Scars - Diego Hargreeves - While patching Diego up after a fight, you see his scars for the first time.

Day Twenty - "Who did this to you?" - Dallas Winston - You get jumped, Dally plots revenge.

Day Twenty One - "You haven't done anything wrong." - Aaron Hotchner - (Autistic reader) - After a particularly long day, you find yourself overwhelmed and unsure. Luckily Aaron is there to help you calm down, no matter how much you protest.

Day Twenty Two - Chronic Pain (again) - Alife Solomons - Getting Alfie to take a day off when his sciatica is bothering him is a full time job.

Day Twenty Three - Exhaustion - Darry Curtis - Darry has been working himself to the utter bone. You take it upon yourself to make him rest.

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These might not get posted consecutively, but I'll do my best.

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itsjustrosee · 7 months ago

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hiii love, not sure if you’re taking requests for Minho (maze runner) but if you are, could you write one where shy fem reader gets caught in a situation where her shirt accidentally rips up in front of everyone in the glade (you can choose the interesting situation of how that occurs lol) and she is bare, then feels vulnerable cause the gladers start whistling and stuff but Minho immediately takes his shirt off and covers her to protect her.

She feels safe with him and he is protective of her even though they haven’t talk much as she hardly sees him cause he’s a runner- mutual pining ig 🥰. And maybe it could end in some spice hehehe

stop it this is literally such a cute prompt I squealed when I read this. And spice is my specialty so I'm glad you asked me to include that😜. I hope I've done your idea justice!! And yes I am always taking requests and looking for new things to write so honestly ask away!!

PROTECTIVE (Minho x fem!reader (one-shot))

Context: Pre Thomas, look for summary above ^

Warnings: Cursing and spice

Word count: 2.8k (sorry this one was a bit short)

! I proof read but there might still be spelling mistakes !

Being the only girl in the glade was definitely a struggle at times. Obviously Alby had set up rules and regulations for all of the other gladers to follow to try and make you feel as comfortable and welcomed in the glade as possible, but there was only so much he could do. Though no one had tried anything physical with you, you always found a way to overhear hushed conversations regarding you and your body.

However, during your time in the glade you were able to become close with Chuck, Newt, and a few other boys. You could always find yourself laughing and hanging out with them the way they did with everyone else. They never treated you differently just because you were a girl, which is what you had grown to greatly appreciate.

You had been in the glade for a little while. In fact, today had been the 4th month since your arrival, and you knew this because a new greenie ascended from the box this morning.

His reaction getting out of the box was to be expected. He gave the normal theatrics, looking like he was about to have a panic attack, asking question after question, and then actually having a panic attack. But unfortunately he was harder to calm down then most. And being keeper of the medjacks, and baring the title of, 'the caring one' around the glade, it was up to you to calm him down. You didn't mind it though, he was a really sweet kid and he didn't even look to be much older then Chuck.

"I feel bad for the poor greenie." Newt sighed before continuing. "I mean, I feel bad for everyone who has to come down here and deal with the whole 'trapped in a maze' bit, but he's just really young." Newt explained while he plucked a blade of grass from the ground and held it in his hand. You and Newt always tended to come and hang out by the garden whenever neither of you were out working. And because you were finally able to get the new guy to calm down, he was taking a nap on one of the beds in the medhut, and since the medhut had been particularly slow otherwise, you and Newt were able to talk a bit before dinner and the bonfire.

"Yeah, I get what you're saying." You say with an exhale. "It's still difficult to come to terms with this whole thing, even after being here for a few months." Newt gave you a silent nod after you said that and neither of you said anything afterwards.

Newt was always good company. Neither of you had to talk and fill the air with conversation because being silent around each other was almost comforting in a way.

The silence between the both of you had been broken though, when you both saw Minho and the rest of the runners run out of the maze and begin jogging towards you both, probably heading to the maze room. The maze doors began to close, incasing you in glade for yet another night.

As Minho passed you and Newt, he greeted both of you with a wave and continued to jog past you.

Though you have been in the glade for a bit, you and Minho had never really spoken to each other before. Your schedules definitely didn't allow for you guys to talk to each other, considering he was always in the maze and you were always in the medhut. However, there was something about him that totally drew you in, you just didn't know what it was.

"Someone has a crush, huh?" Newt said with a smirk as he turned his head to look at yours. Immediately you turned your attention back to Newt.

Shit you were totally staring at Minho just then.

"A crush? Your talking like a child right now Newt." You say with a bit of an attitude.

"Well it's not like you're denying it." Newt says with a chuckle as he begins to stand up from his sitting position on the ground.

"Oh slim it." You say while rolling your eyes and taking Newts hand as he helped you up so you can both start heading to dinner.

Both you and Newt woke up the greenie and took him to dinner, and the evening continued like any other. Everyone was welcoming of him and it was good to see him laughing and actually talking to people.

Eventually, Gally and a couple others began to set up for the bonfire, so you took the quick opportunity to freshen up in your hut. It was honestly really nice of Alby to force Gally and the other builders to make you one just so you felt like you had enough privacy.

You changed into a pair of shorts and changed out of your tank top. You put on one of your favorite/ only shirts, which was the perfect balance of baggy yet tight on you. It was going to get colder throughout the night so you wanted to have a bit more clothing on, and you also couldn't stand the idea of being in your tank top for another second. Definitely not after sweating your ass off in it the entire day.

You joined up with everyone else and soon the festivities began. Everyone, including yourself, was drinking Gally's very shity brew and of course the greenie almost puked after one sip. Needless to say, the drink was a bit of an acquired taste, but he would get used to it. Gally was playing that stupid wrestling game with the rest of the gladers and everything was going as per usual.

You had found yourself a seat on a bench next to Newt, and you allowed your back to rest on the bench, letting out a sigh as you began to relax. You sat closer to everyone else than where you would normally sit, because you were still trying to keep your eye on the greenie. Minho, Chuck, and a group of about 10 others were sat down with you on surrounding benches. Voices and jokes filled the air and your stomach began to hurt from laughing so much.

It was times like these that mattered most when you were in the glade. It reminded you that though you were all trapped here, at least you were making the best of it. Without this type of structure, you'd bet that even Alby would've gone mad by now.

"Hey I'm going to get another drink, do you mind coming with?" Newt asked me, already up out of his seat and in front of me.

"Yeah sure, I could use another glass anyways." You explained while taking his hand.

All of this would've been fine if your shirt hadn't snagged on a loose nail from the bench.

As newt pulled you up from your seat neither of you had realized what had happened until way too late, the damage was already done by that point. Your shirt wasn't made out of the best material, so the entire thing had completely ripped off of you.

So there you were. Stood in front of an enormous group of boys wearing nothing but your bra, which only provided the bare minimum amount of coverage.

Apparently the rip from your shirt was loud enough to earn the attention of everyone, even Gally's group who was stood further away from you. It took you, along with everyone else, a moment to fully comprehend the situation. And in that moment you would've been more then happy if a griever showed up and swallowed you whole. Nothing compared to the amount of embarrassment you were feeling in that moment. Especially not when you began to hear whistles and laughs from some of the boys.

By this point you had both of your hands covering your chest, and your mind was completely blank. What the hell were you even supposed to do in a situation like this? It would take you ages to live this down, and of course something like this had to happen right when you thought everyone was getting over the fact you were a girl.

Newt stood there staring at you along with everyone else in the group of people who were sitting with you. You could see a couple guys in front of you let out laugh a laugh, which only caused your eyes to well up with tears.

You had never cried in the glade. Not once. You couldn't let yourself.

You didn't cry when you arrived from the box, or even when you were ostracized for being the only girl. But still you couldn't help but feel so utterly humiliated.

Even though it had felt like you stood there on display for hours, it had only been at least five seconds since your shirt had ripped off. Before anyone else could turn their heads to look at you, Minho got up suddenly.

He took his shirt off quickly while walking over to you, and you took your arms away from your chest, allowing him to pull his shirt onto you so you were no longer stood half naked in front of anyone. You were shocked by his gesture. Out of all the people in the glade, you had never thought he would be the one to protect you like this, but you were thanking god he did.

As he stood towering over you for a couple more seconds you couldn't help but take in what he looked like shirtless. And jeez, lets just say all this running he does pays off. He looked like he had been carved out of stone by the gods. His abs looked chiseled on, and you were going absolutely feral for it. In the most respectful way possible though of course.

Half of the glade looked just as shocked as you, and the rest looked disappointed. You heard groans and curses from Gally's group, as if they were annoyed with Minho.

"Oh come on Minho, you really had to ruin it for everyone, huh?" Gally said, and it was obvious that he was already through multiple glasses of his moonshine. His snarky comment was warranted by a couple of snickers and laughs from the other boys sitting with him. Minho turned around to face him and at this point they were stood with a bit of distance between each other, but still not much. And it was safe to say that Minho looked like he was about to maul Gally.

"What did you just say?" Minho questioned, his voice dark and menacing as he began taking steps towards Gally.

"Oh what, you going to defend your girlfriend?" Gally contested while slurring and hiccupping between words, getting in Minho's face as he said it.

"She doesn't have to be my girlfriend for me to treat her like a normal shucking person, Gally." Minho said while firmly standing his ground.

It was quiet for a moment before any other response was made. You and the rest of the glade were just staring at them, and honestly you were thankful that the attention was finally off of you.

If it wasn't for Alby pulling the two boys apart, the night would've ended with someone bloody and bruised, and someone, or both of them, ending up in the pit.

Alby pushed Gally away and grabbed onto Minho's shoulder as he led Minho back over to me. "Minho take (Y/N) back to her hut and get her situated. I'll deal with Gally." Alby says, clearly annoyed with what the night had turned into.

You and Minho both silently began walking back to your hut. You wanted to thank him, you needed to thank him, but you just didn't know how you were going to. As he opened the door to your hut and both of you stepped in, he closed the door and you just stood looking at him. You were still flustered from him being, you know, without a shirt, but you had to compose yourself.

"Thank you Minho. For um- you know, giving me your shirt and stuff." You say while looking at the ground, your cheeks red from embarrassment as you painfully recall the whole situation.

"It was no problem really." Minho said as you looked back up at him.

"Yeah it's just- I don't know what I would've done without you-" And although it sounded cliché, you meant it. Your voice began to break after trying to continue, your words getting caught in your throat. Before you could compose yourself enough to say anything else, Minho brought you into his arms gently, and hugged you. His warm embrace made you feel safe and secure, and immediately your worries washed away as you hugged him harder. You buried your head into his chest and wrapped your arms around his waist and he wrapped his around yours.

You could've stayed like that for hours, but you forced your head away from his chest and looked up at him, staring deep into his eyes and he did the same. There was a thick tension in the air as you felt the temperature in your hut increase.

Minho tucked a piece of your hair back behind your ear, "I'll always be here to protect you." Minho says while giving you a genuine smile, your stomach doing somersaults as you completely folded under his gaze. As your eyes followed his for a moment longer, you noticed them glance at your lips and before you could even process it, he kissed you.

You stood there shocked and bewildered, this night had been an absolute rollercoaster of fucking emotions and you were not prepared for it once so ever.

After not reciprocating the kiss Minho pulled away, "I'm sorry I didn't mean to- I don't want it to seem like I'm taking advantage of you or something- I-" But before he could finish his sentence you kissed him back, your lips merging into his completely, as if you were two magnets that were completely drawn together naturally.

The kiss was passionate yet gentle, and you practically melted into him. You let his tongue explore the inside of your mouth and your lips worked against his in unison. For all you knew, Minho was the first boy you had ever kissed, and you were totally fine with that. You didn't even need to kiss any other boy to know that Minho did it best.

You took one of your hands and kept it on his back, caressing his muscles on his upper back. While your other hand found it's way to his nape and you began to take his hair between your fingers, tugging at them more whenever he kissed you harder.

He kept one of his hands by your waist and the other at your back, trying to bring you as close to him as he possibly could. He held you as if you were the only thing worth holding onto, and he was never willing to let you go.

You could feel the heat radiating off of Minho as he pinned you against one of the walls in your hut next to the door. You were left completely breathless once Minho pulled away, biting at your bottom lip as he then continued to kiss you down your jaw. You could feel him begin to suck at the sensitive part part of skin between your neck and collar bone, causing a small whimper to escape your mouth.

Minho continued to kiss down your collar bone and as low as your shirt's neck line would let him. You could feel his kisses become more sloppy and desperate. It was as if he couldn't wait to get his hands on more of you, and you couldn't wait to give yourself in to him.

You pushed him off and quickly took off your shirt, tossing it to the ground as Minho stared at you. He put his arms around you again and smirked as he began to kiss you, more hungrily this time.

"I'll never let anyone else in the glade see you like this again. I promise." He said between kisses. The sincerity in his voice was prominent.

You could tell that all of what Minho had said was true. If any other boy tried to touch you, or even look at you in the wrong way, he would be there to protect you.

In that moment you had realized that no one would be able to make you feel the way Minho made you feel. He satisfied all of your desires and he fulfilled you in ways you didn't even know were possible. You were everything he wanted, and he was everything you wanted. But more importantly, he made you feel safe, like as long as you were in his arms he would never let anything bad happen to you.

Then suddenly, there was a nock on the door. Then it swung open abruptly.

"Hey um (Y/N), I really wanted to apologize for earlier-" But before Gally could say anything else, he turned his head and saw you and Minho, half naked and pressed against each other.

"Oh shuck- I didn't mean to- I'll leave now." And with that, he was out of the door as quickly as he entered it.

ok guys heres another!! I really hoped that yall liked it. I had quite the fun time writing this and I think it turned out pretty well!

btw I'm going to start working on pt.2 to stranded, and I should have it finished relatively soon, but I've never written smut before so that's going to be quite interesting. But seriously thank you to everyone who wrote nice things under that post you have no idea how much it means to me ❤️❤️

#the maze runner #tmr #minho tmr x reader #minho the maze runner #minho tmr #x reader #tmr fandom #tmr fanfic #minho fic

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frenchkisstheabyss · 1 year ago

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♡ Wearing Baggy Clothes Around SKZ {Chubby Babe Edition}♡

♡ I was asked to explore how these cuties might feel about having a girlfriend who wears baggy clothes 24/7 because it makes her comfy, not because she's insecure. So let's get into it... ♡

Pairing: ot8!boyfriend!skz x chubby!fem!reader

Genre: fluffy fluff ♡

♡ Bang Chan ♡

Your choice to wear baggy clothing isn't something he's ever given a second thought to

Duh, he thinks you have a beautiful body but it's 100% your choice if you want to show it off or not

It's actually really nice having a girlfriend who has the same fashion sense as him because he doesn't feel pressured to dress more revealing either

Whenever companies offer to send him free stuff he makes sure he asks for a size that works for both of you that way you have a few items that you can share/wear when you miss each other

♡ Hyunjin ♡

Being fashionable to him has never translated to having to wear tighter clothes so he still finds what you wear to be quite cute

When he goes to special events he likes to take you with him but he'll never get upset with you if you choose not to wear what's "in" at the moment

He puts a lot of effort into helping you pick out fashion week worthy outfits that keep you looking as gorgeous as you do without compromising comfort

If anyone ever says anything rude to you about it they're catching some major side eye from him coupled with some colorful language

♡ Changbin ♡

This is it. Dwaekki's chance to talk you into wearing matching gym clothes even when you aren't even kinda sorta heading to the gym that day

When I say matching, I mean matching. Whatever he has, you have the women's version of and it will be worn when you're together. I don't make the rules here

If you ever decide to change your mind about how you want to dress he'll support you 100% in rocking something tighter/more revealing

But he'll never pressure you into doing anything you don't want to do. The most important thing to him is that you're happy, whatever that looks like for you

♡ Lee Know ♡

Outfits that have too much going on agitate him when it comes to what his stylists put on him so he understands completely why you wouldn't want to deal with that

He pretends that he doesn't want to be touched around other people but he really likes cuddles and your clothes make cuddling better for him

Every time Soonie, Doongi, or Dori make biscuits on the dangling fabric of your clothing he thinks it's super adorable. Best cat step-mom ever

Has a habit of always rolling your sleeves/pants/etc up for you when you're about to do something that might be messy so that they fit snugly in the right places

♡ Felix ♡

At first, he asks a lot of questions to make sure that you aren't doing this because you're insecure about your body

It's not done to imply that you should be. He just wants to know if you are so that he can remind you more often that you're beautiful and that anyone who says otherwise can bite you

After that though, he lets it go and starts to do things like slipping into your hoodie with you even though there's no way he's getting his head out of the other end

Ultimately, he encourages you to go even bigger because how can he be properly attached to you at the hip if there isn't room for two all the time?

♡ Han ♡

This is absolutely going to turn into a lengthy conversation about how a lot of women in the old school hip hop scene chose to dress this way too

He's bound to get sidetracked talking about certain artists who wore things he thinks you'd look cute in. Some of it might be hideous. Just nod and smile

It's cool because he gets to be as physically affectionate as he wants to be with you in public without worrying that he'll make a wrong move and something slips out

The day will never come when it isn't adorable to him that you can curl up in your clothes like a lil cat. Just this cozy, warm ball of cuteness

♡ I.N ♡

It's in his spirit to take advantage of the fact that baggier clothes make you easier to grab

Meaning, if you try to run away when he's inevitably doing something to get on your nerves he'll catch you immediately and you'll be trapped with him

This isn't a bad thing because, even when he's torturing you, it's impossible not to see how much he cares about you

The other guys tend to tease him about how smitten he is with you and how cool he thinks you are but that'll never stop him from acting that way

♡ Seungmin ♡

Your face is what he spends most of his time staring at anyway so it's no big deal that you don't wear revealing clothing

It's kind of a good thing that you don't because he can be a real brat when other guys are staring at you and you aren't sure how long he can resist the urge to poke their eyes out

Of course, he can get over that jealousy so that you feel supported in switching it up sometimes

Though he will playfully tease you about being his "other girlfriend" when you switch back and forth because being a menace comes with the territory

#stray kids fluff #stray kids x you #stray kids headcanons #stray kids x reader #stray kids x chubby reader #chubby reader #plus size reader #lee felix x reader #bang chan x reader #hyunjin x reader #han jisung x reader #changbin x reader

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mostlysignssomeportents · 10 months ago

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Tabs give me superpowers

Berliners: Otherland has added a second date (Jan 28) for my book-talk after the first one sold out - book now!

"Lifehacking" is in pretty bad odor these days, and with good reason: a once-useful catch-all for describing how to make things easier has become a pit of productivity porn, grifter hustling, and anodyne advice wreathed in superlatives and transformed into SEO-compliant listicles.

But I was there when lifehacking was born, and I'm here to tell you, it wasn't always thus. Lifehacking attained liftoff exactly 19 years and 348 days ago, on Feb 11, 2004, when Danny O'Brien presented "Life Hacks: Tech Secrets of Overprolific Alpha Geeks" at the 0'Reilly Emerging Technology Conference (aka ETCON). I was there, and I took notes:

https://craphound.com/lifehacksetcon04.txt

O'Brien's inspiration was his social circle, in which people he knew to be no smarter or better or motivated than anyone else in that group were somehow able to do much more than their peers, in some specific domain. O'Brien delved deeply into these peoples' lives and discovered that each of them had merely ("merely!") gotten very good at using one or two tools to automate things that would otherwise take up a lot of their time.

These "hacks" freed up their practitioners to focus on things that mattered more to them. They accomplished the goal set out in David Allen's Getting Things Done: to make a conscious choice about which things you are going to fail to do today, rather than defaulting to doing the things that are easy and trivial, at the expense of the things that matter, but are more complicated:

https://gettingthingsdone.com/what-is-gtd/

One trait all those lifehacks shared: everyone who created a little hack was faintly embarrassed by it, and assumed that others who learned about their tricks would find them trivial or foolish. O'Brien changed the world by showing that other people were, in fact, delighted and excited to learn about their peers' cool little tricks.

(Unfortunately, this eventually opened the floodgates of overheated posts about some miraculous hack that turned out to indeed be silly and trivial or even actively bad, but that wasn't O'Brien's fault!)

I'm one of those people whom others perceive as very "productive." There are some objective metrics on which this is true: I wrote nine books during lockdown, for example. Like the lifehackers O'Brien documented in 2004, I have lots of little hacks that aren't merely a way of getting more done – they're a way to make sure that I get the stuff that matters to me (taking care of my family and my health, and writing books) done.

A lot of these lifehacks boil down to making your life easier. There's a spot on our kitchen counter where I put e-waste. Whenever I go out to the car, I carry any e-waste out and put it in a bag in the trunk. Any time I'm near our city dump, I stop and throw the bag into their e-waste bin. This is now a habit, and habits are things you get for free: I spend zero time thinking about e-waste, which means I have more time to think about things that matter (and our e-waste still ends up in the right place).

There's other ways I use habits to make my life easier: after many years, I learned how to write every day:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/22/walking-the-plank/

For longer-form works like novels, I "leave myself a rough edge," finishing the day's work in the middle of a sentence. That way I get a few words for free the next day, meaning I never start the day's work wondering which words I'll type:

https://locusmag.com/2014/01/cory-doctorow-cheap-writing-tricks/

One of the most powerful habits I've cultivated is to have a group of daily tabs that I open in a new browser every morning. The meat of this tab group is websites I want to check in with every day, either because they don't have RSS feeds, or because I want to make sure I never miss an update.

This tab-group habit started before RSS was widespread, when most of the websites I wanted to check in on every day didn't have feeds yet, and for many years, this group was just a set of daily reads. But over the years, I started throwing things in the tab-group that I needed to stay on top of.

My daily tabs are in a folder called "unfucked rota" (they were originally in a folder called "rota," which got corrupted and had to be reconstructed in a folder I called "fucked rota," until I finally took a couple hours off and got it in good running order, hence "unfucked rota"). As I type this, "unfucked rota" contains more than a hundred websites I visit every morning, but it also contains:

The edit-history pages for four Wikipedia entries I'm watching;

Chronological feeds of my books on Amazon and Audible, to catch counterfeits as they are posted;

The parent notification portal for my kid's school;

The mileage history for the airline I flew on yesterday (I'll delete this once the flight is posted);

The credit card history for a card I reported a fraudulent charge on (I'll delete this once the refund is posted);

The sell-pages for three products that are out of stock (I'll delete these once the products are in stock and ordered);

A bookmarked newest-first Ebay search for a shirt I like that has been discontinued by the manufacturer;

The new-survey-completed pages for my last two Kickstarters;

The courier tracking page for an item being shipped sea-freight to me from Asia.

The tail end of this unfucked rota changes all the time, but as you can tell, it's got a lot of stuff that would be time-consuming to build a whole new system to track, but which has a web-page that can be easily added to a daily, habitual check-in and then removed when it's not relevant anymore.

Some of these things have email notifiers or RSS feeds, but those are too easy to lose in the noise. I generally delete email from ecommerce sites unread, since 99.99% of the messages they send me are unsolicited marketing nonsense, not the "notify me when this is back in stock" message I do want to see (same goes for my kid's school, which sends me fifty unimportant messages for every message that I must reply to).

Most of the internet is still on the web, which means it can be bookmarked, which means that it takes me one second to add it to the group of things I'm staying on top of, and one second to remove from that group. I get up in the morning, middle-click the "unfucked rota" item in my bookmarks pane, make a cup of coffee, and then sit down and race through those tabs, close-close-close.

It takes less than a second to scan a tab to see if it's changed (and if I close a tab too quickly, the ctrl-shift-T "unclose" shortcut is there in muscle-memory, another habit). The whole process takes between one and 15 minutes (depending on whether there's anything useful and new in one of those tabs).

Tabs, like lifehacks, are also in bad odor. Everyone stresses about how many tabs they have open. It's even inspired Rusty Foster's excellent newsletter, Today In Tabs:

https://www.todayintabs.com/

But this is a very different way to think about tabs. Rather than opening a window full of tabs that need your detailed, once-off attention later, this method is about using groups of tabs so that you can pay cursory, frequent attention to them.

In a world full of administrative burdens, where firms and institutions play the "sure, we'll do that, but you're going to have to track our progress" game to get out of living up to their obligations, this method is a powerful countermeasure:

https://memex.craphound.com/2015/02/02/david-graebers-the-utopia-of-rules-on-technology-stupidity-and-the-secret-joys-of-bureaucracy/

My little tab habit is so incredibly useful, such a powerful way to seize back time and power from powerful actors who impose burdens on me, that I sometimes forget how, for other people, tabs are a symptom of a life that's spiraling out of control. For me, a couple hundred tabs are a symbol of a couple hundred tasks that I'm totally on top of, a symbol of control wrestled back from others who are hostile to my interests.

This isn't how tabs were "meant" to be used, of course. It's an example of the kind of "innovation" that comes from users repurposing things in ways their designers didn't necessarily anticipate or intend.

This is what Jonathan Zittrain meant by "generative" technology back in 2008, when he published his incredibly prescient The Future of the Internet: And How To Stop It:

https://memex.craphound.com/2008/07/22/zittrains-the-future-of-the-internet-how-to-save-the-internet-from-the-internet/

For Zittrain, "generativity" was the property of some technologies that let its users generate new, useful tools and solutions for themselves (this is very different from "generative AI!")

Zittrain described how "curated" computing systems, like mobile devices that relied on apps that couldn't be adapted by their users, were dead ends for generativity. 15 years later, the dismal world of apps has proven him right:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/24/everything-not-mandatory/#is-prohibited

To the extent that "lifehacking" is about doing more, rather than being more deliberate about what you accomplish, it can be harmful. I am not immune to the failure modes of lifehacking:

https://locusmag.com/2017/11/cory-doctorow-how-to-do-everything-lifehacking-considered-harmful/

But overall, using tabs as something I close, rather than something I open, is a source of comfort and calm for me. For one thing, ripping through a group of tabs every morning means that I don't have to worry about missing something if I go too fast. I'll get another chance tomorrow:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/27/probably/

Decades ago, Dori Smith dubbed her pioneering blog her "#Backup Brain":

https://web.archive.org/web/20020120231027/http://www.backupbrain.com/

At their best, our systems – be they physical, like a spot on the counter where the e-waste goes, or digital, like a tab-group – are "congitive prostheses." They allow us to move important things from the highly contested, busy and precious space between our ears and out there into the world:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/09/the-memex-method/

Like those lifehackers that O'Brien studied for his presentation in 2004, I confess to feeling a little silly about telling you all about this. For me, this habit of decades is so ingrained that it feels trivial and obvious. And yet, when I look at people in my life struggling to stay on top of a million nagging administrative tasks that could be easily watched through a morning's flick through a tab-group, I can't help but think that maybe some of you will find a useful idea or two in my unfucked rota.

I'm Kickstarting the audiobook for The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There's also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/25/today-in-tabs/#unfucked-rota

#pluralistic #productivity #life hacks #mozilla #firefox #open web #systems #getting things done #externalized memory #outboard brain #generativitiy

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meanbossart · 5 months ago

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Ask Compilation: Advice, influences and Misc.

Apologies for taking so long on some of these, admittedly I'm much more likely to entirely forget about asks that are about me and my interests 💃 Thank you for all the questions regardless! And thank you specially to everyone who just drops nice messages into my inbox out of kindness.

I'm brazillian and a native portuguese speaker!

I'll probably return to twitter eventually, but a) I hate that place and b) It didn't make much sense to me to turn it into a BG3 account out of the blue. I am considering making an Instagram or a new twitter just to have more places where people can follow in case they don't care for tumblr, but it's just been a very busy year so far and so that's kind of low on the list of priorities. If I ever do that I'll be sure to announce it here. Have a nice day yourself!

Sorry to hear that! I've gotten a few messages before about this issue, and the problem is that since I am myself not from the US, my options are also limited :( a lot of patreon alternatives don't work for me because they either don't go through paypal, take insane currency conversion fees, or just straight up block me from signing up.

Speak for yourself, I just assume everyone I speak to online has committed some sort of atrocious crime until proven otherwise. Except for me - of course. I have never done anything bad in my life.

I still have a lot to learn! But I will basically use whatever works for me at the moment, as well as make a sincere effort to learn about musculature and anatomy so I can understand those components and how they move, instead of only knowing what they look like when still - that's how you get better at drawing from memory. Volume mostly comes from coloring and understanding light, which is it's own beast but can very much be learned from similar reference materials and observing it IRL!

My favorite places to get reference are medical diagrams, weird pictures I take of myself, 3D software (often Virt-a-mate) and questionably phrased image google searches.

My favorite artists are Jason Shawn Alexander and Sean Murphy, but I'm not sure how much of it reflects in my art nowadays! I generally seek to pick up techniques from artists rather than to emulate style.

Honestly I love that you guys generally do the thing he would hate the most: take him very non-seriously LOL

I've been in a real Chelsea Wolfe and Amyl And The Sniffers kick lately! But usually you'll also find me listening to stuff like Boy Harsher, Swans, FWF, JK Flesh Lingua Ignota, Nick Cave, David Bowie, and so on. Music for the weird gays, basically.

I went insane and wrote a 23-chapter-long-and-still-ongoing fic in like four months. But also - I'm not that good, I'm just shamelessly pretentious LOL

Hm. That's a good question, but I'm not really sure. Sincerely not trying to be a edgier-than-thou here (in fact, this has made me a little self conscious at one time or another) but a lot of art that I don't mean to be horror-y in nature at all has been associated with the genre. So perhaps I don't know what I'm doing either, LOL.

I think just leaning on making things look slightly "wrong" or "ugly" on purpose is the way, but I also find that if you just seek to depict people as they are instead of idealized versions of themselves, you will arrive at that either way.

Thank you for reading! Honestly, I'm guilty of having not read much at all since I was in my late teens, and the style I'm employing for ANE is very different from the things I would call "influential" for me, or even that I used to enjoy reading at all before. I read a lot of Chuck Palahniuk as a youth (and, no slight to people who do like him still, but nowadays I'm not sure why I ever did. His stories don't speak to me at all anymore) as well a lot of weird experimental lit that I didn't even care to remember the name of. My last book stint from one or two years ago was composed solely of historical and medical literature, and last year I got really into Cormac Mcarthy thanks to the internet.

So, all in all, I'm absolutely all over the place LOL if you put a gun to my head and told me to list my favorite books, I'd say The Indifferent Stars Above and Blood Meridian.

(Consider the reading portion of the question to have been answered above) I really really liked Beau is Afraid and think it's a really great "horror" movie. Sue me.

#ask compilation #ask

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menlove · 4 months ago

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What do you think actually happened between John and Paul that caused John to become so bitter and vindictive towards Paul? If I remember correctly, the prevailing theory of John being rejected by Paul was actually conceived to retroactively 'explain ' John's behavior because otherwise it seems inexplicable why he would turn on so completely on the person who had been arguably his closest friend, if not lover. However, it's evident from Paul's lyrics and interview to Hunter Davies that he is entirely confused and hurt by John's behavior. Like he even complains everyone always looks to him for blame but nobody sees how much he was hurt by John. I'm not trying to take any sides here of course, both John and Paul had their faults and issues which complicated their relationship but genuinely curious to hear what your theory is.

honestly? bpd. like I barely even think of it as a theory, although ofc it is, bc sooooo many people agree that john could have Easily been diagnosed w bpd

like there's a thing called splitting w bpd where you just. like on a Dime you can't stand someone. and this can be very brief (I've split on people and it lasted like an hour) or permanent but it's very common. like you go every quickly from idealization to demonization of a person. or complete apathy (which is my personal kryptonite rip)

not only that but there's quite a few paul quotes where he talks about the fact that john started "slagging him off" as a way to distance himself from paul/the beatles and sort of "prove" to yoko that he was entirely devoted to her. which also makes sense to me as a bpd cunt bc I've unfortunately done that too 😭 and it's not necessarily an act either, it's just like.......... your brain can't make room for the way you feel for a New Person and an Old Person so you start analyzing everything that Old Person did and finding every flaw and magnifying it and blowing it up until you start feeling bitter or angry and suddenly in your mind someone that was once your world is like. some kind of villain out of a storybook.

and this is very very difficult to deal with and he wasn't really........ getting any help or outside people telling him that his view of paul/the beatles was being distorted. yoko was also pretty paranoid & from several sources encouraged his bitterness/paranoia (which isn't a dunk on her- I'm just a firm believer that she was a Complicated Person and villifying OR deifying is just weird and racist). not to Mention the scream therapy stuff, where I'm Pretty sure he himself has even said he was encouraged to pick apart his life and relationships and find Issues.

so you've got someone whose brain is already a goddamn game of mouse trap telling him that if he's not w paul/the beatles anymore he Has to hate him, surrounded by people encouraging that line of thought, and hounded by media asking him about it and pitting him against paul

and with that in mind, I do think it was also a bit exaggerated by the media. it was definitely encouraged, that's for sure. but even if john didn't Hate Paul, that's how it would be portrayed bc it made a more dramatic and interesting story. they'd ask him (and paul) leading questions to get the most material.

I honestly don't find it inexplicable that he'd turn on him without a "reason" so maybe my own mouse trap of a brain is part of why I disagree so much w that dominant narrative of rejection to explain it 😭 bc for me and many other bpd cunts I know it's just. it could Literally be nothing. often it's just a SENSE of rejection that will cause a split. and I'm willing to bet that their growing distance, paul pushing the band harder to work after brian died, paul not really accepting yoko and johnandyoko, the possible dying out of a sexual aspect of their relationship, paul proposing to jane & later getting with/marrying linda, paul Accepting john's ask for a divorce, paul going out and making an album on his own....... well. it's a perfect storm for my fellow bpd bitch to go "well fuck him I never loved him that guy fucking sucks and whatever he does doesn't hurt me anyway bc I don't care At All he's just the absolute worst and I can't stand him"

which of course had to be whiplash for paul. from his pov it was genuinely out of nowhere. but I will say all his comments about it and john needing to put him/the beatles aside for yoko and just..... all his quotes around john's mental health seem to be very VERY aware of all this. he knew john better than anyone & his main confusion seems to be around whether or not john ever actually loved or even liked him. which is an understandable emotional reaction. I think, though, he does show a deep understanding of john when he talks about all of this which makes me soooo :(

#mclennon #like shdhshsh just as someone w bpd I have to sit there like the duck chuckling gif sometimes #bc like yeah sometimes you Can just randomly hate someone you adored like a month ago #it's hell in here it sucks and it feels sort of like you've been thrown off a cliff

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nthspecialll · 16 days ago

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Any tips for writing Arthur in fan fiction? I love your analyses and such which is why I’m wondering haha. And do you reckon that Arthur could fall in love again or do you think he would always consider Mary his one true love/soulmate?

Firstly, thank you, glad you like my stuff! Secondly, yes I do believe Arthur could fall in love again but it would take time.

Mary has for probably been hopping in and out of Arthur's life for the majority of the years after he met her, then they broke up and Arthur was kind of left with a big wound, but like all wounds, it would heal with time. If Mary had stayed out of his life, then yes I do think he would have had the chance to fall in love again, but it would also require the gang being a bit more stable. They are his top priority, which is also why he says he would run away with her after everything was done.

With time and stablity, I do believe Arthur could fall in love again.

Now how to write him, of course you can always write the fannon Arthur but since you are here I am thinking you want a more cannon Arthur. Remember he is a man of his time, especially when it seems like you might be writing some kind of shipping/x reader/x oc. If he is dating someone fem, he is going to apply gender roles because he is a huge believer of them. He will expecting that he is the provider and that his partner will take care of house, child, whatever (he would help if needed but they are the lovers main priority).

There is also the fact he is quite disrespectful many times, mostly in the form of weird one-liners but also he is cronically late, Sean even says "That man will be late to his own funeral."

I got a post with most of the glorifications that people make of Arthur:

But otherwise, he is a nice man, he is progressive for his time, he would be an absolute sweetheart to his lover, like we can see with Mary he softens up quite a bit, and you know this man would be loyal to the core.

He can be a funny fella, he loves animals, he loves nature and unlike some of the other gang members, he wants to settle, he just needs to make sure the others don't need him.

#rdr2 #rdr2 community #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption community #john marston #rdr john #red dead fandom #answered asks #ask #asks #nthspecialll asks #nth

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diamondcitydarlin · 3 months ago

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I don't think I'm going to say anything here that hasn't been said better a million times by other fans, but I feel as someone who has been a fan and supporter of his for an upwards of 20+ years now (so like, most of my fucking life) I need to. As a victim of SA myself, I need to. As someone who frequently sang his praises, reblogged his snarky commentary, spoke with him a few times, never thought a bad thing about him before now, and otherwise lauded him a 'safe person' (without good reason, I now realize) I need to. Staying silent indefinitely just doesn't feel acceptable.

(Under the read more is stuff that might be triggering, but is largely personal)

I took my time because for a long while after this broke I had to deal with my own feelings of grief. I know for some that sounds weird, but learning that someone you thought was a good person is in fact not a good person and was very likely just always putting that 'good person' mask on for show, finally seeing the truth of them does feel like a death- the death of the person you thought they were, the death of a person you came to like and respect that never existed in the first place. There was a divorce of identities I had to make there in my mind. I think that's the denial phase, right? Except I never wanted to deny the victims' stories, as much as I didn't want to believe any of it was true.

Of course, what else is true is that I never really knew him. Most of us didn't (even some who were actual close friends with him apparently). We accepted the personality he presented to us as a genuine person who laid all his cards on the table, assuming that this meant there couldn't be darker sides to him that he was carefully hiding so as to ensnare more victims. It seemed unthinkable. Until it wasn't. Until it was exposed to those of us who didn't already know about the underground whisper campaign of his predatory behavior and so much of what he did and said in the past years now seem unavoidably creepy. But they didn't back then. How could they? (Here's one- He has a 'bathtime' tag on his blog that he apparently used to get fans to take pictures of themselves reading his books while taking baths. Most of the 'bathtime' fan pictures he reblogged were of young women in close to NSFW/spicy bath positions with his books. This was around 2012 and it's blowing my mind that I didn't see the creepiness of that then)

This is about the time in my thoughts that I've started pivoting towards my own personal responsibility in the situation, as I have before when I've found myself in an unfair or victim position. Not to overly blame or be critical of myself for not knowing things I genuinely had no idea about until they became public, not to blame myself for being lied to as millions of fans were by a bad person, and definitely not to blame others for what happened, but rather to regain some kind of control in the future over a situation that feels very much out of my control (and ofc it is, on the whole).

While famous people being 'cancelled'/revealed as monsters using their platform to reel in victims is nothing new, I still allowed myself to be charmed and carried away by the persona Gaiman put forth publicly, allowed myself to think that THIS time it'd be different, not all famous men, etc, to the point that despite this being a clear pattern of behavior for a number of people in positions of power/wealth, I still allowed myself to believe and wholeheartedly accept that it could never be him.

Well, as far as I'm concerned, that's done with. While I will still have famous creators/actors/artists etc that I will go on 'liking', I have to remember from here on out that I don't REALLY know them, no matter how genuine or down to earth or open they seem, I do not know them or what they might be capable of (or have already done) and I cannot let myself fall into a feeling of personal trust with someone I don't fucking know just because I like their work and because they might SEEM like a decent person. It was never my conscious intention to put Neil or anyone else on a pedestal or think of them as gods or something, but even in assuming that everything he did and said publicly was genuine, I ended up putting him there anyway and it blinded me to who he really was, the signs of which were there from the fucking start, now looking back. I can't again let my unwillingness to face red flags keep me from fucking seeing them.

And, unfortunately, from now on I am going to be hyper-suspicious of famous people that ingratiate themselves into fandom spaces as though they're part of the group. As fun as it was to believe a creator could coexist alongside us without nefarious intentions, that was clearly just a fantasy. I'm not saying it would always be that way, or that anyone who interacts with their fans is a positive way is trying to prey on them, but the level to which Neil interacted with his fans and the fandoms therein should be regarded with a bit more suspicion in the future, I feel. We have to ask ourselves why a creator would be SO immersed, what are they hoping to gain, particularly if most of their fans are young and impressionable? Sure, their intentions could be pure, but there are a lot of predatory reasons for a much-loved creator with huge swaths of fans to try to ingratiate himself in their spaces and that's worth considering in future when someone is trying to be Mr. Popularity- I'm not naive enough, especially not now, to think that it won't happen again with someone else.

Anyway, this is all, the last thing I'm going to (try) to say about him and my feelings on this issue, because as a fan that wasn't directly preyed on by him but is feeling a sense of grief for personal reasons, my voice isn't nearly as important as those of people who were direct victims of his predation. Those are the ones we should be listening to and amplifying, especially as it seems likely even more women will come forward in their future.

I'm furious and disgusted and so so sad for all the women that were made to suffer from his manipulation. I'm sorry no one was willing to listen to them until now.

#neil gaiman allegations #yes this is about NG #I don't really want to get into arguments or discussions about this unless someone is looking for support #this is just kind of a reflective piece i felt needed to be on here for as long and as much as i've fanned over him #and also to remind me not to make similar mistakes in future

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utilitycaster · 5 days ago

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anyway. taking an extended break to get some stuff done but Veilguard Findings:

I do get kind of carsick from video games it turns out, though some of that is that I am just not good at any controls so I keep making the camera flail wildly, and frankly I think movement should be exclusively point and click. It is getting better and I'm taking breaks and drinking a lot of water, so on some level this is probably doing wonders for my hydration. Advice would not be unwelcome, however;

I am also so bad at combat but I'm in Story Mode so whomst cares. I've sort of figured out how to like, manage my companions' strategy but I literally do not know if I am activating abilities. it's pure mouse/keysmash land out here. This is fine because I am in fact here for the story and making decisions that make Neve disapprove of me, almost all the time.

I'm also literally just bad at video games because it is not a thing I have done, so like, it does not necessarily occur to me outright to just fucking slash the rickety wooden gate open instead of climb over. I am improving on this however.

I am not romancing Neve bc I want her and Lucanis to romance each other, but man she's doing it for me. She is also by FAR the most judgmental companion so far. Literally she disapproves of SO much. I love her.

Harding and Bellara are both very endearing. I am aware of most of the NPC/NPC romances and think they sound fun which means I'm going to romance Bellara, who doesn't have a romance otherwise, and also bc she is smart and beautiful. Unfortunately I have had zero opportunities to do this so far.

Rook out here hating the nobility; this is very fun.

I love Strife, he is so done with everyone's bullshit.

I also like that it's literally Girls Night so far. Just girly things (shooting pure fade at ogres, freezing blight, getting possessed by ancient daggers).

Minrathous sucks. sorry Neve. I haven't gone to docktown specifically yet, but like. Bellara lives in a beautiful magic forest and you live in Cyberpunk Hell.

Has someone made a mod that makes all the helper spirits look like Clippy. they should. "you look like you're trying to enter the Crossroads! Do you need help with that?"

first solas conversation made me want to stab him. second one was actually fucking great.

I've heard that the dialogue is cheesy and I need to stress AGAIN, I'm new to this medium but I'm an old hand at epic/heroic fantasy and sorry that you hate heightened dramatic dialogue and detest fun, I'm enjoying myself greatly.

I keep picking the honest or tough options for dialogue. very stoic and direct out here. the drama mask options do NOT do it for me.

#m guards the veil #hoping to gather lucanis after i do errands/have dinner

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vasito-de-leche · 9 months ago

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iff its still alright for requests then maybe somethingg small n maybe sleepy with forget me not ? nothing specific otherwise just

sleepy eeby forget me not fic. either that or wrangling his soggy ass to sleep(for once

;R1999 FORGET ME NOT - "five minutes"

Forget Me Not x Reader. 2.8k words fluff Being in charge of The Walden has its ups and downs - Forget Me Not enjoys being the conductor of an orchestra composed of dying men and women, even if it costs him hours of precious sleep. You make sure to remind him that even the most powerful broker in Chicago deserves a little nap.

this mf has been fighting me for a month or so, it's so hard to write him SLEEPING, HE RLLY DOESNT WANT TO. I HAVE 3 DIFFERENT DRAFTS GRAAAA so here we are. I fought tooth and nail for this, theres 4 different drafts just about FMN getting some fucking sleep. this one even has like, a different version where you fall asleep on his lap instead bc he keeps FIGHTING ME

either way, ty for the request, nonnie! your ask was the perfect excuse to get this done. sorry it ended up being longer than my usual stuff, I just really love the guy

The amount of work needed to maintain an establishment like The Walden often goes unnoticed.

Its elegant ambience and decor, all the powerful and influential people to rub shoulders with, the precise and meticulous organization behind every single detail and decision - all of it can be attributed to a single man, the very same who leads the crowd and makes their drinks.

When the night arrives, he and The Walden come alive.

Hundreds of desperate rats crawl into his den, searching for things they don't deserve: money, fame, fortune, connections, assets. They want to find their place in the world before they're long forgotten, and this is when Forget Me Not steps onto the stage and finds himself in his element, surrounded by all the people who look at him in fear, disgust and awe.

Do they know? That at the end of the world, he holds their fate in the palm of his hand? Him, a simple broker, a middle man.

An inferior, an arcanist.

Of course, the high fades as soon as the sun rears its ugly head over the horizon, his spirits plummet to the ground when the world returns to that monotonous routine. All Forget Me Not can do now is wait.

He would never dream of being so careless as to have his own residence right above his workplace, but he rarely steps into his home in the first place. It's too much trouble to commute back and forth, wasting time in a building that is as devoid of warmth as the blood running through his veins. That private office nestled somewhere within The Walden has become his new safe haven, in fact - with one too many couches to lounge around and no bed in sight.

Not that he sleeps anyway.

Forget Me Not always fancied the most convoluted route into an early grave, and thus has replaced the bottle for something else: endless paperwork.

It's getting harder and harder to conceal the dark bags under his eyes for a semblance of professionalism. How very fitting that, despite all of his efforts and accomplishments, his quality of life continues to deteriorate. What a depressing thought.

The leather of his seat squeaks as he shifts, leaning backwards to fully take in the piles and piles of files atop his desk. His gaze turns to the clock just to confirm what he already knows - it's a little past 6 AM, the cold breeze of the early morning keeping him wide awake. A brand new shipment of materials will arrive in two hours, they will need to be stored but it's an easy enough job for the Disciples. This means that the next important event on his schedule is the meeting at 11 AM. Forget Me Not's face sours right away at the thought, and he reaches for his drink.

And just like that, without any sort of warning, the door to his office is flung open. It's a good thing that despite his awful, awful health, his grip is as steady as ever - not a single drop is spilled. If else, Forget Me Not remains still as a statue, retaining that air of composed aloofness as he raises an inquisitive eyebrow towards the intruder.

It's you, standing perfectly by his door frame. He almost drops the glass once he recognizes your face, but conceals his little slip by settling it back down on his desk.

"Ah, how rare to see you during the day, you're always so busy with errands. To what do I owe this loud, impromptu visit? Keep in mind, I don't start serving drinks until 8 PM."

You don't wait for him to finish, marching towards the small lounge in his office and picking up a small, decorative pillow before dropping backwards onto one of the sofas. A shadow passes over Forget Me Not's eyes - he doesn't know whether to resent you for knowing you have the freedom and privilege to act like this around him, or whether to feel insulted for the way you ignored him just now. He settles for his usual third, secret option - resignation - and makes his way towards you.

Unlike you, Forget Me Not has mastered the art of concealing his presence and so he makes no sound at all when he approaches. He stands right next you, leaning ever so slightly to hover above your face, as if his piercing grey eyes alone could pressure you into speaking.

It doesn't work, at least not right away. You hide behind that useless pillow, then you shift and turn to lay on your side, all while he simply stands in perfect silence. It's a battle of attrition, one he intends to win.

"I slept like shit, okay? Just give me five minutes here and I'll go back to work." Your voice is muffled, but he hears how tired you are anyway.

It's easy to forget that people aren't nocturnal like him, at least not by choice. It's easy to forget about humanity when most of his coworkers are puppets held by strings and ink, mindlessly following orders. When you curl up on the sofa, Forget Me Not remembers just how tired he is and sighs. Soon, he's walking towards the door.

This makes you sit up in a hurry, clearly misinterpreting his actions. "Five minutes, promise! Don't kick me out!"

There's a faint click, it's the lock on the door. Forget Me Not returns to his desk, making sure not to look your way lest his eyes reveal those wretched feelings bubbling in his chest. Did you seriously think he had the nerve to throw you out so carelessly?

"Ten minutes. Make sure not to waste them with chitchat." He can practically sense you silently cheering and getting comfortable in his office. On his couch. It's insufferable, the way you always get what you want while he slaves away with work.

But it's only ten minutes, he can tolerate you for that long.

Three minutes pass, and Forget Me Not realizes that he's spent more time glancing your way than reading the document in front of him.

From his spot, he can only see the top of your head, just a glimpse of your form as you rest your eyes. But every time you move, no matter how subtle, he notices and turns his attention back onto you.

Seven minutes, he only needs to focus for seven minutes. The document in his hand is important: he's negotiating for better materials for his potions at a cheaper cost. This simple deal could mean a lot for Manus Vindictae, always so low on funds, resources and support.

Six minutes. Forget Me Not hears you hum and he slowly turns his head on instinct. You're staring right at him, face resting on the armrest, squishing your cheek against the plush cushions.

"You have four minutes left, are you sure you want to waste them like this?" He lies, as if he wasn't ready to ignore the passage of time to give you a few more extra minutes, expecting you to comply. But you get back at him with a question of your own.

"Did you get any sleep?"

"Three minutes." It comes out as a warning. You ignore it.

"I'm serious! You look awful from here." By now, you're sitting down and he knows that if he doesn't stop you, you'll make your way to him. To invade his personal space, cradle his face in your hands and torture him with your gentle touch. "You're always here when I start my shift and when I finish. Where do you get the time to go home and all of that?"

Forget Me Not would rather swallow his own tongue than to openly admit that he essentially lives here. That he has spare clothes in the drawer by the window, that he showers, eats and sleeps in this office of his. You might've figured it out by now, but with his pride and dignity at stake, he pretends to ignore you in favour of work.

"Hey, c'mon. Don't just go back to work like I'm not even here talking to you!" He does exactly that, picking up a pen to sign a few documents. "Drop that. Drop the pen. Hey!"

You talk to him the same way one would talk to a misbehaving dog, and he hears that whiny, frustrated tone in your voice that he's come to appreciate. There is a pause and Forget Me Not does as told - the pen now resting neatly on the desk.

He finally deigns himself to look at you, returning a small smile.

"Thank you, now, like I was saying-"

Thud!

With his free hand, he stamps a document, never breaking eye contact. The pettiness is always worth it, but this time even more so when he sees that tic in your eye and the way you inhale sharply, absolutely done with him. You sit up, consider laying down again in frustration, then simply cross your arms like a child throwing a tantrum - seeing you get worked up over the smallest of things is always such a treat.

"Fine! Be like that! But don't come running when you- Uwaaah!" A yawn interrupts your words, you barely have time to cover your mouth.

Oh no. It's contagious. He feels that tell-tale tingle in his nose, and just like that, he yawns as well.

"Aha! You are tired, I bet you haven't slept properly in days!" An accusatory finger is now pointed at him, and Forget Me Not fights the impulse to roll his eyes.

"That's quite the leap to make over a simple gesture like that. Your time is up, by the way - please, go back to work."

"I'm telling on you, Forget Me Not. I'm so telling on you."

He gives a raspy laugh at this. "And who will you be telling about my horrible sleeping habits? The waiters? The delivery boy? Our esteemed guests?" The latter would definitely eat up any sort of information about his private life, especially if it was something to ruin his reputation, but he doesn't share this out loud.

"Ahh... So, you admit it, then? Having the worst sleeping schedule known to mankind?" Touché.

Before he can even reply, your mouth opens in a feigned yawn and Forget Me Not seethes when he finds himself imitating you. He seethes even more over the smug smile on your face. And he wishes he could just die on the spot when you scoot over and pat the empty seat next to you. Him? Rest? With you? Absolutely not.

"Ten minutes," a tight knot forms in his throat when you start to coax him in. "I'm sure you can spare that much, since you've been indulging me for this long! If you were actually busy, you would've just sent me home to rest. C'mere, sit."

What is the point in keeping track of time by now? Forget Me Not will be by your side until you decide to leave. Indulging you and your stupid ideas, your well-meaning and annoying habits, your reactions - all of it, they're his favorite vice and he never learned how to quit.

"Five minutes." He sits next to you.

"Fair enough." You scoot closer to him.

He watches when you link your arm with his, not bothering to ask for permission. Typical. Your palm is warm as you rest it over his forearm, fingers drumming idly over the soft fabric of his shirt. But you don't linger for too long, and slide down until your index and middle fingers reach the bare skin of his inner wrist, over the pronounced vein there. Can you feel his pulse? The shameless and frantic beat of his heart?

Forget Me Not is so entranced by this simple action that he fails to notice the sudden extra weight - your head rests on his shoulder, with your cheek pressed against the prominent bone. He knows it's an uncomfortable position, because you shift and nuzzle closer to his chest, the top of your head and your hair now tickling his neck and jawline. The knot in his throat returns and he holds his breath on instinct, like an animal at the verge of being devoured.

Nevermind the constant cycle of violence and doom he's turned his life into, these are the horrors that keep Forget Me Not up at night: your body against his, your displays of affection.

"Your eyes," the soft murmur of your voice pulls him from the awful, nonsensical noise in his mind. You're looking up at him. "You're meant to close them. That's what this whole thing is for. Unless ...you can sleep with your eyes open?"

"Don't be ridiculous. As if such a short amount of time could make me fall asleep." He huffs, a way to conceal just how out of breath he is. Part of him is afraid to close his eyes, knowing that he will feel each and every little thing you do - only tenfold. And what would he do with himself then, when all he can focus on is your finger tracing shapes over his palm? It tickles. It's distracting. It's unbearable.

His hand flinches, just barely, and you interlock your fingers with his in response.

"Hush and close them!" Always so obedient to your commands, Forget Me Not does as told, cursing you in his mind.

He gives you an inch, and you take a mile - the moment his eyes are closed, his body turns rigid but you still coax him backwards, so that he can lean on the backrest of the couch. It takes the coordinated effort of every single muscle in his body not to melt on the spot, to remain in a proper, sitting position. With you nestled so comfortably by his side, Forget Me Not makes the worst mistake in his life: he turns his head towards you, his nose now buried in your hair.

The content and pleased noise that leaves him is something that feels alien, entirely out of character for someone like him. Right away, he feels the tips of ears burning with shame and his body uselessly recoils away from you, trying to revert back into that persona he's created for the world.

It backfires immediately.

"...Hm? Is your arm getting numb? Here, let's switch." You move away, all while your hands cradle his face in order to guide him over to your lap.

It's a painfully slow process that is simultaneously over in the blink of an eye. Forget Me Not doesn't know what's worse, the fact that he didn't put up a fight or the way he feels so incredibly small, being held so lovingly by you.

He's laying on his back, hands resting uselessly over his chest like a corpse in an open casket funeral. If he glances upwards (a difficult thing to do, because you flick his forehead whenever you catch him wide awake) he can see you hoarding all the pillows available within your reach to support you as you lounge about, still hellbent on sleeping in with him.

Did he die at some point throughout the day without noticing? Is this his own personal Hell? Forget Me Not wants to speak, to say anything and regain control of the situation, but nothing comes out. All there is to do is to lay there, with your hands combing through his hair.

His heart might as well burst out of his chest. Even better, crawl up his throat and choke him from inside out.

Without thinking, he sits up. It's a nervous impulse. You can't see his face with his back turned to you and he's grateful for the small moment of privacy, as he steels himself to send you away. Or to fuck off into The Walden and walk around aimlessly to cool off, and then avoid you for a few weeks. Whichever comes first.

"Oh! Want a pillow or something? I kind of just took them all without thinking." He doesn't deserve this sort of contact, this domestic bliss - he doesn't want it either.

"Hey, do you think we could do this more often? Just... make some time for me in that busy schedule of yours?" And why would he? You're already pretty skilled at turning his life upside down with your constant nagging and your antics.

"Sorry for being this sappy so suddenly, it just came to mind...Oh, oh! Wait! While you're at it, mind closing the window, please? It's getting a liiittle cold in here."

Forget Me Not leaves his glasses on the table and lays back down, this time making sure to wrap his arms as tightly as he can around your waist, his face hidden in your stomach. What he receives is a weak chuckle, a weak complaint and a weak attempt at pushing him away. You don't mean it, of course - the same way he never means any of the things he thinks.

"Hm, I believe it's perfect like this."

"You're just saying that because you're going to leech off my own body heat, you little snake."

There's a hint of victory in your voice, you've won once again against him but you're always too nice to rub it in. Instead, you caress the scales on his neck, now on full display for you. It's a heavenly sensation.

"Perhaps," he murmurs, eyes closed. "But what are you going to do? Kick me out of my own office?"

"I might if you don't get some rest. Sleep, now."

And just like that, Forget Me Not unravels - he's been waiting so long to be given permission, for someone to allow him a moment of peace despite all these restraints holding him back.

He knows that the moment wakes up, he will act like none of this happened, that he will stubbornly deny everything until his very last breath, but right now, he clings onto you like his life depends on it.

And he falls asleep with your name on his lips

#reverse 1999 #reverse: 1999 #r1999 #reverse 1999 x reader #reverse 1999 forget me not #forget me not: i fucking hate this world #forget me not the moment you walk in: OMG!!! YIPPIE!!!!#mf is so scary and deranged until youre right there reminding him that hes EXTREMELY touchstarved

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quirkwizard · 1 year ago

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I'm not sure why I made this. I just thought it would be fun to do and now all you have to see the fruits of my labor. So, without further ado, the Pro Hero Parent Tier List. Hope you all enjoy it and try not to take it too seriously.

F Tier: Gran Torino, Recovery Girl, and Yoroi Musha: The simple fact is that these three characters are way too old to be parents. Maybe if this were a grandparent tier list, they'd be higher, but it isn't, so they're all going in the F Tier.

D Tier: Endeavor: Look, do I even need to explain this one? You all know what he did. One of the biggest problems in the story is the result of all the messed up stuff Enji did as a dad. His attempt at redemption was to remove himself from his family. Easy bottom tier.

Nana: While I'm someone who tries to understand Nana's position and decisions in regards to her kid and her role as a "One For All" user, she still didn't seem like a very good parent even when she was around. She herself even admits that, so that is what puts her so low.

Gang Orca: What few interactions we see him having with kids is screaming about their failures and throwing them when he is dissatisfied with their answers. That is bound to cause some trauma later. Like some Pavlovain response when they think of Free Willy.

Hound Dog: He may be a guidance consular that works with kids, implying some understanding of child psychology, but if his first reaction is to yell and growl at any emotional problems in front of him, he probably isn't going to communicate with his own kids.

Thirteen: I get that Thirteen is someone who takes a lot of care and consideration with her power and is quite safe to be around. That being said, I don't think that someone who is at risk of destroying their own child at the atomic level should really be handling children.

C Tier: Edgeshot: There really isn't a lot to say about Edgeshot as we don't get a lot of personality outside of being stoic, which could certainly be an issue for a parent. That being said, being willing to sacrifice yourself for a kid does push him above the bottom of the tier list.

Mount Lady: If we're considering her early in the series, she'd definitely be at the lower tier given how irresponsible and self-centered she is. Though considering her development and how mature she's gotten in general, she barely scrapes by as an average parent.

Kaumi Woods: Kamui Woods is just kind of average. There just isn't a lot going on with him that could give or detract merit from the little hero work he's done. He's here by default. His inability to hug his kids without giving them splinters would certainly be an issue.

Manual: Again, he's average. The most we have is that he seemed to do pretty well with handling Iida's whole situation but didn't seem to notice it in the first place. Otherwise, he's pretty plain. I could see him being the lame dad his kids don't want to talk to or be around.

Miruko: Definite Tiger Mom. She'd be making her kids do all kinds of sports stuff and getting them to exercise all the time. She cares, but she shows it by trying to make her kids excel at what they're doing. Great if they're into that, but I can see it fostering a lot of resentment.

Sir Nighteye: Like Miruko, but at the other end of the spectrum. He would be the kind of dad to make his kid study a lot because that's what he would think would be best for them. Cares and can loosen up when needed, but is emotionally distant most times.

B Tier: Ms. Joke: She is a teacher, meaning she must have some understanding of kids. She'd definitely be the "Fun Mom". She'd always try to keep a smile on her kid's face, even if that meant making terrible mom jokes. Be ready, she has been working on them for years.

Ectoplasm: He seems to be pretty good with kids, but the real clencher is his power. No matter what, he could always be around to be present in his kid's life. And hey, family dynamics are always changing. Who is to say a family can't be just a kid and their thirty-six identical dads?

Ryukyu: She can be hard on herself, but she seems to have a soft spot for children and do well with her wards, given how well they have turned out, being commanding without being harsh. And let's be real: who wouldn't want to have a dragon for a parent? That alone would put her pretty high up here.

Eraserhead: This may be a controversial pick putting him so low, but hear me out. I think Aizawa would try to be a good dad, but he's married to his job, being too tired and absent to really make it work. And did you see what he bought for Eri to wear? What self-respecting father would ever do this his child?

Fourth Kind: A good role model to any kid who tries to foster strong moral foundations and understanding of community in his wards. All around, a pretty stand-up guy to have as a dad. He loses points because punching kids is not a good way to punish them, even if it hurts him more than it hurts them.

Midnight: This could be because I read Vigilantes, but Midnight actually shows quite a few parental traits, like being highly empathic and understanding of those younger than her. Then again, I can only imagine the kind of teasing and general awkwardness that would come from having the R-Rated Heroine as a mom.

A Tier: All Might: If we're counting him without "One For All", otherwise he'd be working too much to be a dad, I think that he'd be a parent. If his students are anything to go by, he'd be a pretty effective parent. We can also tell that he plays favorites with his kids, and that knocks off a few points.

Present Mic: This may be a surprise pick, but I can see him doing pretty well as a parent. He can be the fun, comic dad that plays with his kids and can get on their level, but he can instantly go into serious mode if he needs to. The fact that he can do both so well, which you kind of need as a parent, puts him pretty high on the list.

Best Jeanist: Another stand-up guy, just trying to be a good role model and look amazing while doing it. I mean, the guy had an actual positive impact on early series Bakugou. That has got to count for something. Probably has all kinds of weirdly good life advice if you can understand fashion metaphors.

Rock Lock: One of the few real parents on this list, Rock Lock just seems like a responsible parent. He did try to call out the kids for being on missions, but he was kind of right in that regard and just looking out for them. Probably try to keep his kid from doing stupid stuff. He'd be a good, but restrictive father.

Hawks: Like Present Mic, I could see Hawks being a chill dad who doesn't seem to know what's going on but actually knows everything that happens and always has one eye open when it comes to his kids. He'll give his kids their freedom, but he's going to be there to catch and guide them when they really need him.

S Tier: Mandalay: Another one of the few real parents here, and one with a pretty bad hand. Mandalay not only had to take over as a guardian out of nowhere but had to do it with a heavily traumatized child while trying to lead a team as a pro-hero. The fact that she seems to be doing as well as she is puts her this high without question.

Fat Gum: No one should be surprised that Fat Gum is this high. He's super protective without being overbearing, tries to instill valuable lessons to make them develop, and does his best to encourage his wards to be the best they could be. And could you imagine him giving hugs? That would make any problem vanish.

Tensei: Tensei is just such a good guy. He's a good role model and leader for his team without it being detrimental. He knew Koichi for about a day and he was able to understand Koichi and tried to set him up for success. Imagine how well he'd do with his own kid. Plus, he's an older brother. That's like a being a parent with training wheels.

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scorpiusmalfoylovesoscarwilde · 3 months ago

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I'm ill again because I have the immune system of a sickly victorian child. Therefore I must project onto the harry potter next gen kids

What i think (some) of the next gen kids are like when they're sick:

Scorpius: I've already done a whole post on this but I have no idea how to link posts despite being on this site for years. the short version is, he was a sick child and constantly in and out of hospital so now he cannot gauge when he's actually really sick and needs to just rest, so albus has to forcibly keep him in the dorm or hospital wing otherwise he will still try and go to class even if actively dying

Albus: he's lowkey so dramatic. if he has a small cold you WILL be hearing about it, BUT he's super subtle. he will casually tie it into conversation to make you feel sorry for him and just keep bringing it up until youre like aw no, im so sorry man. he doesnt try with rose anymore, because she will just mock him, she knows what hes doing. he's most obvious about it to Scorpius, he'll start pouting and be like I feel sick 🥺🥺 and Scorpius is immediately like oh poor baby 🥺🥺/gen and does in fact baby him until he feels better

Rose: does not get sick and its infuriating. when there's some kind of bug going around the school, you can guarantee this girl will not get it. she thinks everyone is just being dramatic and trying to get out of class. don't come to her for sympathy unless you actually look like you're on deaths door. the most sympathy surprisingly goes to Scorpius because she has seen this idiot try to attend class whilst not being able to function properly and be escorted out

Hugo: he doesnt get sick often, like a slightly below average getting sick, but my version of hugo is so unbothered by everything, he would end up in hospital or whatever but wont tell anyone, not on purpose, he just never goes out of his way to mention anything until it specifically comes up in conversation. Hes the random kid that pops up, says he has a relevant anecdote, tells you the wildest story youve ever heard so casually, youre left like???? what the fuck?? and how has that never come up before????, then he just dissapears again

James: gets so mopey, he gets so restless and hates having to sit and wait to get better. he'll enjoy not having to go to class for like one day but when you tell him he can't go anywhere or play quidditch or anything he's immediately over it like, 😟😟 wdym??? wdym I have to just lie here until I'm better??? lemme out!!!! LEMME OUT!!!!

Lily: lowkey whiny. she's not usually super whiny but she acts like a little kid when she's sick and will constantly frown and pout and cross her arms and kick her legs. collateral of being the youngest sibling lmao. she wants people to do everything for her and will shout for people to come get the TV remote or something that's only like 2 feet away from her and just shake her arm at it until you pass it. Ginny and Harry do it for her, her brothers do not lmao

Victorie: doesn't usually get sick-sick often, but I headcanon her as being a general athlete, she likes to do triathlons in her spare time, and if she gets injured she literally has to not be able to walk before she stops. she will just keep going. have you seen female footballers? the way they will be wacked in the head and start bleeding everywhere but then be like meh I can keep going. so her.

Louis: cannot stand the wanting to throw up kind of sick. he can deal with anything else, he has a pretty good immune system, he can pretty much carry on with normal stuff, and you won't even realise he's sick, but the second he feels stomach sickness, he is pale as a ghost and out for business. lowkey has emetaphobia, he will just sit so still until he doesn't feel like that anymore trying to make it go away by just 🧍🏻‍♂️if I don't move it won't know I'm here, yk lmao. hates throwing up so fucking bad

Roxanne: takes the sickness as some kind of personal test. is dramatic in the sense that she will go full warrior mode and be like 😈 i will survive 😈 I will not be beaten by these pitiful germs 😈 and will absolutely just rock her way through it, she talks like she's on some kind of quest, and that this is some kind of evaluation of her perseverance

Fred: just lies there. will not move until he's better. doesn't get really dramatic or complain but god forbid you try and make him do something, he'll start going off about how normalised it is for people to push themselves when sick because society wants people to work themselves to death, and doesn't actually care about anyone's health, and everyone just gets so sick of hearing him, they leave him alone

Karl Jenkins: will purposefully cough on people to get them sick too "as a joke"

#the hugo one is inspired by a girl i knew at school #she was so chill about everything and would randomly just bring up the wildest things so nonchalantly. one time she had really really sever #ear and eye infections and a bit later we were talking about some school event and she was like oh i wasnt there #and we were like #why? and #she was just like #oh I was in and out of hospital for weeks lol #almost lost my eyesight lol. anyway whats for lunch 😋#and that just feels so him #plz feel free to add anything or completely disagree with me lmao i am very persudable #you could tell me actually youre completely wrong and id be like yeah youre so right actually #hpcc #harry potter and the cursed child #harry potter next gen #scorpius malfoy #albus potter #scorbus #harry potter #rose granger weasley #hugo granger weasley #james sirius potter #lily luna potter #victorie weasley #louis weasley #roxanne weasley #fred weasley ii #karl jenkins

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cartoonsbyandie · 11 months ago

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@akai-anna You have made a mistake

SPOILERS FOR MOVIE 9 below the cut (TW: Depression like oh my god severe depression, suicidal tendencies)

So it's no secret I'm a Kogoro Enjoyer tm, to the point that it's probably more shocking that Movie 9 isn't my #1 pick, and my favorite movie involves Kogoro asleep for 60% of the runtime. BUT it gets the #2 spot on the strength of one scene, which is my favorite moment in any DetCo movie and possibly even the series as a whole.

The moment (which is probably like 20 minutes I'm corralling all into one 'scene') is all of Kogoro's deduction scene and the ensuing fight, basically right up until the point where they have to save Rachel. (The Rachel stuff being where most of my frustrations with Movie 9 are.)

Here's the thing about DetCo: If you're watching Movie 9, you're probably into the series pretty deep, right? You're trained to disregard Kogoro unless you get extremely clear signs otherwise. He's comic relief, he's always wrong, his theories are always wrong. Period. Unless Conan is literally spoonfeeding him clues, or the show goes out of its way to show he's being serious this time, anything he thinks up on his own is completely wrong. The movierunners know this and play into it-- In an earlier scene, Kogoro goes up on stage like always and completely botches a deduction in front of a crowd. He has no evidence and gets called out on it instantly, at which point Conan (via Agasa) steps in and calls out the real culprit, who confesses and the Action Part of the movie begins. Business as usual.

And then the movie proceeds to completely and entirely subvert that.

It's my favorite scene because of just how well the show hid its cards, which your mileage may vary on. Kogoro isn't front and center on the movie poster, but he isn't shoved in the background either, and I did get some inklings beforehand that this movie might have Kogoro playing a more prominent role when he seemed to be acting strange. (I say this is my favorite single scene, but the whole movie does build up to it well with subtle clues.) But during that botched deduction scene, I disregarded all of it-- I've been burned before by this show, thinking they were building to Kogoro doing something cool, only for it to be played for laughs. They fake the audience out by playing exactly to expectations, so Kogoro coming out of NOWHERE to reveal that he was right all along and literally left the botched deduction to go search the culprit's room for evidence and sabotage her murder weapon HAD ME SCREAMING.

Literally all of Kogoro's skills come to fruition here in this scene. He knows enough about guns to sabotage a harpoon gun, knows (almost) exactly what happened for all the crimes at this point, knows how to fight and subdue a criminal (we'll get to that) and is devoted enough to justice and Being A Detective to see this case through to the very end. This should be a crowning moment of triumph, and what's the soundtrack doing?

It's solemn and sad, because where is Kogoro is giving this deduction? On a sinking ship, after he forfeited his spot on the lifeboat, believing that Conan and Ran have already made it out. He gives this deduction alone, with no one but himself and the culprit. He acted like he would arrest the culprit, but... where would he take her? What was his escape plan?

He didn't have one, did he?

The culprit mentions that it's pointless for him to explain her crime to her considering the circumstances, and Kogoro outright says he can't help himself. He knows it's pointless. He was prepared to give his life here, just to stop her plan.

And you know what? That's tragic. The fact that he's willing to die here, for this, leaving behind Ran and Conan, is heartbreaking to watch. The tone of this 'real' deduction scene is a complete 180 from the botched one, because Kogoro isn't playing anything up. He's just calmly explaining the crime because that's what detectives do. That's what detectives live for.

I'm not done, though. There's still the part where the culprit decides her final act is going to be to kick his ass for this stunt. I think it's pretty clear from everything Kogoro says that he's throwing this fight, if not on-purpose then on a subconscious level. Like, Kogoro doesn't really fight for himself, does he? He fights when someone who murdered his friend is attacking his other friends, he fights when Ran and Conan's safety is at risk. He fights for other people, so when it's only himself at stake (and he was already prepared to die, that's why he's here at all), what's the point?

Conan calling out to him snapped him into gear because suddenly it wasn't about him. Suddenly there was someone else to protect.

I haven't mentioned Conan but the fact that Conan is 'present' for this entire scene is great to me too. He got to hear this entire thing, help Kogoro out when he fumbled one detail in his deduction, and even seemed proud by the end. It's so sweet to see Conan proud of Kogoro for once. It's sweet to see just how good Kogoro can be when he really cares, and how good of a team these two could be.

I'm glad we got at least one movie dedicated to that idea.

#Do not read if you haven't seen movie 9 #I'm not the type to care about spoilers but I'm so happy I went into that one with none #detective conan #dcmk #strategy above the depths #kogoro mouri #mouri kogoro

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