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honeydjarin · 5 months

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MOUSE IN THE KITCHEN

OPLA SANJI X SHORT!READER

Luffy isn’t the only one with a penchant for sneaking into the kitchen.

request: Hiii, if you want to I'd like to request a Sanji x short reader, where they try and help him out in the kitchen but can't reach anything. No pressure, just wondering

genre: fluff

word count: 2,000

a/n: normally I avoid any sort of specific physical features in my fics in order to make them as inclusive as possible, but as someone who must climb the shelves at the grocery store in order to reach anything, this request spoke to me. This one is a little silly and nothing but fluff. I hope you enjoy!

It’s late. The sun sank below the horizon long ago, leaving no trace of the adventures and games that took place during the daylight hours. Everyone else on the Going Merry is asleep. You really should be sleeping too, and you had been, not too long ago.

You don’t know what it is that stirred you from your slumber. Perhaps some noise as the ship rocks on lazy waves, or a crew mate talking just a bit too loud in their sleep. It doesn’t matter, really. What does matter is the thoughts that worm their way into your mind the longer you lie awake. Thoughts of something light, something sweet, something to satiate a craving, your body convinced it’s time for breakfast despite your mind knowing dawn is hours away. It doesn’t take long for the hollow ache in your stomach to drive you from the comfort of your hammock and up towards the galley.

You know the kitchen on the ship well. You know which floorboards creak and which are safe to step on, where the chef hides traps for Luffy and how to circumvent them, where all of the ingredients to satiate your sweet tooth are hiding.

Just thinking about the reason for your intimate knowledge of the ship’s kitchen is enough to send heat racing up your neck and settling beneath your cheeks. You press your fingers to the skin where your burning blood pools beneath the surface, taking a moment to relish in the sugar sweet feeling of a simple crush—a single name swirling through your brain is all it takes to leave you giggling quietly in the night.

Sanji, the newest member of the Straw Hat Crew. Sanji, the one who will never let another go hungry, not even a stranger. Sanji, the man with sun soaked hair and a honey dipped tongue.

Sanji.

When the chef first joined the crew, you admired him. He was caring and steady, he knew what he believed in. With his handsome looks, quick wit, and open flirtations, it didn’t take long for that admiration to slip into something that felt sweetly like affection. You couldn’t help but want to spend more time with the cook, hoping to join him in the activities that bring him the most joy so that you might better understand him. It didn’t take long for you to become nearly as familiar with the galley as he is.

You step into the kitchen, closing the door quietly behind you. You leave the lights off, not wanting to risk anyone else catching you in the galley (or getting the idea to grab a snack themselves). Instead, you stand in the dark, waiting for your eyes to adjust. Moonlight spills through the windows of the room, bright enough to see by, if you’re patient.

It isn’t long before you’re able to move again, walking along a familiar path towards where Sanji stores all things sugary.

There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach that you’re doing something you shouldn’t. Like if you have to sneak around then you’re in a place you don’t belong. This is Sanji’s space, cataloged and organized to best suit his needs and ensure the crew has enough supplies to last between islands. It feels strange to be in the kitchen without the sound of his laughter or the smell of something delicious cooking on the stove top.

Sanji’s presence is the piece that makes this space feel so comfortable. Without him, it feels too large, hollow. The galley has no life without its chef. You never really thought about how the kitchen would feel without him in it, and can’t help but hope it isn’t a feeling you become used to.

You know if you wake up the cook he will make something for you. He would rub the sleep from his eyes, only half succeeding, before asking what he could make to help satiate your craving with a smile. You would feel guilty the whole time.

It’s better to sneak through the galley for something you can find on your own than to disturb Sanji’s sleep.

The first thing you search for is chocolate. You crawl onto the countertop, balancing on your knees as your feet dangle over the edge, before opening the cabinet in front of you. You eye the chocolate chips, the miniature sweets sitting at a level seemingly so easy for the rest of the crew to grab. You doubt any of the others would have to climb to reach them.

Unfortunately, the only chocolate on the shelf is unsweetened. The lack of added sugar may be perfect for baking, but they won’t be sweet enough for your taste on their own.

You begin to drop down from the countertop, fully intending to continue your search for the perfect treat. Your feet drop to the ground quietly, and you land in an almost crouch. Perfect, the ship is silent, as it should be. You straighten up, intending to continue your search, but your knees, still tight from your recent slumber, crack as you stand. The sound rings out in the otherwise silent kitchen like a gunshot.

Maybe your creaking joints wouldn’t be a problem in a normal kitchen, but Sanji, who has ears attuned to any slight sound coming from the Galley (thanks to Luffy’s many attempts to raid the space at odd hours for food), surely heard the pop in his sleep. You may as well have knocked down all of the pots and shattered all of the dishes.

It isn’t long before the sound of hurried footsteps and frustrated grumbling reaches your ears. The door to the galley slams open, lights flickering on just a moment after, leaving you squinting as your eyes adjust to the room once more.

“Luffy, I swear if you touched any of the food I’ll—oh.” Sanji’s voice carries through the kitchen, his accent thicker than normal, sleep still clinging to his words. Your name rolls off his tongue, and you think it sounds sweeter in his sleep-addled voice than any chocolate could taste.

“Sorry, Sanji. I didn’t mean to wake you. I was just a little hungry,” you confess.

“You could have woken me up,” he says, just like you knew he would. “I’d have been happy to cook something for you.”

“I didn’t want to bother you. You deserve to rest. Especially when you already wake up so early each morning to make breakfast.”

Sanji hums, stepping farther into the kitchen. He looks more awake now than he did when he first arrived. His eyes don’t stray from your own as he speaks, no longer concerned about the state of the galley.

“For you, love, it’s never a bother.” The smile he offers you sends your heart fluttering in your chest. “Anyway, I’m awake now. What would you like to eat?”

He’s too good to you, too gentle. How could your heart ever stand a chance?

“I was just planning on eating a little chocolate, but it seems like there's only the unsweetened kind right now.”

“Ah, of course. Only something sweet would be fitting for my sweetheart.”

Your breath catches in your throat. His. He called you his.

You bring your hand up to your mouth, trying to hide the growing grin that spreads on your lips as you nearly melt from his words. The warmth blossoming in your chest will surely turn you into a puddle on the floor, and then Sanji will know just how much his words affect you (if he doesn’t know already).

“Can we make something with chocolate in it?” you ask.

“We?” Sanji repeats, as if he didn’t expect you to help him in this task. His gaze softens, eyes gleaming with something like affection, before adding. “Of course we can. How do strawberry and chocolate hand pies sound? I picked up some fresh jam at the last port.”

“It sounds perfect,” you say. It’s far more than you hoped to find during your late night search. When you got out of bed, you never would have guessed what kind of sweet you would find in the kitchen. You definitely didn’t expect to spend time baking with Sanji.

The two of you work comfortably together, only speaking when Sanji provides specific instructions or when you need clarification. The hazy fog of sleep still hovers over the both of you, even if you’re both awake enough now to function.

“Could you grab the chocolate chips for me?” Sanji asks.

It’s a simple request, one you can easily complete. You know where he keeps the chocolate chips, the unsweetened treat seeming much more appealing now that they’re going to be baked into something.

You make your way back over to the counter, situating yourself below the cabinet where the chocolate is stored. Then, you place your hands on the cool surface, preparing to make the climb. You’re certain Sanji knew this was the path necessary for you to take to reach the ingredient too. There’s no way for you to reach the chocolate chips without being higher up.

As you jump, using the force of your arms to help pull yourself up towards the counter just like you’ve done in other kitchens many times before, an unexpected force settles on your shoulders, pushing your feet back towards the ground.

“None of that, sweetheart. There will be no climbing on the countertops in my kitchen,” Sanji reprimands. He’s gentle in his scolding, the uptick of his lips and gleam in his eye letting you know he’s not really mad. “Sorry, I thought they were a bit lower.”

He doesn’t seem sorry.

You open your mouth to protest against what could only be meant as a jab about your height, but only a squeak comes out. Sanji’s warmth seeps into your back as he presses close, the shape of his hand burning into your hip as it settles there. You can feel the way his body stretches as he reaches up, leaning further into you, before easily grabbing the bag that seemed so far out of your reach. Any words you might have had to tell off the man for doing something for you when you could easily do the task yourself (as long as you could climb on the counter) fizzle out.

Sanji doesn’t look at you as he reaches for the chocolate, but the easy smile on his lips morphs into a lazy smirk. His thumb rubs slow, intentional circles where his hand remains steady on your hip, as if he was soothing a startled animal, coaxing you to stay close instead of running away, something you just might have done if he wasn’t purposefully grounding you while your thoughts soared.

Oh no, you think. He knows.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that Sanji was already aware of your feelings for him—you’ve always worn your heart on your sleeve—but you had tried not to make your feelings for the chef too obvious.

Sanji pulls the chocolate chips down, but he doesn’t step away. He still holds you close as he bends, his face lowering until it’s right beside yours. Then, without warning, his lips are pressed to the curve of your cheek.

The kiss is quick, feather-light, but you’re certain he can feel the way your blood burns just beneath the surface of your skin, his quiet mumble of so warm the only confirmation you need, even if you weren’t meant to hear.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I just couldn’t help myself.” Before you can react, Sanji steps away from you, taking you in for only a moment longer before turning back to the task at hand. With how smoothly he acted, there’s no way he hadn’t planned that little stunt he pulled.

He definitely knows.

Sanji is already placing the hand pies in the oven by the time you’re finally able to move again, and you can’t help but feel almost frustrated that the chef didn’t give you a chance to return his affection.

You’re left waiting impatiently as he sets the timer, the miniature pies now the last thing on your mind. Sanji doesn’t seem to understand—you’re craving something sweet, and as far as you’re concerned, the sweetest thing on this ship is him.

a/n: thank you for reading〜♡

#vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #opla sanji #opla sanji x reader #opla x reader #sanji x you #opla sanji x you #opla x you #opla #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece live action

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tonixe · 4 months

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—santa baby

A/N: Another Coriolanus Fic, I know, im obsessed. But I'm still in love with him. Christmas special, and the votes were counted, and the winning side was smut, not surprised though. I wanted smut too!

WARNING: fingering, creampies, virginity loss, p in v, teasing, groping, breeding kink, oral sex (male receiving), cum eating.

PAIRING: Young! Coriolanus x virgin!reader

WORD COUNTER: 2.1k

You enjoyed the holidays, the festive decorations, and the lovely atmosphere of the holiday, it filled you with much peace and joy throughout the month. But this month was your favorite, Christmas is a day that you get to gift people, and though people coup up in the Capitol, you were spoiled with many gifts from your parents and others, but you especially liked to gift people with your own expensive, spoiling others made you feel happy, enthralled even. Surprising from someone of your caliber to say.

You especially liked to gift your loved ones, your mother, father, siblings, and especially your beloved, Coriolanus Snow. You were in distress about what to gift him for this especially holiday, though you knew he always got something to satisfy your craving for luxury. You didn't know at all, even trying to talk to Tigris about what Coriolanus always wanted, she, herself didn't have an answer for this difficult question. A thought bloomed in your mind, though of the four years of marriage you shared with Coriolanus, you never ever had a sexual encounter with him. Was gifting him your virginity too scandalous, but you didn't know anything else that would do it for him, he did have everything a man wished for,

What would a president of Panem want for Christmas, you sat down and read through catalogs and catalogs of magazines to get you an idea of what to do. You knew Coriolanus adored having you wearing lingerie, especially the lacy ones that showed skin, you felt queasy at the idea, your cheek getting hotter by the second, pursing your lips together, but there wasn't any other way...right?

Your idea was to make a special set of lingerie for you to wear for Coriolanus, you wanted something that would match his signature red suit. Something lacy, with ribbons and cute little bows. You manage to get a tailor that would set up the special lingerie collection. Attending the fitting was hard, especially with Coriolanus wanting to know where you are every second, can't have Panem's prized jewel going missing?

You had a bunch of peacekeepers guarding your every move, walking into the tailor shop and out, even going inside. It was hard to keep this secret hidden from Coriolanus, especially with the loyal guards who reported your every move. But you manage to keep the secret, even making the tailor meet you in a secluded area of the shop to get the measurements.

But in the end, it was able to be complete, the dainty luxurious fabric into a piece of lingerie fitted for your delicate curves, it was a babydoll delicate, with stockings with matching bows on the top of the seams. It was perfect, you hoped that would enjoy that gift, but some part of you doubted. Days after days passed, and it was the prized day, the day you were ready for.

You snuck out of your shared chambers, your plan was to surprise him, writing down a little note and leaving it by his side. Taking out the box with the special garments inside the parcel, sliding on the red delicate lingerie, and mesh tights. Wrapping yourself with a red ribbon, tying your hands together, tightening it with your teeth. Carefully getting into the medium-sized box, you were almost done until you heard footsteps through the hallways, and quickly put the box top on. Your heart rate increases, and you feel your palm getting sweaty...

Hearing Coriolanus's voices through the box, closing your mouth shut. You didn't want to spoil his precious gift, hoping he would at least be satisfied with the surprising gift, crossing your fingers in hope.

Coriolanus called out for you, realizing that you were beside him when he woke up. He knew you enjoy the holidays and this one in general, as he stepped out into the living, there was already a gift he planned to present to you, but looking at the strange box, it was red with a silver ribbon, and was slightly moving. He cocked his eyebrows at the scene, cautiously walking towards the present.

His hands reach for the box and open it, your frame being revealed to him, your eyes making contact with his. "So, this is where you were, my dove," He said, chuckling at your struggling form, "Merry Christmas, Corio" You gave him a shy smile, but you should have seen how you looked in Coriolanus' perspective, the red ribbon wrapping around your body, and near your chest area squeezing against your breast, awaiting to spill out of their confinements. Flickering your eyes away from him, feeling Coriolanus grabbing you out the box shocking you. The red ribbons still confine to your body, as he bridal carried you, "So, this why you were so distinct from me, trying to make this little gift" he smirked, your eyes hestitiately looking away from his bright blue eyes.

His footsteps carry you to your shared chambers, your heart beating in your chest. As he delicately put you on the edge of the bed, your body still confined with the ribbon, he took out some embroidery scissors, slowly cutting through the ribbon except the ones on your hand, as he placed it down on the delicate wooden desk.

His eyes wandered on your half-naked body. Your body looked smooth, doll-like. Your perky chest with hard peaks, his hands touching your confined ones, and he put them over your head. "You did so good for me, dove" he whispered, his fingers touching you, tracing the line of your stomach to your collarbone making you shiver. He outlined your stomach down to your pelvis, gradually dragging off the lacy red panties, making you anxious as your eyes followed his fingers dragging off the delicate panties. Extending your legs, looking at the panties fully being extracted, and throwing them to the other side of the bedroom. The cold air ghosted against your cunt, as your legs trembled.

"Corio.." You whined, you were embarrassed, the feeling of butterflies fluttering around your stomach, "I'm just enjoying my Christmas present, darling" He inched his face, whispering to your ear, as his fingers danced to your delicate petals inching to the bud. His fingers gradually inserted his digits into you, a strife of moans coming out of your lips, as you curved your back up in pleasure. His fingers pulling out of you unbearably slow and plunging back in making you tense up. The brutal pace made you break, your chest heaving as you tensed up at his fingers before his fingers picked up in pace, and it turned into a reckless frenzy. His fingers fucking you harshly, flickering your pearl.

A wanton of moans ripping out of your throat, your eyes rolling back in pleasure, his lips connecting to yours, his tongue exploring your cavern, leaning into the intense kiss. His fingers are still at work, fucking you harsily. You lifted your hips up for him to thrusting deeper into your pussy, withdrawing from the kiss, as you stared at Coriolanus with droopy eyes, your lips parting apart.

Turning your head away from him in embarrassment, "Don't look away from me, dove" He gently turns your head to him, pushing a strand of hair away from your face. Your body felt hot, sweat dripping off of your body. His fingers drove into your cunt, the sloshing sound of your slick, your body getting hotter. Feeling a hot wave of pleasure crashing onto you, curving your back up as your juices mixed with your slick, tensing up your hands against the sheets. Feeling his fingers leaving your cunt, covered in clear fluids. Your cheeks reddened in embarrassment, "You made a mess" Coriolanus said, flickering your eyes at his frame, your hands taking his arm, surprising him. Placing his cum-coated fingers in your mouth, your tongue swirling against his fingertips, staring at him with doe eyes.

His eyes lit up with amusement, as you cleaned his fingers, pulling out his hands from your mouth, saliva coating his fingers. "Are you sure this is your first time, dove" He whispers with delight, you nod, "I want..to satisfy you, Corio" you mumble from your lips, "You are" he cups your cheek, "No..I want to pleasure you, please" your doe eyes looking at his cold eyes. His lips parted at your innocent appearance. Before you sat up, leading him down onto the large bed, your knee digging into the sheet as you pulled off his pants along with his boxers.

Feeling yourself swallowing at the size of his cock, as it strung up. The tip with an angry tip and is covered in colored veins.

Your hand slowly strokes it, your ears hearing groans slipping out of his mouth. Your fingers rub the tip. "Fuck, Y/N" he groans, "Is everything okay?" you questioned, feeling anxious that you're hurting him, "Yes, fuck" he muttered before you took his cock whole into your mouth, your tongue swirling the tip, hearing moans. Your head bobbing up and down his shaft, his moans getting louder, feeling his hands tangled in your hair, as you looked up at his trembling form.

His hand forced you down, making you gag. Tears pricking up on your waterline, forcing yourself to breathe through your nose. As he face fucked you, salvia drooling down your chin, moaning against his touch. Feeling yourself getting wetter, your doe eyes look up.

His hands never leaving your hair as he forced you down before he released his load down your throat, the bitter-salty taste hitting your tongue. Feeling his cock soften in your mouth, withdrawing from him. "Did I do good" you cocked your head to the side, as he examined at you, making note of your half-naked form. His hands making contact with your cheek, as he caressed gently.

He just nodded as you looked at his member harden, as you crawled on top of his body. His hand makes its way on the top of your lingerie, taking it off, and discarding it. Placing your hands on his shoulder, feel his hand on your waist, as you lowered yourself down on his cock. Feeling searing pain in your lower abdomen, stifling a groan from your lips. You felt his hands on your hips dragging you down, bottoming himself, "it's too big... corio" you quivered, "Your doing so well, dove" he gently lift your chin up slightly, as you stared at him.

His hips gently thrust up into your cunt, making you shiver in delight, biting your lip down. Your nails dig deeper into his shoulder making him groan, resting your head on his shoulder, adjusting to the pain. "I'm going to move, okay... Dove" he whispered, you nodded your head at the statement, before feeling his hands on the plush of your bottom, the slow-motion as he gripped your hips feeling his cock leaving you and his then lowering your hips down.

Tears prick on your waterline, biting your lips at the discomfort, his hands rubbing your waist. His hands picking up speed, picking and dropping you down on his cock, the gradually simmering moment of pain, turning into pleasure in your core, moans coming from your lips, throwing your head back in thrill. "Corio" you whined, his pelvis thrusting up. His cock rubbing at your cervix. Your body riding him, feeling addicted to his touch. "Corio–corio" your mouth chanting his name like a prayer, "I'm close..please" You were breathless, his cock slipping out of you and in. Feeling a wave of satisfaction crashing down on you, moans ripping out of you. The lewd sounds of your body mixing with his, your high-pitched moans ripping out your throat.

Feeling his cock leaving you, making you whine, "Lay down" he whispered, pecking your lips as you obey, laying down as he line up with you, pushing his cock into you, thrusting in and out of you, your this bouncing on impact, his hands pressing your legs down on your chest. "Fuck" he groans, his hands pressing your legs closer to you, into a missionary position. Feeling him deep inside you, "Corio–I'm close" you cried out, adjusting your arms around his neck.

His mouth connects to your neck, sucking the vulnerable flesh, you whined out on impact. "I'm close too" he grunted, his pace getting faster, the melody of slapping skin echoing through the room. "Inside please" you whispered, pulling Coriolanus closer to you, feeling your orgasm crashing down on you, moaning out.

Feeling his hot load filling you, his mouth crashing into you, moaning against him. The sensation of his cock dragging out of you, makes you whine. Sweat covers your body, cringing at the feeling of his cum dripping out of you. Your eyes hesitantly looking down, staring at the mess between your legs, light pink liquid dripping out of you.

"Merry Christmas, Corio" you exclaimed, your tired form not letting you stand up, discomfort ringing through your body. Your eyes flicker at the colored stained window, snow falling decorating the scene. Feeling the bed bending at his weight and leaning onto you, leaving a kiss on your lips, "Merry Christmas, my love"

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alicerosejensen · 6 months

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Tags: Dad!Leon(Older), Leon is the girl's father; fluff.

Warning: There are none.

He was really afraid of becoming a father. It's not so much the news of your pregnancy that scares him, but the likelihood that an innocent child may be harmed. His child. Leon is paranoid to worry about you and the baby. He'll probably get drunk before he puts that thought in his head. Don't get him wrong, he wants a family, he had plans after completing the police academy to get married in a few years and have two children, he still wants a family, but his fear devours this desire entirely because he knows that if something happens to the child and you one day, he just won't survive it.

It takes two to tango so I don't think he'll start getting angry and blaming you for everything. Leon just needs a little time, but when this happens and he thinks it over, he will want to transport you to some place that he thinks is safe.

You might have to get into a long debate with him, but this guy doesn't want anything like the Winters family to happen to his family. If someone kidnaps his child, he will simply go wild.

Due to the fact that he is a government agent, all information about you is classified. Also, if a bioterrorist attack suddenly occurs, you will be quickly evacuated along with your child. At least that's what Leon wants to believe.

The house will be nice and simple (perhaps like the Baker's house but without additional extensions) I think Leon likes something classic and cozy rather than modern and abstract. It is unlikely that you will be against it, especially since he does not skimp on quality items and excellent appliances.

Your child will definitely have a great room at all stages of growing up. But when the baby is born, Leon will still insist that the baby girl sleep next to him and with you for the first time. He would have put her in the middle of the bed, but since it was not safe, he agreed to just put the crib on his side. He's just calmer that way.

“Look, I found a catalog with a whole selection of cribs. There are different options, classic, round, even some very strange ones, what position should the child lie in?”

You will laugh, but in the end you will find the right option. Not too expensive, but first you need to explain to Leon that the baby in the first months of life will definitely not be whimsical in which bed he sleeps on. Leon, of course, knows this, as well as the fact that many of the toys that he has already ordered will not be needed by his daughter until at least six months, but he cannot do anything about it.

Choosing a name is a whole challenge. You two will have a debate about this when you find out the gender of the baby. Leon will want a simple name and will roll his eyes when you read him rare names from your notebook.

"Laura, Mary, Ashley, Sarah, Jessica, Kate? These names are for weaklings! Need something crazy and original, right?"

It will really be difficult, but he will win and his daughter will have a normal name.

When his baby is born and Leon holds her for the first time… you will see tears running down his cheeks. He would have kissed this pink, swaddled bundle of joy, but he just sat there, held her in his arms and cried from the fact that he was now the father of a little girl.

This girl will be lucky as hell. Her father would literally give her the whole world at her whim so you're a little worried that she might grow up spoiled. However, while she is a baby, your only problem is the fact that your daughter loves to be held in her arms because Leon constantly carries her around the house, showing her things and telling her some stories.

Leon will wake up at the first cry and immediately try to calm her down. Change a diaper? hungry? If you are not breastfeeding, Leon will easily prepare the formula and feed her. Sometimes you think that he is a better mother than you.

The best toys, a special children's area when your daughter begins to explore the world around her, beautiful and comfortable onesies. Your daughter will definitely have a bodysuit with the inscription "daddy's princess"

A stern special agent in the White House and on missions, Leon becomes an affectionate bear at home.

He is a truly caring dad. Watching cartoons with her, coloring coloring books, playing games when she grows up. This child is the only person who can attack him from behind and Leon’s reflexes simply won’t work.

Often he needs your help and advice on what to do best. He will especially need your help when her first childhood love and first broken heart happen. Because he can get really angry at anyone who causes his baby any pain. He really doesn’t understand how it’s possible not to love her, but more on that later.

At the age of 3-6 years, Leon can only be seriously shocked by some accidental injury or illness. Be serious but he will panic even if it is a common cold. You will have to work hard so that he doesn’t drop all his business and take your daughter straight to the doctors for all the examinations. Of course, you will dissuade him, but he will repeatedly check the baby while she is in bed. He will kiss her on the forehead and lie with her for a while so that she does not worry (even if she was initially calm). It would also literally break his heart if Leon heard you sneeze.

She will definitely be daddy's princess. She almost literally walks on his head, does her dad's hair with pink bobby pins and combs his bangs, and paints his nails with polish. Leon allows her to do almost everything to him. But of course he won't come to work with pink nail polish.

Support any hobby. It could be dancing, drawing or playing football. The main thing is that she likes it herself.

What Leon definitely won’t allow is to look into his safe where he stores weapons and ammunition. The password will be complex and only he will know it. This is one of the few things that Leon forbids his child.

He, of course, loves his baby and is ready to do anything for her, but… he won’t have a second child. Every time he returns home, a terrible thought comes to his mind: “What if something terrible happens to my family.” He often has a nightmare in which you and your daughter have turned into zombies, so he will need a drink.

I think one day, when your daughter woke up, she left her room and went down to the first floor, holding in her hands the plush bunny with whom she usually sleeps. She saw her father sitting at the table with a bottle of whiskey as he simply looked thoughtfully into his glass.

Leon, of course, immediately noticed her and looked at her. God, tears will immediately flow from his eyes when he stretches out his hands to her and your daughter runs to him. His arms wrap her tightly in his arms and pull her onto his lap. You will see this picture and the perplexed look of children's blue eyes turned to you when your husband is just sitting at the table, holding his beloved child and crying because he is fucking AFRAID!

You understand why Leon behaves this way. He finds it difficult to get rid of these thoughts because of his job. He survived Raccoon City, Tall Oaks, saved the president's daughter in Spain from parasite-infected fanatics, and a whole bunch of other crap that you probably don't even know about. He has every reason to be afraid and sometimes you regret that you did this to him. Although you know that Leon loves your daughter with him, the very thought that something like this will happen to her simply destroys him to the core.

Your little girl wipes the tears from his cheeks and kisses her daddy on the cheek, telling him that he doesn’t need to cry. Leon simply presses her too tightly, feeling her scent. If he could put an end to zombies and their creators once and for all…

Leon will take her and you back to the bedroom. Next to the two of you, he will be able to sleep a little peacefully, but you know that his sleep is never sound.

You try to talk to him but he pushes you away. He really loves you, but he hates it when people mess with his brain. Of course, whiskey is a bad medicine and Leon himself does not want his daughter to find out that her dad sometimes has the weakness to drink, thereby ignoring his problems, but still… no matter how hard he tries to be perfect, he is not perfect.

When your daughter goes to school, Leon will rejoice at any of her successes. She will also help with homework as much as needed. He will explain everything in detail, clearly and without shouting (sorry, this is a sore subject for me).

He will not always be able to attend school events, unlike you, but if possible he will not miss them. However, he asks you to record everything on camera.

Oh yes, on his desk at home there is a framed family photo of the three of you in the park, joyful and carefree.

So, adolescence is…complicated. Leon understands that his baby will begin to grow up and has no problem organizing small changes in her room. And he also understands that hormones are coming into play. Sometimes screams and anger accompanied by loud slamming of the door are simply inevitable.

That's the time when he can really start to get angry and swear in response, so you realize you need to cool his temperament… The truth is that you really have to punish your daughter when she crosses all boundaries.

Nevertheless, if something suddenly happens, she will always run to Leon, knowing that he will protect her. He may be angry, but as mentioned above, he will do everything possible so that nothing happens to his family.

Partying with friends at night? Absolutely not! Never! Have pity on the old man's heart. Leon will find a bunch of reasons not to let her go anywhere at night. After all, there will be alcohol, shitty guys who can offend her or get her drunk and take advantage of this by ruining her life. Perhaps Leon will exaggerate, but until the age of 16 he will definitely be adamant about this. Sometimes being the daughter of a government agent just isn't possible.

And then, before letting her go to the party, he will sit her down on the sofa and give her a long lecture, telling her to always watch her drink, drink only what she pours for herself or is poured in front of her. If are distracted, do not drink under any circumstances, but take another glass! If someone pesters her, he will show several self-defense techniques and immediately tell to call him. Well, the cherry on the cake - he still won’t allow her to stay there all night. He also won’t bother with calls, but she will need to respond to all his SMS, if not… he will come right away.

Even you yourself will get tired of this overprotection, realizing that Leon often goes too far.

But you ask your daughter to be more lenient towards her father, because he is simply worried about her life. However, when you are young and have not seen what Leon saw, it is difficult to understand his actions and behavior.

There will be conflicts and there will be a lot of them.

The only thing that can make your daughter understand the actions of her father is if someone kidnaps her and confronts her with the infected, forcing her father to go to another wilderness inhabited by the infected. (bad version of events).

Leon will immediately go after her, promising you that he will return her safe and sound. He remembers how he saved Ashley, but she was already an adult girl and not a teenager who, at most, had seen horror films on TV.

Leon, like Barry or Ethan, is ready to kick the ass of any bastard who hurts his baby. In any case, he will do everything to save her.

I imagine this concept as a teenage girl hiding behind her father's back, holding on to his kurta or vest while he shoots enemies, sometimes throwing improvised objects like bottles or stones, stunning the opponents.

After returning home, she will hug you tightly and cry for the hundredth time, promising her father that she will no longer contradict him.

There is no need to say what condition Leon himself will be in after this personal rescue mission. All three of you will experience extreme stress after what happened.

In a good scenario, bypassing the kidnapping, peace between father and daughter would most likely have come much later, when the teenage years would have been long behind us. Probably this realization would have come to her when her naive view of the world ceased to be naive and she began to understand what her father had been struggling with for many years.

Oh yes, about first love. Leon would definitely be vigilant and keep a close eye on everything. He has a whole database and he will immediately run through all the boy’s data, having learned everything about him, and yet he doesn’t really like the idea that some dubious guy is hunting for his daughter.

If Leon realizes that this is an ordinary bastard who runs after every skirt… well, he will find a way to take him away from his treasure. If not and he's just a normal guy… he'll just watch and give a couple of warnings.

The first parting… Leon consoles as best he can, but he has no idea what to do. He himself got drunk and slept through his first day of work, but this option is definitely not suitable. That's why he needs your help again.

"Movies, books, maybe give her something? What can I do to stop her crying into her pillow?! I don't know what else to tell her!"

In the end, he will gain strength and give a good speech, comforting your daughter's broken heart. After all, life does not end with one boy who, in Leon’s opinion, only proved that he is not worthy of his daughter.

He's a good dad. Not ideal, but your daughter wouldn't want it any other way. Of course, she is sad that he may not be home for a long time and sometimes he is too suspicious, but he is her dad who will move the earth for her.

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flower-biter · 2 days

Text

22-28 April 2024

WHOOPS this is late but last week sure was A Week™

Work work work

Applied for the manager position. Still not really sure if I actually want it, but I feel so protective of this team and don’t want an outsider to screw up our dynamic, and multiple people have asked if I’d applied because they think I could be a good fit. I guess discomfort is part of growth, but I’m also so full of doubt whether this is growth in the right direction. Sometimes I just want to quit and look for a fully remote job so that I could live anywhere I wanted (and could afford), but that requires energy that I currently just don’t have. I feel like I’m in a holding pattern but I’m not sure what I’m waiting for, besides myself to make a decision. And while I dither, opportunities can fade. I don’t know if I’ll ever get better at this.

Listened to a lot of old favorite music this week and wrote a lot about my feelings and memories with it and shared it with a new friend and it felt like…undressing. Sharing these (perfectly common, public) sounds should not feel so intimate. And yet.

Blood donation again; got a good grade in blood. Did not pass out, did have a hard time getting up the next day with some delayed fatigue. I think butterball thought I was injured because he was extra affectionate, and slept very close to me that night, purring constantly (which is very cute, but does make sleep difficult because he purrs so loudly).

Little joy: funky earrings from the artisan market in Charleston! Brushed brass + antler slices, just the right weight and swingy-ness

Dinner with a friend at one of the nicer restaurants in town, founded by an Italian gentleman and mostly staffed with folks from Sardinia (and yes, the food is amazing). Friend’s cancer treatment is going to take longer than initially expected, but the prognosis is still good and he’s just doing radiation, not chemo. He’s looking healthier than he has in a while, though, and is cheerier than expected. Chicken piccata (perfectly lemony) + tiramisu (not too sweet) = happy belly

Might try to buy a house, again - third time’s the charm? My realtor contacted me out of the blue with a townhouse that’s just my size and budget and looks move-in ready, so I frantically re-applied for a mortgage with better terms and scheduled a viewing. I don’t love the location, but also can’t really afford to be super picky. At least I’d be closer to my friends and sister and have my own space.

Checked out the house. It’s fine, perfectly nice. I could certainly make it mine. But I just feel…empty looking at it. I don’t want to sink a ton of money into a house and have one more root/anchor tying me to this town I hate don’t really care for and desperately want to leave.

Walking around Charleston, I saw a lesbian couple getting married in a park: just them and the officiant, and they looked so, so happy and lovely and I definitely teared up a little bit to see such public pride and joy and love for a queer couple.

I have to make big life decisions and it’s so so so hard. Charleston was fun as always but also exhausting (joined five tours and oh my goodness, I’m so tired, so many people). I got to eat lots of good food and smell some wonderful flowers and see a cool exhibition at the museum. And then the owner of my company asked me: would I consider moving to Charleston and working for her full time? Within the next year or so? What would she have to pay me to make it happen? And yes yes yes I want to move to Charleston so badly (it's beautiful, near the beach, great food, bigger queer community, lots of things to do, walkable/bikable, more flexible work with this company, so many reasons to move there!) it’s just. SO expensive. I gave her a number and she said she’d work on it and check back in in 6 months, and gave me a raise in the meantime without my even asking for it (whereas my full-time day job just celebrated my 1-year anniversary but won’t even offer a cost-of-living adjustment/raise). I want to make this happen. It’s so good to have a goal to work toward: paying off the last of my student loans and building enough savings to make the move within the next year. But it's also just so much everything that my brain just feels like !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So. A very emotional whiplash kind of week, and now I just feel totally wiped out. I think a lot of this fatigue is emotional/decision more than physical, but it's still making itself known.

Have a photo dump. I'm going to try to turn my brain off from thinking about work/the future/oh god what am i doing with my life by crocheting with Elementary playing in the background.

pictured: roses on iron / funky tilework / morning downtown / welcoming committee / new earrings / a really quite good pinot grigio / cemetery cat / street findings / overgrown graveyard / even these bikes have me asking 'me and who?' / jasmine trellis + peggy martin roses / overpasses / park breakfast / charleston harbor, low tide / a sort of selfie

last week

#there is in fact a difference between a graveyard and a cemetery and yes i did use those words correctly here #also: savory scones are superior. this one was cheddar & scallion and perfectly buttery and crispy. so good #the cemetery cat (some kind of guardian surely) did let me pet it for quite a while #very soft and sweet #it's been a good week but oh no now i have to make decisions and plan for the future to actually get the future i (think i) want #help i'm doubting everything #but i'm also not very happy here and dont really see the future i want where i am. this is my in between #finding the balance between finding peace with/joy in a weird transitory period and not losing sight of longer term ambitions/goals is #very hard. aaaaaaaaaaaahhhh #well. the time will pass anyway #catalog of little joys

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splatsvilles-fashionista · 1 year

Text

So this is something I've seen discussed a little bit in my notes, and I'd like to address it because I believe a lot of people don't actually think about this:

If you're not having fun then you need to stop playing the game.

With Splatoon 3 adding seasonal catalogs, I've seen a lot of people that feel compelled to play just to get everything in them, sometimes grinding for hours if not days at the very end of the season.

Don't do this. Playing the game for an external reward rather than the joy of the game itself will inevitably lead to burnout, and to you not being able to enjoy the game at all anymore.

I know that it is very hard, especially for certain kinds of people, to resist the temptation to keep grinding for the sake of completion, but I promise you that it's not worth it in the long haul. Especially since I can also promise with complete and utter certainty that the devs will add ways to get everything in old catalogs as time passes. They've already done that for old emotes, after all.

TL;DR: play to play, don't play to grind, and learn to recognize when you're doing the latter rather than the former.

#splatoon #splatoon 3 #this actually applies to most ongoing games #but this is a splatoon blog specifically so

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sky-kiss · 4 months

Text

Drink

A/n: I got nothing. I don't know. This is nothing. This is like. Minor lactation kink and some conversation lol. Everything is going under the cut. Here. Have his smug face as my penance.

R/D!Urge: Drink

“Your son was not hungry.”

There’s an archness to her tone that causes Raphael to lift his head. The duchess lingers near the edge of his vision, a conspicuous distance kept between them. Vanity has kept her from his bed and out of his company; he does not miss the excess fabric draped across her form, designed to hide the extra weight and the heaviness of her breasts.

The body did not feel like her own, she’d admitted once, head held high. Daring him to argue, perhaps hoping he might. He had no interest in the conversation one way or another.

“This is of interest to me?”

Joi frowns, gaze dropping. He will not say she is diminished, but there is somehow…a shift---in her bearing, in her essence. She was much the same in the months following their daughter’s birth. Discomforted and robbed of her self-possession, hormones and exhaustion forming some wretched amalgamation. He sees the ragged seams of her fraying control, places where he might hook his fingers and pull. And worse, he thinks she could not muster the energy to stop him. She hugs his stolen robe more tightly about herself. “Please, Raphael. For once, no games.”

“No games, no whimsy…how tiresome.” He leans back in his seat, folding his hands over his stomach. “Come.”

The duchess crosses to him, and it occurs to him again how little he likes her like this---this dour little thing. She settles across his lap, wincing as she adjusts herself. The boy…the prince, he amends, had not come into the world as delicately as his sister. It’d taken days to clear the stench of blood from the boudoir.

His sorceress leans her head against his chin, grumbling and drawing his arms around her. Raphael plucks at the robe’s tie. “Why have you come, pet?”

She huffs, “Am I no longer welcome in your boudoir, my duke?”

“You seemed happy enough to keep your own company.”

Joi pinched the back of his hand. “Your son, your heir, needed me.”

“The princess is my heir. The boy…”

“Raphael.” Her tone is softer than he expects, not the righteous fury he hopes to elicit. Too tired, no games, no sport. “Please.” She leads his hand to her breast, heat radiating from the milk-swollen flesh. He pushes the robe apart. The nipple is badly chafed, reddened, and oversensitive. “As I said…your son would not drink.”

“Haarlep would leap at the chance to relieve you.”

“Haarlep,” his duchess purrs, fingers stroking back through his hair, scraping across his scalp. “Is no king. My body bore princes and princesses…should it nourish him?”

The devil chuckles, lifting her from his lap and onto his desk. “Oh, wicked thing. A fair point.”

She winces when he spreads her legs. He shifts to his human form in a fit of deference, holding her knees tight to his side. Raphael acts with uncharacteristic care, bowing her back. The devil presses a kiss to her sternum, cupping her right breast to relieve the pressure before suckling.

Her hand moves to the back of his neck, holding him in place. Joi’s sigh borders on rapturous relief rather than pleasure. He finds himself cataloging these noises, each one fascinating: a scrape of teeth and she hisses; more direct pressure and she’ll squeeze her legs around him. It’s best to press the flat of his tongue to her skin, open-mouthed and indirect, and then she makes such pretty noises. So sweet.

He presses his hand between her shoulder blades, exaggerating the bow of her back. He sucks a bruise into the rise of her breast before shifting his attention to the left, repeating the process. She’s slackened in his arms, relaxing into his touch now that the worst of her discomfort has passed.

Raphael swallows, pulling back to admire his work. He wipes a stray bead of milk with his thumb, bringing it to his lips to lick it clean. His duchess shivers, staring at him with wide, hungry eyes, mouth still partially slack.

He kisses her, letting her taste herself on his tongue, slow and languid.

And when all is said and done, Joi presses him back into his seat. His duchess sinks to her knees with neither comment nor complaint, only a delicious look of self-satisfaction, hunger she longs to satiate.

Far be it from him to deny her.

#bg3 raphael #raphael x tav #raphael x oc #oc: joi #tw: lactation #bg3 fanfic #my writing #look i dont know #im avoiding working on the things i should be working on

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pumpkinologists · 9 months

Text

Haircut

Spencer Reid x F!Reader

Summary: You help Spencer pick out his new haircut

Warnings: None

Enjoy!

"Should I get a haircut?" It was the first thing said to you when Spencer walked in the door. "I'm really thinking I should go shorter. Also, strands are always falling in my face when I'm trying to work; it's honestly annoying." Before he could get another sentence out, you cut him off. "Spence, slow down." You watched as his hands fell, and a shy smile appeared on his face. "Sorry."

Your face was screwed up in thought, taking in what he had said. "What kind of style?" you asked, trying to picture Spencer with anything other than the longer hair he currently had. "Hmm," his eyes moved pensively to the side, "Would you help me decide? I'm really not that fantastic at styles," he chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck as blush spread across his cheeks.

With a smile on your face, you nodded, "I can help." At that point, he quickly set down his shoulder bag and started to dig through it for something. Finally, he pulled out a magazine and said, "I got this from the store. It's a catalog of different hairstyles that suit different face shapes, eye shapes, and body shapes, and yeah," he held it up by his eager-looking face.

Nodding, you gestured your hand to the couch, saying, "This might take a little while; let's go sit." He nodded and followed you to the couch, sitting down beside you. "Okay, so," he started right away, leaving no time to spare, "I was skimming through it and it said something about face shape being the main deciding factor." He paused and squinted at the page he had flipped too. "I'm really not sure which I am though." He pouted his lips in thought, jutting out his bottom lip and puffing his cheeks slightly.

"Let me help," you grinned as he looked at you like you were a genius. He handed you the magazine and pointed to where the demonstration of face shapes was. You thought for a second, looking at the models and labels, then looking back at Spencer's face, comparing them. None of them quite looked correct until you got to one that looked similar: "Diamond? Maybe?" You held the page up to his face and leaned forward, trying to get a closer look.

You shook your head, "That's not right." Tapping your chin in thought, you brought the magazine back down onto your lap and inspected it again. It still wasn't right. Just as your eyes skimmed over the page one more time, about ready to give up, you saw one that was perfect: "Square!" Your eyes went wide with joy. "Jeez, how could I have missed that? It's almost identical." You muttered with a small frown.

Spencer nodded as he looked at the model that was labeled 'square'. He nodded his head in approval, saying, "I was stuck in between square and diamond myself, and now that you mention it, it is pretty similar to my face."

Still grinning, you adjusted yourself, leaning in to look at the pages Spencer was flipping through. "So, these are the haircuts that are supposed to suit my face shape, then," he murmured. You moved over closer to him, touching your thigh to his. "Here." You patted the space where both of your thighs met. Without looking up, he gave you the other end of the magazine to hold while it rested between you both.

Slouching down to the page, you saw a hairstyle that caught your eye. "What about this one?" A hum of thought came from Spencer; he shook his head and said, "It’s too short; I still want some length." You nodded at his request and flipped the page once you were sure that he was done looking. Come to find out most hairstyles suit Spencer’s face shape, so it was rather difficult to choose.

A sigh left your lips after Spencer said no to yet another hairstyle you suggested. "You’re picky." You frowned. "I’m just not so sure what I want," he said, sounding a little annoyed. You shrugged, rolling your eyes. You had nowhere to be, and it wasn’t like you weren’t going to spend all night with him anyway. Rubbing your temples, you tried to sound as reassuring as possible: "I’ve got all night, Spence; take your time."

You both sat there for another solid ten minutes. Somewhere in that time period, you opted to lay back against the couch, your legs splayed across Spencer’s lap. He just kept flipping back and forth through the same pages. "Are you comparing?" you yawned. He bobbed his head lightly. "Let me see," you asked, reaching for the magazine. He took one last look before giving it to you. "Numbers twenty-one and seven," he said, answering the question you didn’t even ask.

Spencer’s eyes watched your reactions carefully. He tapped your shins rhythmically, squinting at your expression. You looked between the models and Spencer and then back again. Hmm," he was right; it was a hard decision. It was between a shaggy style that looks like a member of One Direction would sport and a smart-looking style that was longer at the top and back, with hair slicked back at the sides.

"Seven," you decided on the one direction looking one, liking the length. You handed the catalog back to Spencer, who was now nodding his head in agreement: "Sevens good." You smiled triumphantly and sat up. "That took longer than I thought," you stretched, yawning once again. He agreed, setting the magazine on the coffee table with a light smack.

You slouched over, sitting at the edge of the couch. "I don’t know about you, but that drained me." It was your way of saying, Let’s go to bed, and Spencer agreed. He stood up from the couch and stretched his arms above his head with a small groan. "I’ll go tomorrow; I have the day off." You smiled sleepily. "Send me a picture when it’s done."

In the comfortable silence that followed, there seemed to be a mutual agreement. Spencer held his hand out to help you up from the couch. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and he gently gripped your waist. Making eye contact, you smiled at each other softly. "I’m sure your gorgeous head would look good with any haircut, but," you gave his lips a quick peck, "Right now I’m tired of thinking of hair, so let’s go to bed."

#fluff #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds

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lurkinglurkerwholurks · 5 months

Text

Satisfaction

Summary:

Selina had not been a little girl who dreamed of white dresses. The marriage of Selina Kyle and Bruce Wayne, from Selina's POV. For @audreycritter and @frownyalfred

Selina had not been a little girl who dreamed of white dresses. She had not filled her idle musings with bouquets of flowers and tiny cakes. Her interest in diamonds had always been professional, not personal, waxing and waning in sync with whatever artificial value the De Beers were enforcing in the moment. A wedding had never been on her list of goals, a marriage even less so. She had craved luxury, security, independence, autonomy. Nothing she had seen as a child, watching forgotten in a corner, nor as an adult, peering through the windows of strangers, had indicated that marriage could be anything more than a gilded cage at best, an end to all she guarded fiercely at worst.

And yet here she was.

Selina had been determined to be present and fully engaged in the consequences of her decision. She had made this choice, herself, fully and of her own free will, and yet the muscle memory of her soul twitched, threatening flight at the first suggestion of a trap. If she detached herself, she risked reacting instinctively, spirit engaging in the gaps where the will faltered. So she had cataloged each moment, each sensation, carefully, a discreet notation in her mental dossier, a bespoke placard hung alongside the framed piece—the feel of her dress being zipped into place, velvet and lace pressed to skin; the clouded smell of the roses in the bower over her head, their blossoms full and heavy; the whirr of insects beneath the stringed quartet that beckoned her down the aisle.

It still felt like a dream. Selina felt herself doubled, reverberant in mind and body. She was present, present, present, and yet outside herself, forever echoing outward with a ringing ripple of awe. She smiled at all the right moments, true and real, and noted the faces that reflected their joy back from the seats on the lawn. She marveled at herself from afar. She spoke her vows, repeating solemn phrases of partnership, devotion, binding loyalty, and meant them even as her insides quivered. She heard them as if from someone else’s lips.

She was getting married.

She was married.

Selina Renée Kyle, the Wayne silent but wrapped around her heart like silk, a band on her left hand and a kiss pressed to her lips. Married.

Bruce, as always, was her bolt, her fixed point as she swung through space. He had taken her hand in his at the altar and kept it through the ceremony, the vows, the walk back down the aisle, and the final round of photos that followed, letting go only briefly to sign the license. The prolonged touch might have felt restrictive, but instead it felt like the final check on her lines before rappelling through a skylight, that superstitious tug and the feedback of an anchor point that would not fail. He held her aloft.

Their rehearsal dinner had been small, intimate, restricted to the cherished few that knew who was truly getting married the following evening. Bruce, to Selina’s surprise, had chafed against the wedding pageantry his status demanded and had made a bid for the ceremony to mirror the dinner, held before no more than a handful of witnesses.

“You and me,” he had said, words breathed into the side of her neck. “The kids. Alfred. That’s all we need.”

Selina knew better.

Read the full fic on AO3

#batfic #my fic #fanfic #batcat #selina kyle #bruce wayne #batfam #my first and probably only ship fic #(tbh I don't have a DC fic but I do have Opinions on allowing Bruce Wayne to love and be loved dagnabit)

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mostlysignssomeportents · 2 years

Text

It was all downhill after the Cuecat

Sometime in 2001, I walked into a Radio Shack on San Francisco’s Market Street and asked for a Cuecat: a handheld barcode scanner that looked a bit like a cat and a bit like a sex toy. The clerk handed one over to me and I left, feeling a little giddy. I didn’t have to pay a cent.

The Cuecat was a good idea and a terrible idea. The good idea was to widely distribute barcode scanners to computer owners, along with software that could read and decode barcodes; the company’s marketing plan called for magazines and newspapers to print barcodes alongside ads and articles, so readers could scan them and be taken to the digital edition. To get the Cuecat into widespread use, the company raised millions in the capital markets, then mass-manufactured these things and gave them away for free at Radio Shacks around the country. Every Wired and Forbes subscriber got one in the mail!

That was the good idea (it’s basically a prototype for today’s QR-codes). The terrible idea was that this gadget would spy on you. Also, it would only work with special barcodes that had to be licensed from the manufacturer. Also, it would only work on Windows.

https://web.archive.org/web/20001017162623/http://www.businessweek.com/bwdaily/dnflash/sep2000/nf20000928_029.htm

But the manufacturer didn’t have the last word! Not at all. A couple of enterprising hardware hackers — Pierre-Philippe Coupard and Michael Rothwell — tore down a Cuecat, dumped its ROM, and produced their own driver for it — a surveillance-free driver that worked with any barcode. You could use it to scan the UPCs on your books or CDs or DVDs to create a catalog of your media; you could use it to scan UPCs on your groceries to make a shopping list. You could do any and every one of these things, because the Cuecat was yours.

Cuecat’s manufacturer, Digital Convergence, did not like this at all. They sent out legal demand letters and even shut down some of the repositories that were hosting alternative Cuecat firmware. They changed the license agreement that came with the Cuecat software CD to prohibit reverse-engineering.

http://www.cexx.org/cuecat.htm

It didn’t matter, both as a practical matter and as a matter of law. As a practical matter, the (ahem) cat was out of the bag: there were so many web-hosting companies back then, and people mirrored the code to so many of them, the company would have its hands full chasing them all down and intimidating them into removing the code.

Then there was the law: how could you impose license terms on a gift? How could someone be bound by license terms on a CD that they simply threw away without ever opening it, much less putting it in their computer?

https://slashdot.org/story/00/09/18/1129226/digital-convergence-changes-eula-and-gets-cracked

In the end, Cuecat folded and sold off its remaining inventory. The early 2000s were not a good time to be a tech company, much less a tech company whose business model required millions of people to meekly accept a bad bargain.

Back then, tech users didn’t feel any obligation to please tech companies’ shareholders: if they backed a stupid business, that was their problem, not ours. Venture capitalists were capitalists — if they wanted us give to them according to their need and take from them according to their ability, they should be venture communists.

Last August, philosopher and Centre for Technomoral Futures director Shannon Vallor tweeted, “The saddest thing for me about modern tech’s long spiral into user manipulation and surveillance is how it has just slowly killed off the joy that people like me used to feel about new tech. Every product Meta or Amazon announces makes the future seem bleaker and grayer.”

https://twitter.com/ShannonVallor/status/1559659655097376768

She went on: “I don’t think it’s just my nostalgia, is it? There’s no longer anything being promised to us by tech companies that we actually need or asked for. Just more monitoring, more nudging, more draining of our data, our time, our joy.”

https://twitter.com/ShannonVallor/status/1559663985821106177

Today on Tumblr, @wilwheaton responded: “[T]here is very much no longer a feeling of ‘How can this change/improve my life?’ and a constant dread of ‘How will this complicate things as I try to maintain privacy and sanity in a world that demands I have this thing to operate.’”

https://wilwheaton.tumblr.com/post/698603648058556416/cory-doctorow-if-you-see-this-and-have-thoughts

Wil finished with, “Cory Doctorow, if you see this and have thoughts, I would LOVE to hear them.”

I’ve got thoughts. I think this all comes back to the Cuecat.

When the Cuecat launched, it was a mixed bag. That’s generally true of technology — or, indeed, any product or service. No matter how many variations a corporation offers, they can never anticipate all the ways that you will want or need to use their technology. This is especially true for the users the company values the least — poor people, people in the global south, women, sex workers, etc.

That’s what makes the phrase “So easy your mom can use it” particularly awful “Moms” are the kinds of people whose priorities and difficulties are absent from the room when tech designers gather to plan their next product. The needs of “moms” are mostly met by mastering, configuring and adapting technology, because tech doesn’t work out of the box for them:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/19/the-weakest-link/#moms-are-ninjas

(As an alternative, I advocate for “so easy your boss can use it,” because your boss gets to call up the IT department and shout, “I don’t care what it takes, just make it work!” Your boss can solve problems through raw exercise of authority, without recourse to ingenuity.)

Technology can’t be understood separately from technology users. This is the key insight in Donald Norman’s 2004 book Emotional Design, which argued that the ground state of all technology is broken, and the overarching task of tech users is to troubleshoot the things they use:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/04/29/banjo-nazis/#cuckoos-egg

Troubleshooting is both an art and a science: it requires both a methodical approach and creative leaps. The great crisis of troubleshooting is that the more frustrated and angry you are, the harder it is to be methodical or creative. Anger turns attention into a narrow tunnel of brittle movements and thinking.

In Emotional Design, Norman argues that technology should be beautiful and charming, because when you like a technology that has stopped working, you are able to troubleshoot it in an expansive, creative, way. Emotional Design was not merely remarkable for what it said, but for who said it.

Donald Norman, after all, was the author of the hugely influential 1998 classic The Design of Everyday Things, which counseled engineers and designers to put function over form — to design things that work well, even if that meant stripping away ornament and sidelining aesthetics.

https://www.basicbooks.com/titles/don-norman/the-design-of-everyday-things/9780465050659/

With Emotional Design, Norman argued that aesthetics were functional, because aesthetics primed users to fix the oversights and errors and blind spots of designers. It was a manifesto for competence and humility.

And yet, as digital technology has permeated deeper into our lives, it has grown less configurable, not more. Companies today succeed where Cuecat failed. Consolidation in the online world means that if you remove a link from one search engine and four social media sites, the material in question vanishes for 99% of internet users.

It’s even worse for apps: anyone who succeeds in removing an app from two app stores essentially banishes it from the world. One mobile platform uses technological and legal countermeasures to make it virtually impossible to sideload an app; the other one relies on strong-arm tactics and deceptive warnings to do so.

That means that when a modern Coupard and Rothwell decides to unfuck some piece of technology — to excise the surveillance and proprietary media requirements, leaving behind the welcome functionality — they can only do so with the sufferance of the manufacturer. If the manufacturer doesn’t like an add-on, mod, plug-in or overlay, they can use copyright takedowns, anticircumvention law, patent threats, trademark threats, cybersecurity law, contract law and other “IP” to simply banish the offending code:

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

Many of these laws carry dire penalties. For example, distributing a tool that bypasses an “access control” so that you can change the software on a gadget (say, to make your printer accept third-party ink) is a felony under Section 1201 of the DMCA, punishable by a $500k fine and a 5-year prison sentence.

If Cuecat’s manufacturers had simply skinned their firmware with a thin scrim of DRM, they could have threatened Coupard and Rothwell with prison sentences. The developments in “IP” over the two decades since the Cuecat have conjured up a new body of de facto law that Jay Freeman calls “felony contempt of business model.”

Once we gave companies the power to literally criminalize the reconfiguration of their products, everything changed. In the Cuecat era, a corporate meeting to plan a product that acted against its users’ interests had to ask, “How will we sweeten the pot and/or obfuscate our code so that our users don’t remove the anti-features we’re planning to harm them with?”

But in a world of Felony Contempt of Business Model, that discussion changes to “Given that we can literally imprison anyone who helps our users get more out of this product, how can we punish users who are disloyal enough to simply quit our service or switch away from our product?”

That is, “how can we raise the switching costs of our products so that users who are angry at us keep using our products?” When Facebook was planning its photos product, they deliberately designed it to tempt users into making it the sole repository of their family photos, in order to hold those photos ransom to keep Facebook users from quitting for G+:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/08/facebooks-secret-war-switching-costs

Companies claim that their lock-in strategies are about protecting their users: “Move into our walled garden, for it is a fortress, whose battlements bristle with fearsome warriors who will defend you from the bandits who roam the countryside”:

https://locusmag.com/2021/01/cory-doctorow-neofeudalism-and-the-digital-manor/

But this “feudal security” offers a terrible temptation to the lords of these fortresses, because once you are inside those walls, the fortress can easily be converted to a prison: these companies can abuse you with impunity, for so long as the cost of the abuse is less than the cost of the things you must give up when you leave.

The tale that companies block you from overriding their decisions is for your own good was always dubious, because companies simply can’t anticipate all the ways their products will fail you. No design team knows as much about your moment-to-moment struggles as you do.

But even where companies are sincere in their desire to be the most benevolent of dictators, the gun on the mantelpiece in Act I is destined to go off by Act III: eventually, the temptation to profit by hurting you will overpower whatever “corporate ethics” once stayed the hand of the techno-feudalist who rules over your fortress. Under feudal security, you are one lapse in corporate leadership from your protector turning into your tormentor.

When Apple launched the Ipad 12 years ago, I published an editorial entitled “Why I won’t buy an iPad (and think you shouldn’t, either),” in which I predicted that app stores would inevitable be turned against users:

https://memex.craphound.com/2010/04/01/why-i-wont-buy-an-ipad-and-think-you-shouldnt-either/

Today, Apple bans apps if they “use…a third-party service” unless they “are specifically permitted to do so under the service’s terms of use.” In other words, Apple specifically prohibits developers from offering tools that displease other companies’ shareholders, no matter whether this pleases Apple customers:

https://developer.apple.com/app-store/review/guidelines/#intellectual-property

Note that clause 5.2.2 of Apple’s developer agreement doesn’t say “You mustn’t violate a legally enforceable term of service.” It just says, “Thou shalt not violate a EULA.” EULAs are garbage-novellas of impenetrable legalese, larded with unenforceable and unconscionable terms.

Apple sometimes will displease other companies on your behalf. For example, it instituted a one-click anti-tracking setting for Ios that cost Facebook $10 billion in a matter of months:

https://www.cnbc.com/2022/02/02/facebook-says-apple-ios-privacy-change-will-cost-10-billion-this-year.html

But Apple also has big plans to expand its margins by growing its own advertising network. When Apple customers choose ad-blockers that block Apple’s ads, will Apple permit it?

https://www.wired.com/story/apple-is-an-ad-company-now/

The problem with app stores isn’t whether your computing experience is “curated” — that is, whether entities you trust can produce collections of software they vouch for. The problem is when you can’t choose someone else — when leaving a platform involves high switching costs, whether that’s having to replace hardware, buy new media, or say goodbye to your friends, customers, community or family.

When a company can leverage its claims to protecting you to protect itself from you — from choices you might make that ultimately undermine its shareholders interests, even if they protect your own interests — it would be pretty goddamned naive to expect it to do otherwise.

More and more of our tools are now digital tools, whether we’re talking about social media or cars, tractors or games consoles, toothbrushes or ovens:

https://www.hln.be/economie/gentse-foodboxleverancier-mealhero-failliet-klanten-weten-van-niets~a3139f52/

And more and more, those digital tools look more like apps than Cuecats, with companies leveraging “IP” to let them control who can compete with them — and how. Indeed, browsers are becoming more app-like, rather than the other way around.

Back in 2017, the W3C took the unprecedented step of publishing a DRM standard despite this standard not having anything like the consensus that is the norm for W3C publications, and the W3C rejected a proposal to protect people who reverse-engineered that standard to add accessibility features or correct privacy defects:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2017/09/open-letter-w3c-director-ceo-team-and-membership

And while we’re seeing remarkable progress on Right to Repair and other policies that allow the users of technology to override the choices of vendors, there’s another strong regulatory current that embraces companies’ ability to control their users, in the hopes that these big companies will police their users to prevent bad stuff, from controversial measures like filtering for copyright infringement to more widely supported ideas like blocking child sex abuse material (CSAM, AKA “child porn”).

There are two problems with this. First, if we tell companies they must control their users (that is, block them from running plugins, mods, skins, filters, etc) then we can’t tell them that they must not control their users. It comes down to whether you want to make Mark Zuckerberg better at his job, or whether you want to abolish the job of “Mark Zuckerberg.”

https://doctorow.medium.com/unspeakable-8c7bbd4974bc

Then there’s the other problem — the gun on the mantelpiece problem. If we give big companies the power to control their users, they will face enormous internal pressure to abuse that power. This isn’t a hypothetical risk: Facebook’s top executives stand accused of accepting bribes from Onlyfans in exchange for adding performers who left Onlyfans to a terrorist watchlist, which meant they couldn’t use other platforms:

https://gizmodo.com/clegg-meta-executives-identified-in-onlyfans-bribery-su-1849649270

I’m not a fan of terrorist watchlists, for obvious reasons. But letting Facebook manage the terrorist watchlist was clearly a mistake. But Facebook’s status as a “trusted reporter” grows directly out of Facebook’s good work on moderation. The lesson is the same as the one with Apple and the ads — just because the company sometimes acts in our interests, it doesn’t follow that we should always trust them to do so.

Back to Shannon Vallor’s question about the origins of “modern tech’s long spiral into user manipulation and surveillance” and how that “killed off the joy that people like me used to feel about new tech”; and Wil Wheaton’s “constant dread of ‘How will this complicate things as I try to maintain privacy and sanity.”

Tech leaders didn’t get stupider or crueler since those halcyon days. The tech industry was and is filled with people who made their bones building weapons of mass destruction for the military-industrial complex; IBM, the company that gave us the PC, built the tabulating machines for Nazi concentration camps:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/IBM_and_the_Holocaust

We didn’t replace tech investors and leaders with worse people — we have the same kinds of people but we let them get away with more. We let them buy up all their competitors. We let them use the law to lock out competitors they couldn’t buy, including those who would offer their customers tools to lower their switching costs and block abusive anti-features.

We decided to create “Felony Contempt of Business Model,” and let the creators of the next Cuecat reach beyond the walls of their corporate headquarters and into the homes of their customers, the offices of their competitors, and the handful of giant tech sites that control our online discourse, to reach into those places and strangle anything that interfered with their commercial desires.

That’s why plans to impose interoperability on tech giants are so exciting — because the problem with Facebook isn’t “the people I want to speak to are all gathered in one convenient place,” no more than the problem with app stores isn’t “these companies generally have good judgment about which apps I want to use.”

The problem is that when those companies don’t have your back, you have to pay a blisteringly high price to leave their walled gardens. That’s where interop comes in. Think of how an interoperable Facebook could let you leave behind Zuckerberg’s dominion without forswearing access to the people who matter to you:

https://www.eff.org/interoperablefacebook

Cuecats were cool. The people who made them were assholes. Interop meant that you could get the cool gadget and tell the assholes to fuck off. We have lost the ability to do so, little by little, for decades, and that’s why a new technology that seems cool no longer excites. That’s why we feel dread — because we know that a cool technology is just bait to lure us into a prison that masquerades as a fortress.

Image: Jerry Whiting (modified) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:CueCat_barcode_scanner.jpg

CC BY-SA 3.0: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/deed.en

[Image ID: A Cuecat scanner with a bundled cable and PS/2 adapter; it resembles a plastic cat and also, slightly, a sex toy. It is posed on a Matrix movie 'code waterfall' background and limned by a green 'supernova' light effect.]

#pluralistic

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coldfanbou · 5 months

Text

TM IS Side Stories: Clothes

New side story for @twice-inamillion

“Sana! Come down for a moment.” Hearing her mother call her, Sana and Dahyun make their way down to the living room. “Dahyun, sit here, honey.” She says, patting the seat next to her. Dahyun gives the woman a small smile and sits beside her. Dahyun looks into the box in front of her before Sana's mom closes the lid. “No peeking.” She says with a mischievous smile. Sana takes a seat across from her mother.

“What did you need, Mom?”

“I have somethings to show you. Both of you.” Sana's mother opens the lid to the box and pulls out a tiny purple onesie. A huge smile appears on Sana as she sees the tiny clothes. She reaches out for it and is given it. She holds it gingerly as she takes it all in. “That’s not all.” Her mother says before pulling out a white one and handing it to Dahyun. Sana's mother pulls out more colors, laying them out in front of Sana. Red, green, and blue are among others.

“Why did you buy so many, Mom?” Sana asks, her smile still plastered on her face.

“I want to see who their favorite member is going to be.” She jokingly responds. Sana looked at all the colors again before realizing her mom had chosen the members’ colors.

“Mom!” Sana shouts, waving the purple onesie at her. “They're going to like me the best!” Her mom and Dahyun can't help but laugh.

“I'm just joking.” Sana's mom continues to pull out more baby clothes, little suits, and some clothes that resemble what you usually wear.

Dahyun picked those clothes up, pointing and laughing. “He's going to look just like his daddy.” Dahyun hands the clothes to Sana, who takes a closer look at them.

“He's going to look just like him.” She says quietly, with tears of joy flooding her eyes. Sana holds the baby's clothes to her chest and moves from side to side. “I can't wait for him to be here.”

“Yah, don't cry yet.” Her mom says, playfully smacking Sana with one of the onesies. She pulls out a catalog of clothes, “we have so much more to look at.” She gets up and sits beside Sana before waving to Dahyun. “You too, Dahyun. We need your opinions, too.” With Sana stuck in the middle, the three women pick and choose what they think the baby would look good in.

When Sana's father comes, he sees the mess left in the living room and sighs. “I know you're all excited, but look at the mess you made.” Clothes were scattered about the living room, pages from the catalog were torn out, and on the floor, each with items circled.

“Honey, this is our first grandchild.” Sana's mom says sternly as she glares at him. He raises his hands and walks away, aware that he would be in trouble if he said anything more. The women continue looking through the book until it turns to night. “Okay, so we've got it down to these.” The older woman says, holding three pages' worth of items.

She looked outside and saw how dark it was. “We should get to bed. Don't stay up too late, girls. We can clean this mess up tomorrow.” The woman says as she gets up and heads to her room.

“Mom!” Sana shouts back. Dahyun pats her members back before helping her up. The pair head back to Sana's room, getting ready for bed.

“Thanks for inviting me over. It's nice being with your family.”

“Of course. They love you too.” Dahyun stares at Sana's belly as her member prepares to put on her pajamas. She places her hand on Sana's growing belly. The act makes Sana blush. “He's getting bigger.”

“He is,” Dahyun replies as she rubs her member's belly. “Do you think he'll be an idol too?”

“Maybe, but I don't really care. He's going to be my little man.” Sana says with a soft smile, her teeth showing as she imagines what her baby will be like. “I hope he looks like his father.”

“Aw, but he would be so cute if he had some of your features.” Dahyun finishes getting dressed and helps Sana. Sana laughs at the younger woman's comment.

“Do you think he'll protect the girls? Or are they going to protect him?” Sana says, rubbing her belly.

“If he's anything like his dad, he'll protect them. Let's get to bed.” Sana and Dahyun lay beside each other, with Dahyun acting as the big spoon. They both place their hands on Sana's belly. “I'm so happy for you, Sana,” Dahyun says with a yawn. “It’s going to be so fun watching him play with Daeun. I can already see her trying to teach him how.”

Sana smiles at the idea. “Daeun is going to be great with him. I'm sure Hina will try to keep him away from Ari and Jisoo.” The pair laugh. “We're going to have such a big family.”

“Just wait until the others get pregnant too.”

“I don't think Jeongyeon is going to want that.”

“Nayeon's been telling me Jeongyeon is getting warmer with him,” Dahyun smirks at the idea of Jeongyeon falling for you. It was funny.

“I'll believe it when I see it.” The women chat into the night, slowly falling asleep. Before she did, though, Sana grabbed her phone and looked at the ultrasounds of her baby. She smiled to herself as she looked through her photos and posted something for Once. She puts her phone down and drifts off into sleep.

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