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pucksandpower · 2 months

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Brake Balance

Charles Leclerc x mafiosa!Reader

Summary: something about the brake issues that Charles had to deal with in Bahrain just seems off … so you take matters into your own hands while your boyfriend is none the wiser

Warnings: depictions of violence and minor-character murder

You make your way through the paddock of the Bahrain International Circuit, weaving between team members and mechanics as they go about their pre-race routines. The energy in the air is electric, everyone buzzing with anticipation for the first race of the season later tonight.

You flash your paddock pass at security and head into the Ferrari garage, eyes scanning the organized chaos for the familiar mop of brown hair.

There he is, sitting in his red race suit that matches the iconic color of the Ferrari he drives, focused intently as his mechanics make some last minute adjustments. You walk up behind Charles and place your hands over his eyes.

“Guess who?” You say playfully.

Charles reaches up and removes your hands, a smile breaking across his face as he turns in his seat. “Ah, mon cœur! My favorite surprise.”

You lean down and kiss him softly. “How are things looking for today?”

“Good, good,” he nods. “The team had to change the left front brake duct exit deflector earlier, just as a precaution. But I’m feeling optimistic, the car has been solid all weekend. I think I might even be able to challenge Max for the win if everything goes to plan.”

His confidence makes you smile. Charles has been working so hard, both physically and mentally, to start this season strong. You know a win today would mean the world to him.

“I’ll be cheering the loudest when I see you on that top step today,” you say.

Charles grins. “We’ll see. Still have a race to get through first.”

You lean in to give him a quick kiss and head to the back of the garage so you’re out of the way. The mechanics are in full focus mode now, choreographing their dance around Charles’ car with practiced precision.

Charles goes through his usual pre-race routine — sips of water, reviewing data on the screens, and loosening up his muscles. He’s the picture of calm, but you know him well enough to see the coiled adrenaline thrumming just under the surface, ready to be unleashed once he settles into the cockpit.

The time comes to head out to the grid. Charles pauses before he puts his helmet on, meeting your gaze. You close the distance between you and cup his face in your hands, kissing his lips sweetly. Then you take the helmet from him and slide it gently into place, brushing your lips over the smooth surface where his would be.

“Be safe out there,” you say softly.

He nods, face disappearing behind the tinted visor, and climbs into the Ferrari. You watch as the car pulls away, weaving between other vehicles making their way to the starting grid. With a deep breath, you head deeper into the garage and take a seat next to Charles’ performance coach, Andrea. He hands you a headset so you can listen to Charles’ radio during the race.

“Let’s hope for a good one today,” Andrea says.

You nod, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you fit the headset over your ears. On the monitors, you see Charles lining up on the grid in P2 after the formation lap, Max Verstappen’s Red Bull beside him on the front row in P1. The lights go out and the cars leap forward, engines roaring to life. Charles gets a good start, but Max keeps the lead through the first few turns.

The pack of cars higher up on the starting grid stays bunched up through the first few turns, but then you notice Charles starting to fall back little by little. His lap time slows as Max opens up a gap in front.

“The car doesn’t feel right, something with the front end,” Charles says. Your brow furrows in concern.

Only a lap later, George Russell in the Mercedes overtakes Charles on turn 4. Then Perez in the other Red Bull breezes past not long after.

“Come on Charles, stay focused,” you murmur under your breath. But things only seem to be getting worse. Carlos battles with Charles and eventually gets by, which frustrates you to no end. Charles fighting his own teammate for position is the last thing you want to see.

“Something felt very wrong with this set, the fronts were locking up like crazy,” Charles reports over the radio. Your heart sinks. Andrea shakes his head, equally perplexed.

The issues continue to persist. “What’s going on with my front left?” Charles asks, audible tension in his voice. “I just cannot get out of front locking. Everywhere ...”

Xavi, his race engineer, replies calmly, “We have temperature imbalance, higher front left.”

“How much is the imbalance?” Charles asks.

“Around 100 degrees.”

You grimace. That kind of discrepancy could make the car undriveable. Sure enough, Charles continues to struggle. It’s clear he’s fighting with the car now rather than racing the drivers around him.

“My car is fully going to the right when I am braking. With this I cannot fight, it’s dangerous,” Charles says, frustration seeping into his tone. You chew your lip anxiously. The rational part of you wishes Charles would just retire the car before he gets himself hurt trying to wrestle with it. But you also know that’s never been in Charles’ nature — he’ll keep fighting until the very last lap, no matter what.

Lap after lap, Charles battles to keep the car under control. “I think we can forget about driving now. It’s pulling everywhere,” he finally concedes. For a brief moment, you wonder if he’ll pull into the pits and call it a day. But no, your boyfriend is never one to simply give up. After the radio, through sheer force of will, Charles somehow overtakes George to reclaim P4. You can only imagine how hard he must be having to fight to keep the car in the track.

In the end, it’s a disappointing P4 for Charles while his teammate makes it on the podium in P3. As Carlos is lead to the cooldown room with Max and Checo, you watch Charles, frustration etched across his face as he tugs off his helmet and balaclava. He doesn’t even glance your way before the mechanics descend on him to start looking over the car.

Clearly the brake issues have cost him any chance at challenging for the win today. Most other drivers would have given up even trying to reclaim P4. But not your Charles. Never your Charles. Your heart aches for him.

Charles gets led away swiftly for the usual post-race weighing and interviews. You know from his body language that he’s utterly deflated by today’s results.

While the reporters pepper him with questions, you pull out your phone and scroll through your contacts. Enough is enough — something is clearly not right with Charles’ car and you want answers.

Your finger hovers over the call button as you contemplate who to reach out to. The last thing you want is for Charles to have to fight against his own machine again. A solution needs to be found immediately, and you know just the person who can help.

With a determined nod, you press call and lift the phone to your ear, ready to get to the bottom of these brake issues once and for all.

***

The phone only rings once before a gruff voice answers. “Boss?”

“Hello, Gianluca,” you say. “I need you to do something for me.”

You go on to explain in detail the brake issues Charles faced during the race, how the problems started right after they replaced the left front brake duct exit deflector.

“I don’t think it was just bad luck,” you say. “Something seems off about the whole situation. I want you to look into it, see if anyone on Charles’ side of the garage could have tampered with his car.”

Gianluca is quiet for a moment. “Sabotage, you think?”

“Possibly. I just … I can’t shake this feeling that someone meant for this to happen to Charles’ car. He truly thought he could at least try to challenge Max for the win, then suddenly it’s like he’s driving an entirely different machine. Too much of a coincidence for my liking.”

“I’ll look into it boss, don’t you worry,” Gianluca says. “I’ll go through the team with a fine tooth comb, see if anything seems out of the ordinary. If someone did intentionally compromise Charles’ car, I’ll find out who and how.”

You let out a breath. “Thank you, Gianluca. Let me know as soon as you learn anything. Charles can’t afford issues like this again.”

“You got it. I’ll be in touch.”

The call ends and you lean back against the garage wall, gaze fixed unseeingly out across the pit lane. Your mind turns over the events of the race, Charles’ baffled frustration over the radio. He’s worked too hard for too long to have valuable points stolen away by something like this. If there is sabotage afoot within the team, you’ll get to the bottom of it.

A few days later you’re back in your study after flying home from Bahrain. A knock at the door interrupts your work and you call for them to enter. Gianluca steps in, an uncharacteristically grim look on his face.

“Boss,” he greets you. Wordlessly, he steps forward and places a thick manila folder on your desk. You flip it open, eyes scanning over photos, documents, even what looks like stills of CCTV footage. Gianluca remains silent, allowing you to take it all in.

“I went over every inch of security camera video from the Bahrain paddock and garage,” Gianluca finally says. “And I found something.”

He leans over your desk and flips to a page in the folder, tapping a finger on a freeze frame showing one of Charles’ mechanics.

“This is Tomaso, one of the brake technicians,” Gianluca explains. “I noticed him acting strange all race day. Fidgety. Nervous. He was trying to hide it but his body language gave it away.”

Your eyes narrow as you study the photo. There is a shifty, almost guilty look about the man as he glances over his shoulder.

“I watched him like a hawk after that,” Gianluca continues. “When the team went to change the brake duct exit deflector, that’s when I saw it happen.”

He flips to another page, this one showing screen captures of CCTV footage in the Ferrari garage a few hours before the race start. You can make out Tomaso slipping the replacement deflector into his pocket before taking out another piece and installing it in Charles’ car. Your blood turns cold.

“He tampered with the part,” Gianluca confirms grimly. “There’s no doubt in my mind he switched that deflector with a compromised one. Sabotage, just like you suspected.”

You sit back, shaking your head in disgusted disbelief. “Why? Why would he do this?”

Gianluca shrugs. “Hard to say for sure. Could be someone paid him off, wants to see Charles fail. But what I know for certain is that he meant to damage Charles’ car.”

You drum your fingers on your desk, thinking hard. This level of betrayal from someone Charles trusts, it’s unthinkable. An affront you won’t let stand.

“You’ve done excellent work, Gianluca,” you finally say, meeting his gaze. “Thank you for getting to the bottom of this. I’ll handle it from here.”

Gianluca nods. “Of course, boss. Let me know if you need anything else.”

He turns and leaves your study, closing the door quietly behind him. You lean back in your chair, fingers steepled under your chin. Your expression is stone, but internally your thoughts roil with anger. Tomaso will pay for this, you’ll see to that.

Charles has enough challenges to face without sabotage from his own team. Your resolve hardens — you won’t stop until justice is served and he can race with full confidence again. The treachery ends now.

***

After Gianluca leaves, your mind turns over what to do about Tomaso. The team flew straight from Bahrain to Saudi Arabia to prepare for the next race, so he’s out of your reach for now. Still, you won’t let him slip away that easily. You pick up your phone and call a trusted associate, instructing him to organize a surveillance team to keep constant eyes on Tomaso until you arrive in Jeddah yourself.

The days crawl by painfully slow as you wait to confront the saboteur. You resist the urge to call Fred Vasseur and have Tomaso removed from the team immediately — better to handle this yourself. Finally, it’s time to fly out for the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix. Upon landing, your associate meets you at the airport.

“We have eyes on the target,” he reports. “He’s currently at the hotel bar, quite intoxicated.”

You nod curtly. “Good. Let’s pay him a visit.”

You’re led to the hotel and pointed towards the bar. Sure enough, there’s Tomaso, stumbling drunkenly out the door into the night. Now is your chance. You follow him down the street, waiting until he turns into a shadowy alley to make your move. In a flash you have him by the collar, shoving him against the brick wall.

“What the hell, let me go!” Tomaso slurs, trying to shove you off. But drinking has made him clumsy and weak.

“I don’t think so, Tomaso,” you reply coldly. “We need to have a little chat.”

His eyes widen in fear and confusion. You press on before he can respond.

“Let’s see, Tomaso Barbieri, born May 5th, 1992 in Turin. Moved to Maranello in 2021 to begin work as a mechanic with Scuderia Ferrari. Parents Lucia and Giacomo Barbieri, both schoolteachers. Sister Cecilia studying abroad in London.”

As you rattle off details about his personal life, Tomaso’s eyes grow wider and wider.

“What the hell, how do you know all that?” He stammers. “Who are you? Does Charles know the ugly truth about his girlfriend?”

You fix him with an icy stare. “Who I am doesn’t matter. What matters is that I know exactly who you are, Tomaso. A mechanic for Ferrari … and apparently a master of espionage and sabotage in your spare time.”

Tomaso’s eyes dart wildly, still trying to make sense of the situation in his inebriated state. He attempts an unconvincing laugh.

“What are you talking about man? Sabotage? I think you’ve had too much to drink ...”

Your response is to slam him hard against the wall, causing him to grunt in pain. You lean in close, anger simmering in your eyes.

“Let’s cut the bullshit, Tomaso. I know what you did in Bahrain, switching out the brake duct deflector to sabotage Charles’ car. Did you think you could get away with it? That there wouldn’t be consequences?”

Up close, you can see the color drain from his face, eyes wide with fear. He tries to retain some composure.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he repeats weakly. “I would never sabotage Charles’ car, I want him to win ...”

You slam him against the wall again, cutting off his lies.

“I said, enough bullshit!” you snarl. “We have you on video. We saw everything. We know you pocketed the real deflector and installed a defective one instead.”

He is trembling now, any hint of drunkenness replaced by sobering fear.

“Please,” he whimpers pathetically. “I’ll do anything, just please let me go. I made a mistake ...”

You shake your head in disgust. “A mistake? You betrayed Charles’ trust and tried to ruin his race out of what? Jealousy? Greed?”

Tomaso says nothing, eyes downcast in shame. You take a breath and continue in a low, menacing tone.

“Here are your options. One: you go directly to Vasseur first thing in the morning and resign from Ferrari immediately. You will leave the team and ensure you are never so much as in the same country as Charles again. Two: I deal with you myself, in a much less pleasant manner. The choice is yours, Tomaso. What’s it going to be?”

He meets your steely gaze again, jaw clenched. “I can’t just quit,” he says hoarsely. “My job is my life. You might as well just kill me.”

You purse your lips and shake your head. “I was afraid you’d say that. Very well.”

In one swift motion you draw your gun from its concealed holster and press the barrel firmly under Tomaso’s chin. He recoils in terror, plastered back against the wall.

“Last chance,” you say calmly. “Walk away from Ferrari and never look back, or your days end tonight in this alley.”

Sweat drips down his brow as the gun digs harder into his throat. His eyes are saucers of fear, flitting between your steely gaze and the weapon poised to end his life.

“Well?” You ask after a long silence. “What’s it going to be?”

Tomaso swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing against the gun barrel. When he speaks, his voice is a terrified croak.

“I … I won’t quit. I can’t.” He closes his eyes in resignation, awaiting his fate.

You click your tongue in disappointment. “That’s unfortunate. I wish it hadn’t come to this.”

Your finger tightens almost imperceptibly on the trigger …

“Wait, wait!” Tomaso cries out, hands raised in desperation. “I’ll do it, I’ll quit! Just please, don’t hurt me!”

You pause, gun still aimed steadily at his throat. “And why should I believe you now?”

He swallows hard, eyes brimming with tears. “I swear, I’ll resign first thing tomorrow. You’ll never see me near the team again. Just let me go, I’m begging you!”

You consider him coldly for a moment before lowering the gun. Tomaso sags back against the wall in relief. But you’re not done with him yet.

“Who paid you?” You demand. “Who put you up to sabotaging Charles’ car?”

The blood drains from his face again. “I can’t tell you that. They’ll kill me, and my family ...”

In a flash the gun is back at his throat, your grip like iron on his shirt collar.

“I assure you, I can do much worse than they ever could,” you say menacingly. “Now give me a name, or you can say goodbye.”

Tomaso shakes uncontrollably, tears streaming down his face. You can see the internal struggle, debating which is the lesser evil — defying you or those he conspired with. Finally, he slumps in defeat and leans in close, voice barely a whisper.

“It was ...”

He utters a name directly into your ear. Your eyes widen briefly in surprise before narrowing again. You release Tomaso and take a step back, processing this new information.

“I see,” you say slowly. You nod over your shoulder and two of your associates emerge from the shadows.

“Get him out of my sight,” you order. They grab Tomaso roughly by the arms. He sags between them, the fight gone out of him completely. You fix him with an icy stare.

“My men will escort you to the airport,” you inform him. “You will be on the first flight out of this hemisphere. And you are never to go near Ferrari or Charles again — don’t even think about trying to contact the team to explain yourself. As far as they will be concerned, you simply resigned. Am I clear?”

Tomaso nods wordlessly, defeated. The men begin dragging him away towards a waiting black SUV.

“Oh, and Tomaso?” You call after him. He glances back warily. “If I ever see or hear of you so much as setting foot in a paddock again, you won’t get a second chance. You’ll simply disappear. Permanently.”

The color drains from his face one final time. Then he is shoved into the back of the SUV, the door slamming shut behind him. You watch impassively as the vehicle drives off into the night, carrying the saboteur away for good.

Or so he thinks.

Unbeknownst to Tomaso, you have contacts everywhere, including at his destination. The second he steps off the plane, thinking he’s escaped your wrath, your local associates will be waiting. And his life will be ended swiftly and permanently, as promised. You don't make idle threats after all.

Betrayal of this magnitude must be punished, no matter how far Tomaso runs. The message will be clear — cross you, and nowhere on Earth will be safe. You've given the order, and your associates are nothing if not ruthlessly efficient. By the time the sun rises, there will be one less threat to Charles’ success. The sabotage ends here and now. You'll see to that personally, no matter the cost.

For a moment you simply stand alone in the dark alley, processing everything. This is bigger than you initially realized. Tomaso was clearly just a pawn, the sabotage orchestrated by someone higher up the chain — someone with enough power and influence to scare a man into risking his career and life.

Your jaw clenches as you think about Charles being targeted like this, not only being robbed of a deserved finish but also put in danger as collateral. Well, it ends now. The shadowy orchestrator thinks they can get away with playing games in the dark? They’re about to realize just how big of a mistake they’ve made.

Now that you have a name, you can start unraveling the web, tracing every thread back to find where it leads. And when you do find the spider at the center? You’ll make sure they can never endanger Charles again. For good.

Satisfied with this plan, you straighten your dress and exit the alley onto the brighter streets. Time to put your considerable resources to work. Phone records, financials, travel records — you’ll dig through it all, leave no stone unturned.

And you have a feeling the name Tomaso gave you is only the first thread. This goes deeper. But it doesn’t matter. You’ve dealt with far more dangerous criminal elements before. These shadow games don’t scare you. You’ll keep following the threads until you reach the source, uprooting the entire enterprise in the process.

By the time you reach your car, your phone is already buzzing with incoming calls and updates from your associates. They know the drill by now — when you give the word, they mobilize into action immediately, utilizing the full extent of your influence and power.

For you, they’ll tap every resource, call in every favor owed. Because you protect what’s yours at all costs. And Charles? He’s under your protection now, whether he knows it or not. So for his sake, you’re going to find the ones trying to undermine him, and you’re going to tear out the threat root and stem. Permanently.

Let them keep playing their games for now, oblivious to the axe hanging over their heads. They’ll find out soon enough that nobody crosses you and gets away with it. And when that time comes, no mercy will be shown. No loose ends left to unravel.

Time to remind them exactly why your reputation precedes you in certain circles, why your name is uttered only in hushed whispers. They’ll regret the day they dared threaten someone you care about. You’ll see to that personally.

With your jaw set in determination, you climb into the idling car. Time to go hunting.

***

Two days after dealing with Tomaso, you make your way through the Jeddah Corniche Circuit paddock towards the Ferrari motorhome.

Your stiletto heels click along the pavement and you glance down, frowning slightly at the flecks of blood still staining the pointed toes of your red soles. Such a shame about these Louboutins, you really love this pair. But a bit of blood is a small price to pay for protecting Charles, especially after personally dealing with the orchestrator who had been paying Tomaso off.

You had tracked them down and made sure they could never threaten Charles’ success again. Subtly, you crouch down and wipe at the stains, managing to remove the worst of it.

Satisfied, you straighten and continue on your way. The familiar bright red motorhome comes into view and you sweep inside, immediately spotting Charles standing with some team members. His face lights up when he sees you, excusing himself to rush over.

“Mon amour, you made it!” He exclaims, enveloping you in a tight hug. You melt against him, breathing in his familiar scent.

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss seeing you race for anything,” you reply, pecking his lips sweetly.

Charles takes your hand, leading you to a quiet corner where you can talk. “I missed you so much while you were away,” he says. “But I’m so glad you’re here now.”

You smile and stroke his cheek. “Me too, darling. But I’m here now and I’ll be cheering the loudest for you all race.”

Charles’ grin falters a bit. “It’s been a strange few days actually. Tomaso, one of my mechanics, just up and quit in the middle of the week. No explanation or anything.”

You school your features into a look of surprise. “Really? That’s so odd.”

Charles nods. “Very weird timing to just resign like that. But maybe it’s for the best if his heart wasn’t fully in it anymore.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” you agree. “The team is better off without any negativity.”

Before Charles can reply, Andrea enters the motorhome. “Charles, time for some quick physio before the race.”

Charles sighs but nods, giving you a swift kiss before following Andrea out. You watch him go fondly before making your way trackside to the Ferrari garage. The mechanics are in race mode, voices terse and movements precise as they make final adjustments on Charles’ car.

You stay back, letting them work, thoughts drifting back to everything you did to get to this point. A small price to pay to ensure Charles can race with a fair chance again.

Finally it’s time for Charles to get in the car. You approach as he’s putting on his helmet and balaclava, stealing a tender kiss that he returns happily. Then you lift the helmet and slide it gently into place, brushing your lips softly over the smooth surface where his lips would be. Your ritual.

“Be safe out there,” you murmur. Charles squeezes your hand, then lowers himself into the cockpit. You watch tensely as the car pulls away, the lights of the circuit glittering against the dark night sky.

In the garage you pace anxiously throughout the race, listening to the radio chatter. Again Charles qualified P2, behind Max Verstappen’s Red Bull. But this time, you have no sabotage to worry about. The Ferrari proves fast and consistent all race, not quite keeping pace with the Red Bull but allowing Charles to maintain P2 smoothly.

The SF-24 doesn’t have the speed to challenge Max, but there’s no issues, no sudden grip loss or components failing. Your shoulders finally uncoil with relief as Charles crosses the line to take P2, securing a podium finish.

The garage explodes into cheers and applause as Charles pulls into parc fermé. He’s beaming as he climbs from the car, pulling off his gloves and balaclava. You run over to the barriers and throw your arms around him ecstatically as soon as he nears.

“I’m so proud of you!” You exclaim. Charles hugs you back tightly.

“Thank you, mon cœur,” he says warmly. “It felt good to finally have a clean race again.”

You just smile knowingly, heart bursting with joy at seeing Charles on the podium where he belongs. During the celebrations, he keeps meeting your gaze in the crowd, smiling and pointing down to you in the crowd of red. As he sprays champagne with Max and Checo, he looks utterly elated and at peace. No frustration or disappointment, just the satisfaction of a hard fought race with the result he deserved.

Afterwards, in the privacy of Charles’ room, he takes you into his arms again. “I don’t know what changed or why, but the car just felt right this weekend,” he says. “It makes me so optimistic for the rest of the season.”

You stroke his face gently. “You deserve it. All your hard work is paying off.” Inside, you allow yourself a small, satisfied smile. Charles doesn’t need to know just how much work went on behind the scenes to get here. He only needs to focus on driving his heart out, and securing the championships you know he’s destined for. The rest is simply details.

“Thank you again for being here,” Charles murmurs, pulling you close. “Having your support means everything to me.”

You rest your head on his shoulder contentedly. “Always, my love. I’ll be right by your side.” And you mean that with every fiber of your being. No matter what happens going forward, whoever tries to interfere or stand in Charles’ way, they’ll have to go through you first.

You won’t let anyone toy with Charles’ performance and safety again. The lesson has been sent — Charles is untouchable now. Dare to threaten the success that is his, and you’ll come for what’s theirs.

But Charles doesn’t need to carry that burden. He just needs to keep his head held high and drive his heart out. You’ll handle the rest. It’s the least you can do for the man you love more than life itself.

So as Charles holds you close, you silently promise to always shield him from the ugly underbelly that lurks beneath the glitz and glamour of Formula 1.

He gives so much of himself already in pursuit of greatness. Let others vie for power and influence through dirty tricks and mind games. That’s not Charles’ way, which is why you’ll ensure he remains untainted. For him, you’d walk through fire without a second thought.

So really, what’s a little blood on your Louboutins in the grand scheme of things? A man like Charles Leclerc deserves that and so much more. And you’re going to give it to him, no matter the cost.

Let them keep playing their games in the shadows. Little do they know, you’ve already checkmated them all.

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redjaybathood · 3 months

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You know, it's kinda funny to see the "Ukrainians are white so they are more privileged compared to Palestinians" posts right when there's another air attack alert in Kyiv. Will my low chances of being shot dead at traffic stop in USA help me survive a Kinzhal rocket dropped at my house?

"You're white so this is why the racist media supports you" - sure, if you disregard a campaign to smear Ukraine that's being going since 2013. Yeah, before the war started.

"You're white and that's why governments support you, so don't whine" ironic seeing yet another refusal to give us more weapons. More ironic is, our victory is crucial to the world's stability and food security - your, my friend, safety and ability to feed yourself. Even more ironic, that countries that oh support us so much, and who rely on us to keep them safe, are dragging their feet so we die, die, die... How white of us.

"You're white, you don't deserve to be treated with basic empathy. You don't deserve respect, your life is worth nothing" from one side, and from another, it's "You are subhuman, you don't deserve basic empathy or respect, your life is worthless..." from another.

Let me be clear. Whatever issues you have with white people, we didn't do shit to you. We were the colonized people, we were enslaved. We are experiencing genocide - yet again from the hands of the same empire. You don't have a higher moral ground here - you have a social media acceptable target. Our whiteness makes it okay to call us names, be happy when we die, manipulate data, pictures, to show how unworthy we are of the help we managed to get. Spread propaganda justifying our genocide. Spread narratives that become barriers to us receiving said help we are, in your merry-world, entitled to. Justify why you personally call for people to stop helping us.

We didn't do shit to you. You are doing it to us. You are punching down. And that's your privilege, being an arrogant and ignorant cunt somewhere a bomb is not going to drop on you, whatever your skin color is.

#to say nothing about our Ukrainians of color who are under the same danger se are #to say nothing about silent deportation Crimean Tatars experience #i am so sick of it

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ariyogames · 2 years

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Patreon has laid off their security team

I know this isn't an update on my interactive fiction game but I just wanted interactive fiction creators and other people who have Patreons to be aware about this issue.

Whitney Merrill on Twitter: "Whoa @Patreon laid off their ENTIRE security team. Wouldn’t trust my data there. Also there’s some amazing talent to scoop up." / Twitter

For creators with a Patreon, I would recommend using a password manager to generate a randomly generated password so that when Patreon has (another) security breach, your password will be unique.

For creators that are uncomfortable with using Patreon and do not want to lose their Patreon content, you can import your Patreon content to a WordPress website with a WordPress plugin that can be used with a WordPress membership plugin like Paid Memberships Pro that lets patrons subscribe to your content like on Patreon. However, please keep in mind that WordPress plugins are also very vulnerable to attack so it is very important that you update the plugins frequently if you choose to go this route.

Ko-fi is also a good alternative that I know a lot of interactive fiction creators use for their work. SubscribeStar is a good option for NSFW artists.

Hopefully there won't be any serious security breaches with Patreon but who knows what will happen...

UPDATE (10th September 2022 - 11:30AM BST):

Patreon has confirmed to reporters that they are hiring an external security team to handle Patreon's security.

Kevin Collier on Twitter: "Wild. Patreon confirms the layoffs in emailed statement to me, says it's ok, they're using third-party security. https://t.co/zV9zw9yOlh" / Twitter

What this means is that Patreon has decided to go for the cheaper option by outsourcing their security to a team abroad instead of spending more money and resources on an in-house security team. This is what is known to infosec/cyber security experts as MSSP/MSP.

However, a lot of cyber security professionals have criticised this decision by Patreon because historically, organisations that have outsourced their security to a team abroad have usually had a lot of security issues/security breaches later on down the line because they do not check/scan the security of the company as frequently as an in-house security team would.

This also conflicts with what a laid-off security employee has said about the situation where they disputed Patreon's claims of this decision not impacting their security by alleging that Patreon has cut down of its use of external security vendors in the past four months.

So what does this mean for Patreon's future and how am I affected?

What this means is that there are things going on behind the scenes at Patreon that we do not know about yet, all we know is that the leadership over there is making incredibly unwise business decisions by firing their entire internal security team and what this usually means is there will either be a huge security breach down the line or an announcement of a merger or acquisition.

Another potential risk is supporter deanonymisation, where attackers with malicious intent could blackmail subscribers that pledge to NSFW artists and kink content creators and threaten to reveal their Patreon pledges to an employer.

Your payment information (credit/debit card information) should be safe because Patreon do not process payment information themselves, they outsource it to Stripe and PayPal.

This blogpost by a cyber security professional is worth reading to know more on what to do about this situation.

Should I delete my Patreon account?

If you have no other option, then I would not delete my Patreon account especially if it is your only active source of income. What I would do is what I have listed above: by turning on two factor authentication through an app like Google Authenticator or Authy and changing your password to a randomly generated password so that you are not too much at risk when a security breach inevitably happens.

If you do have other options and are not as financially dependent on Patreon alone, then I would think about switching to other crowdfunding services like Ko-fi, SubscribeStar (I hear SubscribeStar is a good option for NSFW artists) and Comradery

I was originally going to create a Patreon for my interactive fiction/narrative game studio after I release the demo/first chapter of the interactive fiction game I'm currently working on (Mutants of Mayprice) but Patreon's lack of communication about this situation and their unwise decision of firing their entire internal security team (which wasn't many people to begin with, five people) does not leave me with a lot of confidence about the future of the platform.

#patreon #interactive fiction #crowdfunding

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year

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When Facebook came for your battery, feudal security failed

When George Hayward was working as a Facebook data-scientist, his bosses ordered him to run a “negative test,” updating Facebook Messenger to deliberately drain users’ batteries, in order to determine how power-hungry various parts of the apps were. Hayward refused, and Facebook fired him, and he sued:

https://nypost.com/2023/01/28/facebook-fires-worker-who-refused-to-do-negative-testing-awsuit/

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/2023/02/05/battery-vampire/#drained

Hayward balked because he knew that among the 1.3 billion people who use Messenger, some would be placed in harm’s way if Facebook deliberately drained their batteries — physically stranded, unable to communicate with loved ones experiencing emergencies, or locked out of their identification, payment method, and all the other functions filled by mobile phones.

As Hayward told Kathianne Boniello at the New York Post, “Any data scientist worth his or her salt will know, ‘Don’t hurt people…’ I refused to do this test. It turns out if you tell your boss, ‘No, that’s illegal,’ it doesn’t go over very well.”

Negative testing is standard practice at Facebook, and Hayward was given a document called “How to run thoughtful negative tests” regarding which he said, “I have never seen a more horrible document in my career.”

We don’t know much else, because Hayward’s employment contract included a non-negotiable binding arbitration waiver, which means that he surrendered his right to seek legal redress from his former employer. Instead, his claim will be heard by an arbitrator — that is, a fake corporate judge who is paid by Facebook to decide if Facebook was wrong. Even if he finds in Hayward’s favor — something that arbitrators do far less frequently than real judges do — the judgment, and all the information that led up to it, will be confidential, meaning we won’t get to find out more:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/12/hot-coffee/#mcgeico

One significant element of this story is that the malicious code was inserted into Facebook’s app. Apps, we’re told, are more secure than real software. Under the “curated computing” model, you forfeit your right to decide what programs run on your devices, and the manufacturer keeps you safe. But in practice, apps are just software, only worse:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/23/peek-a-boo/#attack-helicopter-parenting

Apps are part what Bruce Schneier calls “feudal security.” In this model, we defend ourselves against the bandits who roam the internet by moving into a warlord’s fortress. So long as we do what the warlord tells us to do, his hired mercenaries will keep us safe from the bandits:

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

But in practice, the mercenaries aren’t all that good at their jobs. They let all kinds of badware into the fortress, like the “pig butchering” apps that snuck into the two major mobile app stores:

https://arstechnica.com/information-technology/2023/02/pig-butchering-scam-apps-sneak-into-apples-app-store-and-google-play/

It’s not merely that the app stores’ masters make mistakes — it’s that when they screw up, we have no recourse. You can’t switch to an app store that pays closer attention, or that lets you install low-level software that monitors and overrides the apps you download.

Indeed, Apple’s Developer Agreement bans apps that violate other services’ terms of service, and they’ve blocked apps like OG App that block Facebook’s surveillance and other enshittification measures, siding with Facebook against Apple device owners who assert the right to control how they interact with the company:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/10/e2e/#the-censors-pen

When a company insists that you must be rendered helpless as a condition of protecting you, it sets itself up for ghastly failures. Apple’s decision to prevent every one of its Chinese users from overriding its decisions led inevitably and foreseeably to the Chinese government ordering Apple to spy on those users:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/11/foreseeable-consequences/#airdropped

Apple isn’t shy about thwarting Facebook’s business plans, but Apple uses that power selectively — they blocked Facebook from spying on Iphone users (yay!) and Apple covertly spied on its customers in exactly the same way as Facebook, for exactly the same purpose, and lied about it:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar

The ultimately, irresolvable problem of Feudal Security is that the warlord’s mercenaries will protect you against anyone — except the warlord who pays them. When Apple or Google or Facebook decides to attack its users, the company’s security experts will bend their efforts to preventing those users from defending themselves, turning the fortress into a prison:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/20/benevolent-dictators/#felony-contempt-of-business-model

Feudal security leaves us at the mercy of giant corporations — fallible and just as vulnerable to temptation as any of us. Both binding arbitration and feudal security assume that the benevolent dictator will always be benevolent, and never make a mistake. Time and again, these assumptions are proven to be nonsense.

Image: Anthony Quintano (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Mark_Zuckerberg_F8_2018_Keynote_%2841118890174%29.jpg

CC BY 2.0: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en

[Image ID: A painting depicting the Roman sacking of Jerusalem. The Roman leader's head has been replaced with Mark Zuckerberg's head. The wall has Apple's 'Think Different' wordmark and an Ios 'low battery' icon.]

Next week (Feb 8-17), I'll be in Australia, touring my book *Chokepoint Capitalism* with my co-author, Rebecca Giblin. We'll be in Brisbane on Feb 8, and then we're doing a remote event for NZ on Feb 9. Next is Melbourne, Sydney and Canberra. I hope to see you!

https://chokepointcapitalism.com/

#pluralistic #manorial security #feudal security #apple #mobile #apps #security through obscurity #binding arbitration #arbitration waivers #transparency #danegeld #surveillance lag

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river-taxbird · 3 months

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Have YOU got an old Windows PC Microsoft has told you can't run Windows 11? It's time to give it a new life!

How to install Windows 11 on unsupported PC Hardware using Rufus. You can also disable some other Windows 11 bullshit like data harvesting and needing a Microsoft account.

It has been in the news a lot lately that Windows 11 isn't allowed to be installed on PCs without certain requirements, including the TPM 2.0, a chip that was only included in PCs made in 2018 or later. This means that once Windows 10 stops receiving security updates, those PCs will not be able to (officially) run a safe, updated version of Windows anymore. This has led to an estimated 240 million PCs bound for the landfill. Thanks Microsoft! I get you don't want to be seen as the insecure one, but creating this much waste can't be the solution.

(I know nerds, Linux is a thing. I love you but we are not having that conversation. If you want to use Linux on an old PC you are already doing it and you don't need to tell me about it. People need Windows for all sorts of reasons that Linux won't cut.)

So lately I have been helping some under privileged teens get set up with PCs. Their school was giving away their old lab computers, and these kids would usually have no chance to afford even a basic computer. They had their hard drives pulled so I have been setting them up with SSDs, but the question was, what to do about the operating system? So I looked into it and I found out there IS actually a way to bypass Microsoft's system requirement and put Windows 11 on PCs as old as 2010.

You will need: Rufus: An open source ISO burning tool.

A Windows 11 ISO: Available from Microsoft.

A USB Flash Drive, at least 16GB.

A working PC to make the ISO, and a PC from 2018 or older you want to install Windows 11 on.

Here is the guide I used, but I will put it in my own words as well.

Download your Windows 11 ISO, and plug in your USB drive. It will be erased, so don't have anything valuable on it. Run Rufus, select your USB drive in the Device window, and select your Windows 11 ISO with the Select button. (There is supposed to be a feature in Rufus to download your ISO but I couldn't get it to work.?

Choose standard windows installation, and follow the screenshot for your settings. Once you are done that, press Start, and then the magic happens. Another window pops up allowing you to remove the system requirements, the need for a microsoft account, and turn off data collecting. Just click the options you want, and press ok to write your iso to a drive.

From there you just need to use the USB drive to install windows. I won't go into details here, but here are some resources if you don't know how to do it.

Boot your PC from a USB Drive

Install Windows 11 from USB Drive

If you had a licensed copy of Windows 10, Windows 11 will already be licensed. If you don't, then perhaps you can use some kind of... Activation Scripts for Microsoft software, that will allow you to activate them. Of course I cannot link such tools here. So there you go, now you can save a PC made from before 2018 from the landfill, and maybe give it to a deserving teen in the process. The more we can extend the lives of technology and keep it out of the trash, the better.

Additional note: This removes the requirement for having 4GB Minimum of RAM, but I think that requirement should honestly be higher. Windows 11 will be unusable slow on any system with below 8GB of RAM. 8GB is the minimum I think you should have before trying this but it still really not enough for modern use outside of light web and office work. I wouldn't recommend trying this on anything with 4GB or less. I am honestly shocked they are still selling brand new Windows 11 PCs with 4GB of ram. If you're not sure how much RAM you have, you can find out in the performance tab of Task Manager in Windows, if you click the More Details icon on the bottom right. If you don't have enough, RAM for old systems is super cheap and widely available so it would definitely be worth upgrading if you have a ram starved machine you'd like to give a new life.

#Windows #Windows 11 #tech #tech advice #pc #TPM 2.0 #rufus #open source #open source software #technology #tech tips

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qweerhet · 2 years

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dear 18+ discord server owners:

this:

is how you avoid legal liability for anyone lying about their age to access 18+ content within your server. if your channels (and server, if you’re on iOS) are properly marked as 18+, you do not have further legal liability for anyone knowingly lying to gain access to the content in your server.

furthermore, asking for censored versions of someone’s legal documents is incredibly unsafe.

no-one should ever send photos of their legal documents to anyone who has not verified they have received the proper certification and training to handle legal documents, and no-one should ever send those photos over an unverified channel (i.e. discord DMs, twitter DMs, a random person’s texting number).

this applies to censored versions of your legal documents.

there are certain paid courses you can take to prove you are capable of handling sensitive information (a broad classification of personal information that includes photos of legal documents). any company that requires you to upload sensitive information to access their services has internal training policies for any employees handling said information (often making use of those paid courses), and uses specific programs to handle said information without storing it on servers and to limit the possibility of said information being leaked or breached in some way.

if an organization (including an informal one like a discord server) does not have those training programs and does not use those programs to handle your data, they are dangerous and you should not give them your information. if your organization (including an informal one like a discord server) is asking for that sensitive information without staff going through this training and using certified and safe methods of collecting this information, you are creating a dangerous environment. it doesn’t matter how much you trust your mods; legal documentation is a big fucking deal and handling it requires a massive dedication to data security.

if you are really, sincerely worried about facing legal consequences for someone lying about their age via discord’s built-in age verification, to the point that you feel the only way to avoid legal liability is to handle photos of your members’ legal documents, you need to commit to the highest level of data security to run that server.

reblogs are appreciated because honestly the fact that i keep seeing people acting like this is a normal or OK thing to request is insane.

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pandoraslxna · 10 months

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human!reader taking nude and explicit photographs of herself to give to the colonel 😩

Sweet like cherry – Chapter 1

Miles Quaritch x female human reader

Words: 3.1k

Summary: Miles has a secret admirer and apparently, she has a thing for photography.

Warnings: explicit smut, (mutual) masturbation (lots of it), voyeurism, degradation kink, body worship, misogyny / bullying if you squint, obsession, corruption kink, size & age difference

Notes: apologies for the header photo, i promise there aren’t any physical descriptions of the reader in my fics (such as skin color, hair, etc).

Cherry. A symbol of both, purity and innocence.

Technology had never been Quaritch’s forte. It wasn't even his strongest branch of knowledge; a strange piece of information that always came as a surprise to anyone who knew him, even to himself. He was usually too proud to admit this flaw of his to others. But he excelled in other things instead. Leading, for example. Leading troupes, soldiers, recoms. Keeping them safe.

On a typical day, the head of security ensures that security measures are properly implemented, educates and trains soldiers and develops security processes to reduce risk and limit liability for the RDA. Oh, and guns. Yeah, guns he knew how to handle.

And this was something that he took great pride in.

Miles knew that some people use technology to create all kinds of art, as useless as that may seem to him. They draw, they create, they write, whatever, you name it. Sometimes, people use technology to document things. They videotape or photograph stuff. All that unnecessary shit that he pushes into Wainfleets area of responsibility, because hell, he couldn’t even open a stupid document on one of those data pads everyone seemed to carry around these days.

Which is why this tiny, square piece of paper, right there on the floor of his living quarters, spiked his interest so much.

A polaroid.

Quaritch knew polaroids. He knew how to use a polaroid camera too, surprisingly. Learned it back on earth when he was young, when technology was as simple as pressing a button which resolved an instant result. A photo, in that case. They often came out looking a little blurry or foggy, he admits that was probably due to the outdated technology. Nothing compared to the quality that cameras could capture today. But that’s what gave them their charm, right?

He doesn’t remember them being this small, though, but that’s probably because the last time he held one of these was when he was a kid. And when he wasn’t a little over nine feet tall and blue.

Faintly, Quaritch wonders how it even ended up here. He wasn’t really the type to carry memories with him, photographs of all things. And a polaroid? Who even brings a polaroid camera all the way from earth to pandora? As far as he could remember his first time coming to this hell hole, the list of belongings he was allowed to carry with him was fairly short, limited to the necessities only.

Instead of breaking his head over an answer to where it may came from, the Colonel chose to continue observing this strange… let’s call it gift, his eyes narrowing and squinting throughout his thorough investigation.

But when he finally turns the polaroid, his eyes widen in surprise.

There‘s nothing blurry or messy or foggy about the picture, even under the dim light of the lamp that lit his dark bedroom. It was crystal clear.

Your tattoo is the first thing Miles sees of you. Thin, red lines adorn the flawless skin right on your hip, resulting in a cherry as a whole. Cherries. Miles loved them. Small, soft round, almost heart shaped and of bright red color. And so, so sweet.

He’s never been a big fan of lingerie, truth be told, but the way those panties matched the color of your tattoo, Quaritch couldn’t deny that this was one hell of a sight. You wore a set of thigh-high stockings, same color of course, to make the match perfect.

Too bad the photo’s frame cuts off right where your head would be, so he could only wonder if whoever the woman on this picture was, she was wearing the same color of lipstick too.

A nice little gift, he thought, not thinking much of it as he laid the polaroid into his nightstand drawer.

It doesn’t take more than a couple of days for him to find a new set of polaroids, slipped under the crack of his door while he was on a mission. With a huff, Miles set his gear down to pick them up from the floor. He might not have realized back then, but he was actually pleased to find not just one, but three polaroids this time.

Surprisingly, there was something written on them this time. A fine line of red ink, reminds him of your tattoo. Handwritten in cursive, with a small heart at the end of the sentence, like a love letter directed to him, stood, "to Colonel Miles Quaritch."

As if someone was trying to make it clear that those were meant for him. That the last time wasn’t just an accident or made by a perverted voyeur that gets off from sliding naughty little photos of herself under random peoples doors. No, they were made entirely for him.

If the first one he received was already a sight to see, the ones he was holding in his hands right now were straight up mouth watering.

Quaritch couldn’t help it.

He was still a man after all and it’s been one hell of a long time since he had last touched a woman. A life time, you could say. So even though his own bodies reaction to stirring alive at the sight of your photos took him by surprise, it wasn’t actually that surprising after all. Because how could he not grow hard at the sight of that faceless woman with the cherry tattoo, sprawled out on her bed, messy satin sheets underneath her picture perfect body, legs spread wide and angled so he could get a good view of her glistening folds.

The first polaroid he had received was nothing more than a little tease, meant to get him intrigued, maybe even rile him up and make him want to longe for more. But these, these photos were straight up pornographic.

The second one is enough to make Miles sit down on his bed and rearrange his pants, as they had suddenly grown suffocatingly tight around his crotch. In that one, you were bend over what looked like the edge of your bed, spine arched just the way he liked and with your thighs spread to make room for your hand that had two delicate fingers buried to the knuckle inside of you.

"Fuck…", Miles chuckled lowly. What a pretty pussy, he thought, as he started to palm his cock through his cargos.

He held the polaroid just a little closer to his face to catch all the details. How your walls seemed to clamp down on your fingers, spread wide to swallow them whole. God, what he would give to hold your legs open and watch your tight pussy struggle to take him down to the base.

He groaned at the thought, as his hands found the waistband of his boxer briefs, pulling them down enough to free his hard cock. Throbbing painfully in his palm, he begins to move his hand up and down, stroking lazily as his eyes scanned over the polaroid like he was studying a fine piece of art.

Miles imagined how your voice would sound like. How cries would tumble from your lips, his name like a mantra as he fucked you until your entire body would tremble, unable to bear how good he was making you feel. The loose fist he’d made around his cock grew tighter, as his steady pace became a touch less steady, his body growing desperate for more friction than his lazy drag had allowed.

Miles stroked over his shaft, squeezing the blue tip of his cock just right, forcing the very first droplets of pre-cum to form and spill over his knuckles.

His eyes traveled over to the next photo, the same lithe body, biting his lower lip as his gaze settled on the way you were squeezing your soft breasts together for the shot, fingers teasing your perky nipples. A sight that would only be better if there was a cock, his cock, in between them.

While the pre-cum that leaked from his tip did serve to smooth the dry tug, it wasn’t enough to keep up with his pace, so he spat into his hand, the glide easier now, and the filthy sounds made his head spin. He could almost feel your pussy clamping down, tight and hot, around him. If he closed his eyes, it was like you were really here.

But Quaritch rather kept them open, half lidded at least, just to keep staring at those filthy little pictures, like a pathetic sailor looking at pinup posters taped on his bunk bed.

Soon, he was actually fucking into his hand, faster now, as he imagined exactly how you would take him. Perhaps you’d look best, sitting prettily on his lap. Riding him, rolling your soft hips while he gripped your ass hard enough to leave bruises, lifting you up only to slam you down on his cock. Wrenching cries from those spit-glossed lips, skin shiny with sweat and a lustful gaze through thick lashes.

Spurting his thick, warm cum into his fist definitely didn’t feel as good as pumping you full with it would, he determined that day.

Cherry, Miles named the mysterious woman of his late fantasies. Because no matter the pose, you always managed to leave your face out of your photos. Instead, you sneaked your fruity little tattoo on every single one of your shots. Like a trademark, as if he could somehow recognize you like this.

Ever since then, the days Miles received cherry's little gifts had piled up quite a bit. So much so, that the Colonel couldn’t even deny anymore, that he even grew a tad excited about coming back home from his missions just to find a new set of naughty little polaroids on the floor right behind the door.

And even when he wasn’t specifically looking at your photos, he sometimes caught himself thinking about you. With so much shit going on in his life, it was nice to have a little something to let his mind drift off to.

His sweet little cherry, for example.

Miles washes himself mechanically. Shampoo, rinse. Conditioner, soap, lathered across his blue skin. Sliding over his board chest, balancing on the cliffs of his hips, dripping down to where his cock hangs hot and heavy, tingling under the pelting water as if they were an angel's kisses. Pecking, spreading on his skin. Drowning him in drowsy heat as he slips rough fingers through his short hair.

He washes away all the grime, sweat and dirt that had clung to his body after spending most of his day in the sultry heat of pandoras jungle. Looking down at his palms, as he rinses them under the spray of hot water, he thinks about your latest polaroid, from two days ago. It was a shot of you, standing in the shower, too.

The camera was set somewhere behind you. Both of your hands against the tiled walls, you stood entirely on your tip toes, back arched and chest pushed against the wall to give him a good view of your backside. You really had a delicious looking, peachy butt. Especially delicious, if said butt was covered in soap.

Placing a hand against the wall to steady himself, Miles other hand traveled down over his toned stomach, until he reached his cock, that was now standing proud and tall, his tip an angry color of purple, as pre-cum already oozed from its slit.

There used to be times when it was a lot harder to rile him up like that, he thought with a scoff. You made him feel like he was a teenager once again. Back in his old room, on his parents farm, where he had just discovered his old man's playboy magazine. When his body was pumped full and overflowing of hormones and testosterone that desperately searched for a way out. Or when he was in college, bending over every pretty girl that willingly got into his old mustang and spread her legs for him in the backseat.

Miles thought he’d grown up since then. That he had better impulse control now. Had his fair share of women so that things like seeing one naked wouldn’t immediately get him this hard. Hell, he was a completely different man now, he has responsibilities, a team to lead, a whole damn planet to colonize.

But as he furiously pumped his cock, lubed with pre-cum and body wash, he thought that maybe he was just acting like some horny teenager because it’s been an awful while since he had last buried his cock into a wet little hole. Or maybe it’s something about those damn Na‘vi and their fucked up dna that was used to clone him. Maybe they’re so hormone driven and that’s why he has those borderline animalistic urges to fuck that faceless woman into the mattress of his bed, any bed.

Or maybe it’s just because of you. Because cherry looks just so perfectly edible, so bite sized and delicious. A pretty little thing made for him. Needy enough to send him those downright pornographic polaroids, because you were thinking about him, thinking about him stuffing his cock so deep into your pussy that you could taste him on your tongue.

Miles exhaled a shaky breath, hips stuttering to fuck into his fist at a faster pace as he continued to recreate the last photo he had seen of you in front of his minds eye.

The second polaroid of your previous set showed you in a squatting position, legs spread wide, while the water of the shower was running down over your curves, over your tattoo and pubic bone to dribble onto the white-tiled bathroom floor. Quaritch swallowed thickly, tongue lapping over his pointy canine as he imagined to dive head first between your thighs to get a good taste of you. Fuck, he bets you would taste so damn delicious, truly living up to your little nickname.

In this shot, your own hand was wrapped around your throat, almost as if you were taunting him.

I wish that was your hand instead.

"Jesus, cherry", Miles groaned in a hushed whisper, "Bet you’d love my hand around your throat. Filthy little slut."

His eyes squeezed shut even tighter as he imagined you in this exact position, squatting in front of him in the shower, your hands on his thighs as he fucked your throat, until your voice was raw and hoarse.

Unfortunately, in this moment there was no one to swallow his thick load of cum, but the tiled wall of his shower and the drain after the water had washed it down.

In his youth, and even sometimes in his years as an adult, the morning after was often filled with an emotion that his current self didn’t even possess anymore. Shame, sometimes even guilt. He took what he desired, made a pretty girl see stars and then ditched before the first ray of sun could even shine through the ugly smog that was once a white cloud in the sky –before the humans fucked up.

But ever since his sweet Cherry had bought him her little gifts and once in a while gave Quaritch a way to release all of his pent of frustration, he was in a surprisingly good mood. Not that good, of course, because Quaritch wouldn’t be Quaritch if he was running around like a brainless bimbo full of sunshine and butterflies. But good enough that he didn’t immediately growled something along the lines of "watch where the fuck you’re going" or something like that, when a small body bumped into him in the hallway.

Yesterday nights shower activities left him in a good enough mood, that all he did was scrunch his nose and scoff at the pathetic sight in front of him.

White lab coat, black pencil skirt, blouse and clipboard in a tight death grip, clasped over her chest like she thought he would snatch it from her, stood one of those scientists that were running around all over bridgehead like little ants.

Looking all the way down at you, Miles realized that you must’ve dropped a few of your books and other paperwork when you accidentally ran into him, as they were scattered across the floor all around you.

There was a long moment of painful silence, as you stared up at him with wide eyes.

Eyes, that were filled with something that looked like panic to him, like a deer caught in headlights and you blushed, blushed so much that your whole face turned red. Oh god, Quaritch thinks to himself, she’s one of those kind of lab coats. Those nerds that never see the sunlight because they’re always cramped into their little labs, studying whatever fucking plants and stuff they could get their hands on, like it’s their only purpose in life. One of those nerds that he made fun of when he was still in college, virgins he’d call them, because that’s what they were. So smart, yet too stupid to socialize and actually get their hands on another human.

You, too, looked like a virgin to him. Albeit a little too pretty to be compared to the other scientist freaks he had crossed ways with so far. Less like a sun starved vampire, with dark circles under their eyes and greasy hair that made him wonder if they even had showers down at the labs. No, you looked more like those kind of girls you’d see in those weird roleplay porn movies, dressed down to make them look nerdier, as if they were someone completely different outside of work, wearing those fake glasses that weren’t actually needed for anything other than the sheer purpose of covering them in cu—

"Oh god, I’m s-so sorry, Sir!" You finally snatched out of your trance when he crooked a brow at you, hastily hurrying to fall to your knees and collect the papers that were littered across the floor like confetti.

With an amused huff, Miles was about to turn on his heels and continue his way to meet General Ardmore at the corporate hq, when his gaze flicks to a tiny, square piece of paper on the floor. The sheer horror on your face, when he crouched down to pick it up, was actually quiet an amusing sight to him.

"Well, well. Look what we have here." Quaritch chuckles as he flips the paper over, that in fact turned out to be a polaroid, just as he assumed. It reveals the picture perfect shot of a body, with a small tattoo he’s grown very familiar with.

"If that ain’t my sweet little cherry…"

#colonel miles quaritch #avatar miles quaritch #miles quaritch x reader #miles quaritch x reader smut #miles quaritch #colonel quaritch #colonel quaritch x reader smut #avatar quaritch #atwow quaritch #recom quaritch #quaritch x reader #james cameron avatar #Avatar #Avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #recom miles quaritch

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catgirl-catboy · 1 year

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Antis talk about groomers a lot (as they should! Online grooming is a serious issue.)

But I rarely see young antis practicing internet safety that helps them avoid groomers. Internet security is my livelihood, so it really worries me.

Here are some tips to avoid groomers on the internet.

First off "Groomers DNI" or "Adults DNI" doesn't help. You are welcome to keep it in your DNI if you want, but the sort of people that respect that DNI are the sort of people that likely don't pose a threat to you anyway.

Never say your age. I'm serious. "Teenager" is as specific as you can get. "But then, how do you make friends your own age online?" you start talking to people, and you get an estimate about their age.

Never put your face online either. Not only can groomers and stalkers use it, your future boss might find it and link you back to this social media account.

Be vague about your location. If I know your timezone, and you tell me about the weather, I have a pretty good idea of where you live. Hell, actively lie about your timezone/location.

This is a helpful skill to learn, because some (not all, but enough that you need to be careful) of the people that have "15 y/o, above 18 DNI" are actually grown ass adults that will eventually coerce you into doing shit you aren't comfortable with.

If a place happens to be mostly teens, you are a-okay. If a place explicitly bans adults, run.

If someone is giving you a bad vibe for any reason, block them. "But give people the benefit of the doubt!" No. Not on the internet. I give a bad vibe? Prepare the block. Your intuition is a huge tool to keep you safe, don't doubt it.

Don't post pictures you took online. It isn't the content of the photo you should worry about, it's the data that comes with it. Most photos have locations attached.

Do mention parents/supportive adults in your life that care about you. If none exist, make some up. If it seems like you talk about your internet friends, you don't look like an easy target.

Say no to your internet friends on occasion. Watch their reactions. If someone begins to act controlling, thats a red flag.

#internet safety #internet security #groomers #grooming #privacy #antis

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sprout-fics · 10 months

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Since you've talked about AI scraping Ao3 for works to improve its own writing... Google Documents and Microsoft Word use AI scrappers as well, which cannot be turned off.

As a former Google Docs truther... I fucking hate this news, but thought I'd share for people to see!

So, I did a little digging on this. Here is an article written by a fellow author that talks about how Google has announced they use public data to train AI models. However, the key word here is public. Google docs belong to the realm of privacy. However, there could be disclaimers buried in the terms and conditions that nobody reads that detail that google is in fact using things from Google docs. Google has been known for some shady business practices when it comes to algorithms and privacy, so it would not surprise me if this was the case. However, at the moment Google has yet to announce they are scraping people’s private docs for AI.

I couldn’t find many sources that state Microsoft is explicitly scraping people’s data from the cloud/OneDrive or online Microsoft suite. However, what I did find was a thousand and one articles explaining for individuals to purposefully scrape data from Word docs. So theoretically, an individual could copy paste your work into a word doc and then use tools to extract data from that. Which is the same as scraping data from Ao3 or Tumblr. The difference is (from what I can tell) that these are individual programmers and not mass generated AI bots.

One thing I found in the first article is mention of NextCloud, which is essentially a private server safe from AI scraping. It’s a program similar to Microsoft Office, just more secure and safer from AI data scraping. Keep in mind I have not used this program, so I cannot guarantee the authenticity or operationalization of this, but it might be something to look into.

So, here’s the thing: At this point in the game, it’s pretty much a guarantee that we all will face some sort of AI scraping of works in the near and imminent future. As these tools rapidly evolve, the tools to combat stealing of works struggle to keep up. There are steps we all can take, we can restrict works on Ao3 to users only, we can stop posting on Tumblr, but in the end, there are ways to navigate around this if people are hellbent on stealing your works. It is endlessly frustrating, and it seriously makes me re-consider the benefits of sharing content online, knowing my works can feed programs that are designed to eliminate the need for my creativity.

#ai is theft #ai scraping #writers on tumblr #writeblr #ao3

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faef43 · 1 year

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PLS LOOK THE REBLOGGED POST I MADE OF THIS POST TO CONTINUE MY TIPS

HERE ARE SOME TIPS PLUS STORES TO AVOID

ALWAYS ADDING MORE SO CHECK BACK

I’ve been lifting for awhile and have collected some good tips and tricks on how to not get caught or be put in a system

-CAMERAS/MAIN TIPS-

I mainly lift small things like makeup, jewelry, small skincare, rings, pins, if it’s a good day maybe small lotions, but lifting clothes tips are coming soon!! (fixing spelling/grammar errors <3)

First of all, wear a mask and if you can style your hair in a way you usually don’t or use a beanie, bucket hat, baseball cap, never a sun hat way too suspicious. Ex. for hair: braids, space buns, slicked back, etc. I wouldn’t suggest lifting if you have brightly colored hair unless you want to go as far as to wear a realistic enough looking natural wig. Never wear sunglasses with a mask or a hat on, very suspicious, they will catch on. While finding blind spots never just turn around to face the wall and start stuffing your pockets and bag(s), instead stand at a 3/4 angle and be slick, I suggest lifting things while walking through a crowed isle, section, or doing it while walking, this one usually works if you have something small you can make it look like you’re adjusting your sleeves. ALWAYS GRAB 2 OF THE ITEM U WANT 2 LIFT, make the second one less apparent you have it, but if you take two and always keep one apparently in your hand, the cameras will be fooled. You have to have some sort of fingernails to scratch off price tags/barcodes/stickers, trust me when lifting you don’t want those on there. Take them off, rip them up and stuff it in your pocket or stuff somewhere non apparent, never throw them on the ground, super obvious. Don’t wear all baggy clothing, it’s really suspicious, always do the half half trick, half of your outfit baggy, half tight. Ex. Really tight shirt, hella baggy pants, really baggy hoodie, tight ass jeans or leggings. That way they won’t suspect you. If doing the baggy hoodie, always wear a secure sports bra underneath if u wear bras, great for slipping stuff into when pretending to adjust your bra, make sure your double of the product you want to lift is visible. By all means do not steal from target, they have high trained LP, workers that dress up as normal shoppers that they send to areas where they seek suspicion to spy on you, they keep you in a data base and share info/pics of you with other targets, cameras are nearly always monitored, store security is present, they let you walk out with things but eventually will confront you. The decision to call the police has already been made, target is a scary place, if you are gonna lift do only a 3-6 dollar thing, only once. Their employees count clothes for dressing rooms often times, pretty scary place stay safe. Some cameras are smoke detectors/speakers,boxes on the ceiling ect. Usually they’ll have some sort of light that’s always on, they look a little chunky or too far away from the ceiling. Claire’s has a ton of these so be carful, but their earrings don’t have any censors on them so they’re a great store for beginners. Interact with this post and I’ll add more too this blog♡ . -CLOTHING TIPS- If a clothing store does not have fitting rooms, don’t even try, they’ll immediately catch on+security cameras are your number one snitch. You’re gonna want to pay attention to if store employees suspect you. Ex. Fixing up areas that you’re at or around u, constant asking if you’re finding everything ok, maybe they’ll offer a store basket or bag, asking if you need anything in specific, any constant attention really. If they are leave the store, come back like a week later and try again. Your gonna wanna bring a hook with you to remove ink tags/clothing alarms while in fitting room, keep it down and try to pick a fitting room away from others to avoid suspicion. Some stores have employees stand in empty stalls next to you and listen so be aware and careful. If there are price tags try stuffing them behind the mirror or on in the landings on the floor, they’re sometimes rubber, don’t leave shit on the floor, if they already suspect u, they’ll check the fitting room when you come out. As for the alarms/ink tags, put them in ur pocket and discreetly shove them in another piece of clothing, remember to ALWAYS CHECK POCKETS ON CLOTHING.im abt to max out, look at repost of this from me 4more

ALWAYS CHECK POCKETS/COMPARTMENTS ON CLOTHING. Other lifters could have stuffed clothing alarms or price tags in there, be safe and check before trying to lift. No as where to conceal these clothing items, if you have the baggy hoody, (I suggest wearing a baggy shirt underneath too, always wear that sports bra if u wear bras{binders can also work it’s just hella uncomfy I’ve tried it})put 1-3 tops on under ur baggy T then put ur hoodie back on. Make sure they don’t count items b4 going into changing rooms. If they do, try taking a hoodie on some sort of hanger, taking it off the hanger, putting 1-2 shirts on the hanger, then put the hoodie/zip up back on. Great for lifting, if they confront you say you didn’t know and you were just tossing things in the cart, get out of there fast afterwards. It’s suspicious if you come in with a ton of clothes then don’t buy anything, sometimes you gotta buy some to win some. (Ex. I’m wearing 3 shirts under my og shirt which would add up to about 35 bucks, I buy a cheap tank top for 15, they don’t suspect me and I get freebies)

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phantoids · 2 years

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Okay fuck it I'm making this post.

So, we all know the dsmp fandom, especially on twitter, has a bit of a problem with leaktwt and often lots of controversy springing from stuff obtained by kiwifarms. I'd like to talk about this, because it's been pissing me off for months and it's getting ridiculous.

Please stop trusting information like this, or at the very least be cautious with how you interact with it, take it with a large grain of salt or maybe even a handful, don't take it at fucking face value and consider to yourself: why did they obtain this information and how did they obtain it.

Especially the how, because I've noticed the amount of illegally obtained data, from information unobtainable without some form of hacking to a lot of cases of spear phishing. Spear phishing, for those who don't know, is a targeted form of phishing against a specific person; phishing is often described as trying to obtain personal or sensitive information, and here the definition is applicable as digging through years worth of information otherwise inaccessible to the average user without purposefully searching everywhere for it, specifically information from or about a specific person.

This happens a lot, we see many cases, from the people who keep doxxing ccs, to the more recent things with certain information from Steam about Wilbur being made public despite the fact it's inaccessible without some sort of digging or manipulation, and now with (I believe, idk i've not really been looking at it for obvious reasons) the whole Tubbo thing and I believe that was leaked private messages of a friend, I could be wrong there. Either way, there's been so many cases of doxxing, leaked private messages, information inaccessible on the front end of things and it's getting to a genuinely worrying point.

And this isn't because I care about content creators, but I do care about upholding data privacy. Yes, even if they've said shit in the past, please don't go digging and digging because that does fall into spear phishing, and at the end of the day it is very dubiously legal at best. This is something we're taught about in fucking cyber security courses, for even further perspective on how bad it is. Not to mention, often this information is dug up by infamous leaktwt or kiwifarms, which are pretty known for bad faith digging up of shit.

These people dig it up for clout, they dig it up for attention, they do not care who gets fucking hurt and often bringing up old shit is going to harm more people than it fucking helps. It's even worse when you try to hold someone accountable for something someone else did, especially years in the past like it's their fault.

Just, please, stop supporting this, stop circulating this shit like morning gossip, because you're not only hurting people for no good reason, it's also often spreading illegally obtained information from people who commit cybercrimes on the regular. It breaks data protection laws, it breaks someone's fucking privacy.

Content creators are people. Respect their privacy, for fuck's sake, and stop egging on leaktwt/kiwifarms, because at the end of the day you're just telling them it's perfectly fine.

And their campaign of digging things up and harming people in bad faith doesn't end at your favourite cis white boy. They will harm minorities, and they already do, just for clout and fun. Stop it while you can before it gets out of hand, and make it clear they aren't welcome, because the fandom doesn't make it clear enough.

This isn't, of course, to say you cannot be critical of information found about ccs, but please don't allow a side effect to be encouraging or inadvertently making leaktwt/kiwifarms believe it's safe for them here, and that they are supported. Be critical when your fav is found to have said awful shit in the past, give them time to clarify, but also just... be a little critical about how accurate that info is, and who is supplying it. If you find yourself thinking 'now is this really legitimately obtained?' then maybe don't spread it, because it could be fake but a lot of the time it's already been addressed and is simply spread in bad faith.

And sure, they're exposing shitty stuff right now, but what happens when they doxx someone's address for fun?

Data privacy is important, it affects everyone, and even the worst people deserve to keep it. Sure, law enforcement and courts might be able to obtain this stuff, but you're not law enforcement nor a court and you're not entitled to personal data whenever.

#void echos #discourse #this just. has to be said I think. i'm sick of seeing this shit #not to mention how dehumanised ccs are often but that's a whole other thing #respect data privacy or die by my fucking hands for fuck's sake.#yes it's not normal or fucking good to dig up old discord messages and dear god is it not normally obtained to 'find' private messages #those are illegally obtained dear god have some critical thinking about this shit.#this took a lot of courage to post tbh hopefully i don't get clowned on for respecting the fucking law and being a cybersecurity shill.

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enigma2meagain · 1 year

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RESTRICT Act: The TikTok Ban is a Smokescreen for PATRIOT ACT 2.0. EDIT: KOSA and EARN IT Act are also back.

EDIT: So now we not only have RESTRICT to worry about, but we also have the EARN IT Act and the Kids Online Safety Act to deal with.

See here for my previous post on it. Fuck Blumenthal and Blackburn for trying to bring back two pro-censorship bills on top of the RESTRICT Act.

And Evan provides some insight on it.

EDIT: SO it turns out that Meta IS partly behind this, but it’s also due to Silicon Valley AND the government wanting more power and control. More information in the links provided below.

EDIT: List of Sponsors has been removed for easier reading. You can still find the list in the Link to the bill itself.

EDIT: Meta-related information apparently incorrect. Updated for accuracy.

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Here is a link to the bill:

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This RESTRICT Act is EXTREMELY authoritarian and violating privacy and the 1st Amendment. It’s being disguised as being about banning TikTok, but it’s VASTLY overreaching and basically gives far too much power to the government.

How bad is this bill? Bad enough that pretty much every side of the political spectrum opposes this bill once they took a closer look at it beyond the TikTok smokescreen.

The following points were articulated succinctly by tumblr user @logan-galbraith (used with permission):

This act, while saying it's to insure American's personal information will be safe from foreign powers, it goes much deeper than that.

It will give the United States Government the power to remove and ban ANY online service they deem "a security risk" while making it so they do not need just cause and do not need to clarify or release a public statement.

It allows them the power to gather American's data without our knowledge or consent and even force us to submit documentation for anything they wish.

It protects the government from scrutiny on this, and if you try to speak about it and inform people on what it ACTUALLY allows, they can claim it to be false information and charge you.

It prevents you from using a VPN as it's seen as a breach of information security, thus they can charge you. (Uncertain on accuracy. Crossed out until more concrete information is revealed)

Failure to abide by these "guidelines" can lead to a fine up to ONE MILLION DOLLARS and/or 20 YEARS in prison.

And above all it does NOTHING to prevent AMERICAN companies from collecting and selling your data.

It doesn't matter what political party you're on, because BOTH parties in office want this. This is not about sides. This is about the ENTIRE government stripping our rights away so they can keep lining their own pockets.

And that’s what the TikTok ban really is; a smokescreen for Congress to grab more power. This is the PATRIOT ACT VERSION 2. This has BIPARTISAN support and approval from the Biden Administration.

The scary part is that this bill is being approved under THIS administration...and it’s STILL incredibly bad.

What would end up happening if an openly fascist leader were brought into power? All of sudden, ANYONE and ANYTHING could become a target or considered an adversary under the flimsiest of pretenses.

What should YOU do?

Well, the same thing as past horribly invasive bills like EARN IT and KOSA; we make a LOT of noise, and get the word out.

While there has been increasing amounts of negative press and opposition on this bill, it’s hard to tell how much this has really slowed thing down. As such, getting the word out on how bad this bill is CRUCIAL. Make it EXTREMELY CLEAR that the TikTok ban is just a smokescreen, and that this is nakedly authoritarian and dangerously unconstitutional.

And PLEASE call your Senators.

Find your 2 senators numbers here.

Fax them, email them.

Tell them they MUST oppose this bill. Calmly make it clear to them that if they support this bill, then you will vote for someone else who doesn’t go along with this blatant act of authoritarian intent. CONTACT any major human rights and cybersecurity related organizations and let them know about this bill. Get this out to any local news groups that you can.

There’s some petitions by groups like ACLU: https://go.peoplepower.org/letter/tiktok-ban

They are betting on people being blissfully ignorant of this, that it’s “Just about a Silly App”, so they will not expect you to contact them about this. They are trying to weasel this through in order to give themselves more power, and we won’t be able to do anything about it without the risk of being jailed or censored.

Here’s a part of a rough script if you need one. Add in more based on what is relevant:

"Just to make you aware I do not support the TikTok ban and I do not support the Restrict Act. If this bill is passed I will not support any official who supports that bill. Instead, I will be spending all my time and energy supporting your opponents in the primaries."

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A list of links/citations:

Truthout Article 4/02/2023: Restrict Act Critics Call the Far-Reaching “TikTok Ban” Bill a “Patriot Act 2.0”

Dailydot Article 3/10/2023: “The RESTRICT Act isn’t about banning TikTok—it’s designed to force a sale”

Lawfareblog.com 3/23/2023: “Two New Bills on TikTok and Beyond: The DATA Act and RESTRICT Act”

Reuters Article 3/28/2023: “If TikTok is banned, brace for epic First Amendment fight”

VICE Article 3/29/2023: The 'Insanely Broad' RESTRICT Act Could Ban Much More Than Just TikTok

Reason Article 3/31/2023: The RESTRICT Act Would Restrict a Lot More Than TikTok

ArsTechnica Article 3/31/2023: Meta can’t buy TikTok, so it hired GOP operatives to run a smear campaign

https://twitter.com/evan_greer/status/1642721929013362688?s=46&t=9ilK5pqP73XDblTtTbb4Qg

https://twitter.com/Imani_Barbarin/status/1640527908790837250?t=nTf7qCAcXB1s1RE-fb2Cwg&s=19

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#STOPRESTRICTACT #tiktok ban #RESTRICT ACT #Fuck the RESTRICT Act #internet censorship #free speech #stop internet censorship #Mass surveillance #internet privacy #everyone for this bill wants to be even richer #legislation #politics

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mackjlee9 · 1 year

Text

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Male!Reader [Angst&Fluff]

Warning; typical cod violence, mentions of death, reader speaks Spanish, my cod theory for og mw2, code name is night because I'm too dumb to think of something better, reader is kind of a medic for tf-141, medical inaccuracies, kinda messy narrative/plot.

Masterlist.

Hopefully, this is good enough 😬

Ever since (M/n) joined the Task Force 141 team and met the masked man named Ghost, this recurrent nightmare has plagued his dreams, leaving him shaking, crying, and restless for the rest of the night until he felt reassured that no one was hurt.

For months, the same nightmare repeated itself.

They arrive at the site, get ambushed by the enemy, secure the data from the safe house, and get betrayed by Shepherd when the extraction team arrives.

At first, (M/n) would also be killed, along with Roach and Ghost, the bullet wound feeling like a grace when their bodies were set on fire, leaving them there while he hears Price's voice through the communication device in his ear.

But with time, as the same pattern kept repeating itself, corrupting (M/n)'s sleep, he began being able to take control of his actions and rewrite history.

For days- weeks, (M/n) failed to save them both at the same time, and inevitably, he would also end up dying due to the enemy fire, but not this time. He refused to fail again. He was tired of being unable to sleep- of being afraid because of a nightmare.

Waking up from it was painful, and because of it, (M/n) started growing attached to Ghost, always following him around and making sure he was out of lethal danger when out on missions.

Of course, Ghost found that annoying at first, constantly looking like a lost puppy while trailing behind him, but whenever he was having a hard time, be it during a mission or at the base, he knew (M/n) would always be with him, silently taking care of him. He grew used to it even though he knew he shouldn't blindly trust someone so easily.

That night, after getting the intel from El Sin Nombre about the missile, they regrouped and slept for a few hours before starting the mission. Through the whole time Graves was in their team back at Las Almas, he was wary, knowing Shadow Company was under Shepherd's command.

It was dumb really, not trusting his teammates because of something that didn't even happen in the first place. But something about that nightmare told (M/n) to believe it. How? It may have been some parallel universe, his past self telling him to save himself, save Roach... To save Simon Riley from Shepherd's betrayal.

And with that, (M/n) has never trusted Shepherd again, and he didn't trust Shadow Company as they were an added asset to their small team.

And right as he fell asleep, it happened.

Stumbling his way on the grass while holding tightly onto the lone of one of the enemy trucks, watching with blurry eyes how the executions occurred again, hearing Price's voice, telling them to not trust Shepher, hearing the desperation in his voice made tears fill (M/n)'s eyes, but he quickly blinked them away.

(M/n) watched with hatred how Graves poured gasoline on them and as if in slow motion, he saw Shepherd throw his cigar on their weak, wounded bodies. He crawled as fast yet quietly as he could, watching them retreat to their helicopter, and soon as they were out of range, (M/n) ran to them and placed the lone on them, mitigating the flames to prevent lethal burns.

He took off his tactical gear, rid with bullets, and dropped it on top of them, keeping the lone in place with the heavy bulletproof vest, and he grabbed their vests, dragging them to the woods, hiding in the tall grass, being covered by the trees.

Keeping himself low and steady, (M/n) saw and heard enemies approaching before leaving, reaching for his radio, (M/n) tried to put pressure on Ghost's wound, "Captain," he said quietly, helping Roach stay awake, his hand pressing under his vest where the bullet was. He was trying so hard to keep them alive.

"Sergeant! Are you okay?" (M/n) took a deep breath and tried to fight back the tears, he still didn't know if Ghost will make it out of this one alive.

Swallowing the knot in his throat, (M/n) responded back. "I'm okay, but Roach and Ghost need medical attention immediately," with those words, Price called for an extraction helicopter with medics to (M/n)'s position, reassuring the Sergeant that help was on the way.

Roach had managed to stay unconscious and was keeping as much pressure on the wound as he could, resting against the nearest tree and signaling (M/n) to help their Lieutenant instead.

He focused on trying to wake up Ghost, occasionally glancing at Roach to make sure he wouldn't pass out. Hurriedly, he took off Ghost's sunglasses and balaclava, leaning close to his face, hearing and feeling his slow, short breathing, and something in (M/n) seems to have found peace, such a great peace that made him cry.

"Simon... wake up, please, for the love of God, wake up," he mumbled to himself, trying to shake him away, gently tapping his face while leaving his blood-covered hand on his bleeding wound, and somehow, by some kind of miracle, he opened his eyes.

"(M/n)...?" He smiled at Ghost and gently stroked his face, "W-what-? Sh-Shepherd-!"

"Is okay, is okay, he's gone," he softly said, preventing him from sitting up, "Try to stay with me, Simon, c'mon," after that, the incoming pilot needed to know the exact location, so groaning, (M/n) took a smoke flare for his vest and threw it far enough for the pilot to spot, and soon, help arrived.

Two medics rushed out and scouted the area until they spotted the three men hiding in the shadows of the trees. They ran toward them and helped Roach up, taking him to the helicopter while another group of two came out with a stretcher, soon carrying Ghost to the helicopter, and (M/n) followed close behind them, his vest in his hand as they take off.

(M/n) watches how the medics stabilize and clean Roach and Ghost's wounds. Now, he finally relaxes, knowing he changed history...

Even if it only was the history of a dumb, meaningless nightmare that put him through so much pain and guilt.

No one commented on how tired yet relieved (M/n) looked when he woke up, they just got ready to carry on with the mission and stop the missile.

//////

Well, (M/n) kinda wished he wasn't right.

He got off of the back of the jeep as they arrived at Alejandro's base, and he immediately knew something was off.

"I'm calling Shepherd," Soap said turning around and heading back to the jeep, but Graves' words stopped him.

"General Shepherd sends his regards, he told me y'all wouldn't take this well," keeping an eye out for any Shadow soldiers, (M/n) reached his hand to grab his SMG that he left on one of the empty seats, and pretty soon, things got nasty.

With gritted teeth, (M/n) shot a few Shadows coming his way while running to cover. He kept an eye on Ghost and Soap as much as he could, earning him a shot on his left thigh, making him wince and grip tightly on his gun. The bastard that shot him got close to him, trying to finish him, but (M/n) was quick to grip his knife, knocking the weapon off his hands and piercing the skin of his throat with the sharp blade.

He used the man's dead body as a shield and with scary accuracy, he threw the knife at the man that had knocked Alejandro unconscious.

But even if he wanted to help the rest of the team, the enemies were closing in on them, quickly outnumbering them, and they were only left to retreat and regroup somewhere safe.

Ghost, Soap, and he got separated, and left to deal with Shadows by themselves, but it was okay, they were more than capable of that.

//////

Finding a place to rest for a moment, (M/n) took the empty utility belt from his right thigh and used it to put pressure above the gushing bullet wound on his left thigh, ripping the long sleeve of his shirt and using it to stop the bleeding, holding in a hiss at the pain that had begun to numb his leg.

His hearing picked up the sound of static and he realized it came from his radio, and when he looked at it, he realized it was pretty much busted, but somehow was still alive, letting him hear Soap's voice followed by Ghost's, well, at least he knew they were alive.

Groaning, (M/n) stood up from the wet ground and gripped onto his gun tightly, reaching for the suppressor in the pocket of his vest, attaching it to his SMG, and feeling around the pockets, realizing he only had a spare magazine, so he had to make his shots count.

"-A church... RV there-" Ghost's voice was cut off, but at least, (M/n) now knew where to head.

Well, kind of.

He sneaked around as quickly and swiftly as he could, taking out Shadows easier thanks to the suppressor on his gun, sneaking in a few knives kills and staying in the shadows, letting them pass when they were too many or were distracted shooting civilians.

Every now and then, the static of his radio would get his attention, relaxing him as he knew his two closest friends were still kicking ass. And he heard the smallest bit of a conversation that got his attention.

"Show-... face?" Ghost said, followed by Soap.

"Are-... ugly?" Well, he didn't have to be a genius to know what Soap had asked their Lieutenant.

"Quite- opposite," was all Ghost responded.

And that brought back the memory of seeing his face in his dream, but there was no way, that was just his imagination giving someone he cared for so dearly a face. He has never seen Ghost's face. Not that he cared either way.

But soon after, Shadows started running in the same direction, pulling away injured soldiers, and well, (M/n) put them out of their misery, but he also headed toward the same direction, because the only reason they would attack so aggressively would be because they found Ghost and Soap.

And hearing Shadows yelling 'it's them!' was a dead giveaway.

Limping, (M/n) moved through the houses, finding the quickest, safest way to both of them, seeing as he couldn't exactly run for long, and eventually, he found both of them right as Ghost climbed over the fence of the church.

They saw him before he got a chance to call for them.

"(M/n)!" Soap called him and stood by his side, helping him steady himself.

"I'm okay, Soap..." Ghost looked at them, but they heard Shadows approaching, so they really couldn't stay still for long.

"We need a vehicle, on me!" Running ahead, (M/n) reassured Soap that he could move by himself, and with no need to be quiet anymore, (M/n) grabbed an enemy's weapon and fired back, following both males close behind, "Pick up truck, ahead!"

"I see it!" Soap and he yelled, and while Ghost got on the driver seat and Soap took shotgun, (M/n) got on the back of the truck, keeping every Shadow soldier that got close to them at bay.

Of course, that didn't prevent Ghost from running them over, and that kinda made (M/n) chuckle.

"Get back!" (M/n) heard Soap yell, looking to his right where he saw an enemy falling to the ground, a few more behind him, and (M/n) shot them down since they were shooting at them, and soon Ghost drove off.

The whole ride was quiet, and (M/n) loosened the belt over his wound a little, feeling the lack of circulation affecting his leg, and he still had to take the bullet out, clean, and disinfect it... hopefully whenever they're going will have what he needs for it.

Thanks to the busted glass of the truck, (M/n) heard Ghost and Soap talking about Graves' betrayal, and how Shepherd was in on it right before the truck stopped, the light of dawn slowly illuminating their surroundings.

They got off the truck, and (M/n) winced when he put more weight than intended on his legs, walking past them as they grabbed their weapons and closed the truck doors.

"You can't be betrayed if you never trusted them," he said while walking ahead, soon stopping in front of the structure. (M/n) heard Ghost telling them that this was Alejandro's safehouse, and (M/n) looked at the ground, noticing the pressure plates by the entrance.

Spotting the window as a viable entrance, they made their way inside.

(M/n) stayed outside, keeping guard while waiting for Ghost, just in case.

"Don't move!" The Lieutenant's voice caught his attention, glancing up at him and soon hearing Rodolfo's voice.

(M/n) quickly climbed in with Ghost's help, carefully landing on his right foot.

"Night, que bueno verte," he nodded.

"Lo mismo digo, Rudy."

//////

After coming up with a plan to save Alejandro, everyone was getting stuff ready, and while that happened, (M/n) had found medical supplies and was tending to his wound.

He ripped his pant open just enough to have a better view of what he was working with. He got the bullet out and stitched the wound after cleaning and disinfecting it. He has never clenched his jaw as hard as he did just then, but the skin around the hole in his legs was pretty much numb, so sewing it was easier than expected.

While he was wrapping a clean bandage around it, Ghost came by, observing how he took care of his wound.

"Did you know? About Graves," (M/n) wasn't startled because he heard him walk up to him, so he just looked up at him, trying to maintain a stoic expression.

He couldn't tell Ghost he didn't trust Graves and Shepherd just because of a nightmare of him being shot by Shepherd, he would seem crazy and he needed to have a cool, leveled head at all times in the military, so he just shrugged at Ghost's question.

"No, but it felt... off, no puedo explicarlo, Ghost," he simply looked at (M/n) and nodded.

"Alright, I trust you, Sergeant."

He couldn't help the smile on his face at his superior's words, "Thank you, Lieutenant."

Ghost helped him stand up and (M/n) took the necessary stuff to help patch up Soap's wound, despite having the Scotsman refuse over and over again, saying he was fine.

//////

"I'm out. Watch for me," Ghost left the security room while Soap kept an eye on the CCTV feed, and (M/n) kept an eye out near the door, occasionally hearing Ghost's voice through the communicator followed by Soap's instructions.

A short while after, Rodolfo found Alejandro in solitary, and they followed Ghost's orders of meeting outside the cellblock.

On the way to Alejandro's cell, they were swarmed with Shadows trying to stop them, but to no avail, and they soon got to Alejandro, who almost broke Soap's face if it wasn't for Rudy stopping him.

The way back out wasn't easy either, with gunfire back and forth, they struggled against so many Shadow soldiers, but the sound of a helicopter got everyone's attention.

However, the enemy helicopter was soon shot down by an RPG, followed by Ghost saying Price was there.

They all ran to the wall where Price and Gaz were covering them from the enemy fire. They stood guard and downed Shadows, exploding their vehicles while the ropes were placed on the other side of the wall, and right after hearing Price's order, all of them got down.

In the sheep, Price told everyone what happened with Shepherd, Shadow Company, and the missiles, it was quick and direct, and without realizing it, (M/n)'s fatigue caught up to him, and he fell asleep on the sheep on the ride back to base.

That time, the nightmare was gone, but now, he was with Ghost in the base's infirmary instead of on the battlefield. He was watching over the unconscious male, his wound slowly but surely, healing. (M/n) saw Ghost waking up, and before he could realize what his body was doing, he leaned down to place a soft kiss on his lips, observing his eyes flutter open.

"You just kissed an unconscious person, Sergeant," (M/n) chuckled at his playful words, and he gently pushed his hair away from his face.

"I'm just happy you're alive, Simon."

Damn, he has never woken up as flustered as he was just now, right when the sheep stopped too, realizing he had fallen asleep on none other than Simon himself.

The masked male had been watching over (M/n), gently drying the tears that fell down his face, something (M/n) hadn't realized until Ghost pointed it out.

"The same nightmare?" He said in a soft voice, kinda weird coming from him, but his words made (M/n) remember the first few times he had to deal with that nightmare.

He would always wake up crying and he had to take a breather, walking out of his quarters to take some fresh air, and Ghost found him one time, asking him what was bothering him.

"A nightmare," was all he said, and Ghost hummed, standing next to him under the soft yellow glow of the lamp, feeling the cool breeze touching their exposed skin.

They stayed quiet for a few seconds, until Ghost broke it, "You wanna talk about it?" He asked gently, having a lot of experience when it came to having nightmares. Sometimes, forgetting them was easier than talking about them, but there was the rare occasion when talking about it was better than ignoring those ever happened.

(M/n) looked at him, chuckling when he saw him wearing a plain balaclava.

"No, I'm good, sir," after that, both of them said a quiet good night and went back to their respective rooms.

This kept happening a few more times, especially when he would wake up crying and covered in sweat. He would leave his room and quietly cry while the chill air messed with his clothes and hair, drying the tears that had fallen down his face. Ghost noticed how often this nightmare would make (M/n) up, and the Sergeant only said it was always the same one. The exact same one. So he didn't ask more, he just... stood there until they would leave back to bed.

(M/n) never told him mainly because he was embarrassed, and he thought it was just a bad dream, nothing else. And that brings him back to reality

"Not exactly, it was... a nice dream," he muttered while drying his tears himself, "I'm happy to have you as my Lieutenant, sir."

Ghost looked at him, seeing (M/n)'s eyes shining with something that made his heart race.

//////

This wasn't the first time...

It really wasn't.

(M/n) couldn't help but stare at Ghost with wide eyes when he saw him take his balaclava off.

He looked exactly like the Ghost in his dream, despite having never seen his face before. There's no way...

Maybe... it wasn't just a bad dream after all...

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