#Cyber Security Analyst

[stealseek]

🕵️‍♂️ StealSeek — A Tool that Tracks the Digital World

Leaks, data breaches and information lost in the depths of the dark web… For those who think they are invisible on the Internet, there is StealSeek.

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[3d-labs-blog]

apply cyber security job

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https://3d-labs.com/career/

[windowsadministration]

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[takeoffproject]

Exploring the Benefits of Network Security Projects

Look into Takeoff's dynamic Network Security Projects List, curated to fortify digital ecosystems against cyber threats. Our complete portfolio covers innovative solutions customize to safeguard critical data and infrastructure. From advanced encryption protocols to proactive threat detection systems, Takeoff prioritizes the resilience and integrity of your network. Explore how our projects empower organizations to navigate the complexities of modern cybersecurity landscapes with confidence and efficiency.

Security projects in networks entail projects that are aimed at vulnerabilities of the mode of computers by unlawful access, misuse, or disruption. These projects are good because networks form the base of modern communication, because devices and systems connect with each other on the global scale.

One incorporation of network security project is the place of the firewalls which functions as gateway between an internal trusted network and the external untrusted networks like an Internet. Firewalls monitor and filter traffic allowing incoming and outgoing traffic based on the predefined security policies, hence closing in on their security objectives barring malicious activities.

Another vital attribute is network initiates (IDS) as well as network prevention (IPS). IDS studies and detects suspicious traffic together with patterns, IPS also operates on the prevention step by itself stopping threats being ahead and causing any damage to the network.

This security tool is the key factor in the designing of network security projects. It uses a technique to encode data that Bob, the intended recipient, or those with Bob's access, can access only while the unauthorized parties can not access it, ensuring privacy as well as data integrity. The protocols of the secure communication like the SSL/TLS protocols encrypt data transmitted from networks hence inputing the data protection from interception and eavesdropping.

An organization should not forget that security auditing and updating are compulsory aspects of network security projects. These comprise auditing network's posture, finding out weakness and upgrading the security patches or update to hassle the risks. Besides, the employee training and awareness programs are the key components that must be kept in sight in order to preserve network security, as the errors or carelessness of employees are a gateway for cyber attackers.

In Takeoff, The Network Security Projects List does a great job in securing networks from various cyber menaces. These initiatives aim to not only prevent cyber attacks but also to ensure that data is secured and services continue without disruptions. The implementation of these safeguards will empower both government agencies and private organizations to secure their systems. This will translate to increased productivity and peace of mind. Takeoff's focus on enhancing the security of networks to secure digital infrastructure and provide organizations with robust cyber protection in a constantly changing cyber world.

[iridescentalchemyst]

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[warmcookiepuff]

DUNCE ( childhood friends reunited, except he didn't do it earlier)

-- gn! reader, jason todd, estranged friendship, multiple part series

tw: curse words (many), mentions of death, implied reader having depression but no deep dive, reader has a job, funny at the end

--- ⋆｡°✩°｡⋆ ---

You both used to be friends. Close friends. He used to come by your place when his mom was high, you'd come to his when your dad was fighting with his most recent partner.

It was rough back then, two kids from Crime Alley against the world. But you made it work, you were as happy as you both could be -- before he got adopted by Bruce Wayne and disappeared almost instantly out of your life.

You didn't know how to take it. Him living big and shiny while you... planned your dad's funeral with some distant family members. Drunk driving, he hit a lamp post and it fell over. It didn't hit you hard, you felt he was going to die a death similar. Matter of time.

You also didn't know how to handle his death a few years later. How do you mourn someone who you haven't seen for so long? He hadn't even come to see you, and you didn't want to bother. Jason's death was even more shocking -- confidential to a terrorist attack? He was smart enough to stay away from those areas.

He probably had so many others come over to his grave to leave flowers. But you came anyway, after the service. With a small flower of your own and a chilli dog in the other.

A dandelion, a small nod to your childhood together when he picked some tiny flowers from the moss that grew over damp areas around the alleys you both would skedaddle off to, for you. You left the chilli dog by his grave, wrapped nicely, with the flower laying on top. He was an idiot for not keeping in contact. You cried a little anyway. The last person to know you by heart had died and you were left alone again.

A few years later, you got your diploma in computer engineering and got a job as a cyber security analyst for a well-known tech company. From a crappy apartment, you've upgraded to a decent one a little outside of Gotham City, not too far so you don't miss the stench of cigarettes and the sound of vigilantes fighting in the streets. Just enough to be safe from trouble. That was until you were given a new task at work. It was different from the rest, your boss gave more serious undertones in his emails. Freaks you out a little bit. Alas, you work from home, trouble arrives nowhere near where you live. Perhaps, it would be better to be a little naive.

That was, until, the strangest thing happened.

"Quit your job. I'm serious, (Name)," His voice was stern and strong, his posture intimidating. He stands before you with all his gear; guns in holsters, fists with brass under his gloves. Red Hood stands in the middle of your living room, watching you freak under his stare.

"Fuck no. What?!" You yelled, gripping onto your frying pan like it was going to help you dodge any of his bullets. "You're in my house! I'm not even close to your area?!"

"What're you even doing here-- How'd you know my name--," Your nervous rambling was cut off by him holding the top of the frying pan and pushing it away. He's mindful not to take it from you, but not too mindful about keeping a respectful distance.

You were going to piss yourself.

"(Name), you're digging too deep in spaces you don't wanna find yourself in. You need to leave your job and lay low. It's not safe," He says, quietly this time. Much softer. He was reasoning with you, begging even. Like he cared.

You knew Red Hood wasn't cruel to innocent civilians, but when he shows up, it's never a good sign. He's the one people call to eradicate someone from the face of the earth, he started his career strong by beheading 8 men and carrying their heads around in a bowling bag.

You looked at him in the eyes -- or where they should be behind his mask, took a deep breath and relaxed your grip on the frying pan.

"Why should I trust you?" You asked him, your tone serious and unsure. He hesitates for a bit before standing up straight. The vigilante stares at you for a solid second, your bravery falters for a moment. "Don't freak out," He asks. You want to argue but he takes his mask off.

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Stay still," You ask him.

[eternallyordinary]

“He Belongs To You” - Part 24

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series masterlist<3

i’m so obsessed with eternal sunshine deluxe omg. so i added some lyrics from twilight zone to the fic 🫧 listen while reading for the full experience ;) i love ariana sm ugh

Summary: When the world goes quiet, all that remains is the bond you can’t escape.

Warnings: violence, death, kidnapping, power imbalance, possessiveness, manipulation, emotional tension, stalking, implied violence, murder planning, toxic relationship dynamics, yandere

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Homelander

Fluorescent lights hum overhead. Monitors flicker. Homelander storms into the cyber security room like a bomb with legs.

A half-eaten bagel drops from an intern’s hand. Half the department stands on instinct, others pretend not to notice him like prey freezing at the sound of a predator.

He doesn’t have time for their fear.

“Bellamy. Andrew Bellamy. Find him.”

He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to. The weight of it, the way the syllables curl into a threat—it’s enough. No one dares to ask why.

A senior analyst stammers as they start pulling up records. “L-last known address flagged as a psychiatric facility. Bellwick. Escaped two weeks ago—uh, incident involved a missing nurse and a stolen car—”

“I know that already,” Homelander snaps. “I want to know where the fuck he is now.”

The analyst flinches, nods, types faster.

“Pulling financials. Power grid activity. Phone pings…”

On the screen, a deed flashes.

BELLAMY FAMILY PROPERTY

Utilities turned on exactly two weeks ago.

There it is.

“That’s it,” Homelander breathes. “That’s the fucking place. It has to be.”

Ashley barrels in, phone to her ear, trying to keep up.

“Homelander—please—can we pause before you go nuclear again—let’s bring someone in, loop in the FBI, limit the risk of potential blowback, you can’t just—”

“Blowback? If you speak again,” he says without looking at her, “I’ll peel your face off in front of your team. How’s that for blowback, Ashley?”

Ashley freezes.

Homelander grabs the paper with the address, glances once at the screen, then blasts through the ceiling��shattering lights, monitors, hearts.

The room is left in stunned silence, the scent of scorched air lingering like a warning.

⸻

You

The cold no longer bites — it clings, fused to your skin like it belongs there. The chains rattle softly when you move, though you rarely bother anymore. Your arms feel like lead, your wrists raw and swollen, possibly infected.

But none of that compares to the ache of a far crueler question:

Has he forgotten you?

Did he?

Could he?

Is he the reason you’re here?

It’s a strange feeling, one you don’t recognize. You’ve never been in love. Never been the type to obsess. And yet, he happened — a force of nature you never saw coming. And somehow, you don’t regret it.

Even now, chained and broken and alone…

You’d still choose him.

Because for the first time in your life, you felt like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

Or did you dream the whole thing? Were you actually in a nightmare? Different dimensions, stuck in the twilight zone. Is this a black and white scene? If so, you’re in the gray one.

And if Homelander knows… if he’s the reason you’re here—

You hope he wins Best Actor. Because you had him completely wrong.

Footsteps trail down the stairs, pulling you away from your thoughts. Andrew comes down the creaking steps, humming something tuneless.

“Hey, princess. Still alive?”

You don’t answer. But you don’t scream anymore, either. That’s not survival.

He plops down across from you, legs crossed like a camp counselor.

“You’ve gotten so polite,” he muses. “I always knew you’d adapt. Trauma has a way of softening the edges.”

You say nothing. Stare past him.

But then he tilts his head and smiles in a way that makes your blood go cold.

“He’s coming, by the way.”

Your body stiffens.

“Don’t just sit there,” Andrew grins. “It’s your boyfriend, after all. Aren’t you excited?”

“How… how do you know he’s coming?”

“Eli told me.”

You blink.

“He said, ‘Soon. When the sun is just above the trees. When the guilt cracks the glass.’”

You freeze.

“I didn’t get it at first,” Andrew says with a casual shrug. “But then I saw the news—that little segment about me, the photo of Eli. And suddenly it all clicked. He probably saw it, lost his shit, broke the TV. Eli was always good with riddles.”

Your heart thuds.

“So, yeah,” he nods, cheerful now. “He’s on his way. Today’s the day.”

Andrew stands up, walks over to an old desk in the corner. He opens a drawer, pulling out a syringe.

“The only virus that can kill Supes. I don’t even know if it’ll work,” he admits, voice light. “But just the thought… of that godlike bastard realizing, even for a second, that someone could hurt him?”

He smiles, slow and serene.

“That’s enough for me.”

“Why?” you whisper. “Why kill yourself to kill him?”

“Because I have nothing left,” he shrugs. “Eli’s dead. My parents are gone. The girl I loved left. I’ve got nothing but revenge—and even that’s borrowed. But him?”

He kneels again, eye-level with you.

“He gets everything. So if I can take just one of those things back—his power? His life? You?—then I win.”

He tucks the syringe into his back pocket like it’s nothing more than a pen.

“Today’s the day.”

And you realize he wants to die. He planned to die. But not before taking Homelander with him. Not before making you watch.

“What are you going to do to me?”

Andrew’s expression doesn’t change.

That calm, unnerving smile stays frozen on his face, like he’s rehearsed this moment a thousand times.

“To you?” he repeats softly, like he’s genuinely considering it for the first time. “Hmm.”

He stands again, slowly pacing, dragging his fingertips along the stone wall, his boots echoing in the stillness.

“You’re a bonus,” he finally says. “Collateral. A symbol. You’re the prize he thinks he gets to keep.” He turns to face you. “But you’re the one who led him to Eli. You’re the one who made him feel… jealous. Weak.”

He shrugs again, as if he’s discussing a weather forecast.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

Your heart pounds in your ears.

“I could let him watch you die.”

“I could use you to lure him closer.”

“I could inject you instead and let him watch you fall.”

He tilts his head.

“So many options. But I like to improvise. Eli always said I had a flair for drama.”

Your lip trembles despite yourself. But you don’t speak. You can’t give him the satisfaction.

Andrew walks closer again. Kneels once more—just close enough for you to smell the stale sweat and the sour scent of metal on his clothes.

He leans in.

“You know what scares men like him the most?” he whispers. “Not losing power. Not even dying. It’s losing something they love. Something they can’t control. Something fragile.”

His eyes gleam as they study yours.

“He’ll hear you scream before I kill him. That’s the part I’m most excited about.”

Your stomach turns. The urge to vomit claws up your throat, but you hold it in. Barely.

He reaches up and tucks a blood-matted strand of hair behind your ear.

“Smile for him when he gets here. Make it look real.”

Then he stands, dusts off his jeans, and moves toward the stairs.

“I’m going to tidy up. He deserves a proper welcome.”

And just like that, you’re alone again. With your heart hammering. With the echo of your chains. With the syringe still in his pocket.

And the knowledge that he won’t stop—unless you stop him first.

Today’s the day.

Just… not the way he thinks.

⸻

You sit in the silence.

Every part of you is sore. Your limbs are numb. Your throat is raw from screams you haven’t let out. You feel like you’ve been hollowed out and filled with fear.

But something else is starting to rise inside you now.

Not fear. Not grief.

Rage.

A heat you didn’t know you still had pulses in your chest like a second heartbeat. You close your eyes and try to focus. You know the steps in the floor he avoids. The one that creaks—he skips it every time. He’s a creature of habit. Predictable.

He’s unstable, but he likes control.

He has the syringe. The plan. The show he wants to put on.

And you’re the only one who can stop him.

You look around the room and spot a piece of broken glass in the corner. A small shard. Sharp enough.

Your breathing slows.

You inch toward it.

You wait.

Footsteps again. Heavy. Casual.

Humming.

That fucking humming.

He’s coming back.

Fuck.

You barely grab the glass and tuck it under your thigh just as the door creaks open.

He steps inside, hands clean now, the same smile on his face.

“He’ll be here soon,” he says lightly. “I made coffee. You should probably fix your hair. Wouldn’t want to look like a mess in your final moments.”

He walks toward you. Crouches in front of you again. He looks at you like you’re an art piece he doesn’t understand but wants to ruin.

“Any last words?” he asks, amused.

You stare up at him. You let the silence stretch. You let your lip quiver just a little.

You see the spark of satisfaction in his eyes. Good. Let him think he’s already won.

Then—

You move.

The shard slices across his cheek, deep and fast. He screams, stumbling backward, clutching his face.

You’re already on your feet, yanking your wrist free from the chain. You don’t know how you have the strength, but you’re not questioning it.

You’re running—no, crashing into him. Slamming him into the wall. He swings, hits your jaw, but adrenaline keeps you upright. You elbow him in the throat. He gags.

You don’t hesitate. You reach into his pocket. The syringe.

You hold it in your hand, fingers slick with his blood.

“Don’t,” he rasps, voice different now. “Don’t do this.”

You stare down at him. Panting. Shaking.

“You were never going to make it out of here,” you whisper. “You were never going to let me live.”

His eyes shift—looking at the door behind you.

And that’s when he makes a mistake.

“He’s almost here,” he mutters, like it’s some sacred thing. “I can feel him.”

You pause.

Your heart skips.

You don’t know if it’s true.

“Maybe I’ll just stab you with it instead. Imagine him flying in, only to find you dead at his feet.”

That’s the last straw.

You lunge.

You slam him back down. Again. Again. You don’t even realize you’re screaming.

The syringe clatters away.

You don’t need it.

You don’t want it.

All you want is for him to stop breathing.

So you make sure he does.

You don’t feel your hands anymore. You don’t hear your own screaming. You just see his face caved in, neck at the wrong angle, mouth frozen in that final, awful smile.

You sit there, panting, soaked in blood—his, yours, it doesn’t matter anymore.

And then—

The door slams open.

You flinch. You brace for him—for Homelander—

But the voice that fills the room is someone else’s.

“Oi—lad didn’t stand a chance, did he?”

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tags: @raginginkedslut @emily048 @lilyalone @harlowedoktravelsthemultiverse @helreyy @forest-green-1994 @rainbowangel

[nanamineedstherapy]

Tactical Crocs & Emotional Warfare

F!Reader x Gojo Satoru x Nanami Kento

Previous Oneshot Chapter [Tumblr/Ao3] | Main Series [Tumblr/Ao3]

A/N: When your security team costs more than a small country's GDP but the real threat is a raccoon with a Hermès addiction. Enjoy this slice of domestic terrorism (ft. Gojo’s tactical Crocs). No spoilers, but someone does get scolded via Chopin.

Int. Private Security Room—Night—14 Hours To Cameras Up

The koi pond feed flickers. A baby sock drifts across the surface. Nobody flinches.

Half the screens are silent surveillance footage: nursery, koi pond vault, her lower office, the terrarium room that used to be a guest bath. Takahashi (the raccoon, not the CFO) sleeps curled on a miniature futon in a separate window—one paw flung over a satin pillow like royalty.

The red alert blinks in the upper left corner: VOGUE JAPAN CREW ARRIVES. TO BE HELD IN GREEN ROOM.

Nanami Kento doesn’t look up. His pen glides over a set of architectural schematics—his third revision in as many hours. He’s in matte black tactical Kevlar (no one knows why at this hour), sleeves rolled to the forearms, sorcery glasses glinting under sterile lighting. There’s a faint ink smudge on his wrist. He’s furious about it.

Gojo Satoru sits across from him in a Hello Kitty hoodie and tactical Crocs, chewing lychee Pocky like he’s running hostage negotiations out of a Daiso. His wayfarers reflect the screen showing his stolen blindfold around Takahashi’s neck like he’s cosplaying “Bandit” in his sleep. The six-eyes wielder looks like the kind of genius whose brain can calculate missile trajectory mid-nap but will forget to refrigerate breast milk.

Around them, the highest-paid security personnel on the Pacific Rim. A blend of private military, cyberwarfare analysts, and cursed-artifact consultants. Some sip espresso from tactical thermoses. Others pretend they’re not being paid eight figures plus to protect a non-sorcerer pregnant woman, two war criminals, and a possibly sentient raccoon.

The Executive Protection Team (Core Security) had primarily been assembled by Megumi, and they relocated with you to Japan after your marriage, remaining fiercely loyal but now having an equal number of Nanami and Gojo’s people, ex-Jujutsu Teachers (sorcerers).

Former JSDF Special Forces Operatives (1st Airborne Brigade or Special Operations Group)  (¥60M+ each).

Japan's equivalent to Navy SEALs/Delta Force, trained in high-risk protection.

Ex-Metropolitan Police Department (MPD) Security Police (SP) Officer. (¥50M+ each).

SP protects Japanese VIPs (e.g., PM, royals). Only available if retired early. Know all police protocols to avoid legal issues.

Cursed Energy Security Specialists Team (for Sorcerer-Level Threats).

Ex-Jujutsu Tech Professors (Non-Gojo Clan, Independent) (¥100M+ each).

Detects/neutralizes curses without relying on Jujutsu High. 

Limitation: Hard to find; must be lured with extreme pay.

Cursed Artifact Security Consultant (¥80M+ each).

Prevents cursed objects from entering the home (e.g., "gifts" from enemies).

Background: Former curse-user turned private sector.

Cyber/Electronic Warfare Team (For Tech CEO Threats).

Ex-Unit 8200 (Israeli Cyber Intel) + NSA Hacker (¥120M+ each).

Best in the world for preventing corporate espionage/blackmail.

Loophole: Hired as a "consultant" to avoid gov restrictions.

Japanese Cyber Defense Force Veteran (¥60M+ each).

Knows domestic cyber laws inside out.

Perk: Can legally bug your own home (with consent).

Logistics & Emergency Extraction Team.

Private Military Contractor (PMC) Pilot (Ex-USAF/JSDF) (¥70M+ each).

On standby with a private jet/helicopter for emergency medevac (pregnancy risks).

Loophole: Based in international waters (Okinawa) to bypass Japanese airspace laws.

Medical Security Specialist (Ex-SAS Medic) (¥50M+ each).

Trauma Care + can extract during a curse attack.

Perk: Licensed to carry restricted meds (e.g., sorcerer-grade painkillers).

Most of them report to her.

The wife.

CEO.

Third trimester.

Currently asleep, head tilted into Nanami’s neck like a sleepy heat-seeking missile, his other arm absently braced around her to stop her from falling off the ergonomic stool she refuses to replace.

A hushed voice cut through the tension. “She’s got a bounty on her.”

Nanami slammed a folder onto the table hard enough to rattle the coffee cups, his sleeves rolled up to expose forearms corded with muscle. “If we die, Protocol A-47 activates. She goes to the koi pond vault. No exceptions. Tranquilize her if necessary.”

The ex-fighter pilot—a woman with a scar bisecting her eyebrow—leaned back in her chair, flicking a toothpick between her teeth. “We have tranquilizers because she once roundhouse-kicked a logistics officer during a VR Mortal Kombat session. Broke his nose.”

Gojo licked sugar from his thumb and added, “Double-layer barrier on the nursery and Takahashi. If something happens to that raccoon, I’m flattening a country. I won’t say which. It’ll be a surprise.”

The NSA hacker, a twitchy man with dark circles under his eyes, flinched when the raccoon sneezed. “Why does the raccoon have his own panic room?”

Keji—sleek in his silk shirt, biceps straining the fabric as he crossed his arms—didn’t blink. “He has three. One is lined with titanium. One is wallpapered with Gojo-san’s baby photos. We do not enter it.”

Nanami’s pen paused mid-note, his gold wedding band glinting. “She’s not a combatant. She can’t defend herself against c-users.”

Gojo’s smirk vanished, his voice dropping to something darker. “And now, her bounty matches mine.”

The silence in the room was palpable, a live wire. Takahashi, curled in his heated pet bed, let out a tiny snore.

The SAS medic—a woman with a coiled braid and a grip that could crush tracheas—rubbed her temples. “We’re glorified nannies. Emotional support detail. Decoys.”

Nanami didn’t look up. “In case both of us die, Keji initiates the escape route. She doesn’t know about it. She already has insomnia. And stop calling it Project: Dead Dads.”

A former JSDF SOG operative, a wiry man who looked like he hadn’t slept in days, swallowed audibly. “Do we evacuate Takahashi?”

Gojo’s fingers stilled on his watermelon lollipop wrapper, the crinkle deafening. “What did I just say.”

Keji turned toward the security feeds, his profile sharp enough to draw blood. “He has a private jet. Smaller than Madame’s. Faster. I’m not authorized to speak why.”

Nanami’s glasses caught the light as he flipped a page. “There are four exit tunnels. One goes through a matcha café. Another leads under the koi pond, keyed to her retinal scan and Takahashi’s scent profile.”

The ex-jujutsu sorcerer—an older woman with ink-black nails and a lazy, lethal posture—stretched like a cat. “I taught metaphysics at Yale.”

Gojo’s grin returned, wider. “Now you guard a raccoon with a Hermès sponsorship and a platinum AmEx. Life’s a ride.”

An ex-MPD VIP guard, a hulking man with a baby face, muttered into his comms. “I used to run fintech. Now I sterilize breast pumps and sleep beneath a floating shikigami terrarium.”

Ignoring him, Nanami’s thumb brushed the edge of his wedding ring. “In an active threat, she and Takahashi go in the bunker. Keji, you emotionally stabilize her. Feed the raccoon his lavender sardine paste.”

Keji’s jaw tightened, leather gloves creaking. “It’s handmade. Infused with omega-3 and respect. I recite Edith Piaf while preparing it.”

Gojo twirled his sunglasses. “He even sings La Vie en Rose during thunderstorms.”

The lights flickered. No one moved.

Takahashi’s screech echoed down the hall—a sound like an opera-trained kettle being murdered.

Nanami didn’t react. “Seventy-five minutes. That’s all they’re allowed in the residence. Treat this as a red-tier civilian intrusion. Assume bugs, surveillance, and attempted breaches.”

Gojo licked his lollipop slowly. “And no touching the raccoon. She said she’ll cancel the shoot if they mess with his whiskers.”

Every head nodded. No one questioned it.

The upgraded chief logistics officer—a woman with a steel-gray bob and a sniper’s stillness—tapped her tablet. “We’ve staged all bathrooms, prepped diversionary designer fragrances, and disabled motion sensor lighting in the koi corridor. It made the raccoon look too... strategic.”

Keji, adjusting his gloves, coolly added, “Takahashi is sentient. And emotionally fragile.”

Nanami’s voice was sharp as a blade. “Staff wears navy. Press wears tags. Anyone untagged after the 42-minute mark: detain.”

The ex-Metropolitan Police officer, a woman built like a brick wall with a matching smirk, raised a brow. “If questioned?”

Gojo’s teeth flashed in a grin. “Blame jet lag. Or say they threatened the raccoon and his wildlife habitat.”

Another nod followed, deadly serious.

Nanami’s watch gleamed as he switched tabs. “Lighting rig pathways are pre-approved. No one enters the nursery, gaming room, or her lower office. Those are closed sets. If they insist—deny with polite aggression.”

Gojo pointed at the NSA tech, who shrank in his chair. “If they get pushy, hand them the fake NDA. The one with clause 14 about raccoon-based defamation lawsuits.”

The tech, a freckled kid who looked barely old enough to be here, stammered, “We scrubbed her images from the mob lynch incident off the internet. All reverse image searches redirect to a red fox in a Dior scarf.”

Keji’s mouth curled into a smirk. “We paid extra for that one. The fox is a union.”

The medical lead—a woman with biceps that could crack walnuts and a glare to match—slapped her protocol sheet down. “She’s on four prescriptions. None are to be mentioned. If she starts to spiral—”

Keji’s smile was all edges, his gloved fingers tapping once against his biceps. “I’ll realign her using the 'accidental' footage of Nanami-san cooking shirtless last week. It’s preloaded. Subtitled. And scored with Chopin.”

Nanami’s pen froze mid-air. “That wasn’t for anyone.”

Gojo, sprawled across two chairs, licked his lollipop with deliberate slowness. “It was for me. Obviously.”

An ex-JSDF pilot—a woman in her 50s with salt-and-pepper hair and a posture that screamed combat-ready—adjusted her earpiece. “Chopper’s on standby. Six-minute extraction from Okinawa. The vault opens in two. If she won’t move, the fetal monitor’s embedded in her gaming chair.”

Nanami's wedding band caught the light as he massaged his temple. “She won’t move. Not if they bring up Gojo’s hair again.”

Gojo’s sunglasses slid down as he jerked upright, voice dripping with offense. “My hair is real. Shut up.”

The cybersecurity lead asked, “Do we allow footage of the nursery?”

Nanami didn’t hesitate, his voice a steel door slamming shut. “No. The twins will not be monetized.”

Gojo twirled his sunglasses, his grin razor-thin. “Also, the wallpaper isn’t finished, and she’ll have a hormonal breakdown.”

The MPD veteran, a barrel-chested man with a voice like gravel, scratched his stubble. “What if they film the raccoon singing? The sound’s been... described as ‘emotional.’”

Keji turned to the camera, his smirk all quiet arrogance. “He sings behind silk. You hear him only if he allows it.”

Nanami’s finger traced the exit tunnel diagram, his glasses glinting like a warning. “Only Keji knows all exit codes. If she starts crying—”

Another SAS medic—a woman with a shaved head and a stare that could curdle milk—didn’t blink. “We sedate her and blame prenatal yoga. Like last time.”

The mood in the room remained tense.

Nanami’s knuckles went white around his folder. “We protect her. We protect the twins. You protect that damn raccoon like he’s the crown prince of France. If she stubs her toe and Vogue sees it—this entire household is done.”

Another NSA hacker, a young woman fixing her gloss, muttered under her breath. “She has three degrees, and one of them is in an unknown field. So I’m pretty sure she could crush this whole network if she wanted to.”

Keji leaned back, satisfaction rolling off him in waves. “She has. Twice.”

Gojo chewed the last of his lollipop. “Accidentally.”

The lights flickered—once.

“One lipstick smear on the marble. One wrong tote bag. One smug remark about ‘modern poly households’—I will end this.” Nanami’s final note was a scalpel to the throat, but his gaze softened as he glanced at his wife dozing on his shoulder, her cheek smooshed against the Kevlar vest.

Gojo rose, stretching with all his lazy grace, kissed Nanami's temple just to annoy him before scooping their wife into his arms like she still weighed nothing. Her sleepy “mmf?” earned a chuckle as he adjusted the hem of her shirt over her bump as she put her arms around him. “Smile for the cameras tomorrow, people,” he purred to the team, but his wedding ring-adorned finger brushed her knee—a silent you’re safe—as he carried her toward the bed, her breathing already muffled against his shoulder.

The private feed cut.

The koi pond glowed an eerie blue.

The single baby sock is still floating over it.

Video Title Card: The Pregnant CEO, The Two Husbands, and The Raccoon With Executive Privilege.

---

A/N: If you laughed, cried, or now fear Nanami’s spreadsheet skills, scream at me in the comments. (Gojo’s ego needs the validation. Takahashi demands tribute in lychee Pocky.)

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All Works Masterlist

Beta - @blackrimmedrose

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

March 2, 2025

Heather Cox Richardson

Mar 03, 2025

On February 28, the same day that President Donald Trump and Vice President J.D. Vance took the side of Russian president Vladimir Putin against Ukraine president Volodymyr Zelensky in the Oval Office, Martin Matishak of The Record, a cybersecurity news publication, broke the story that Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth has ordered U.S. Cyber Command to stop all planning against Russia, including offensive digital actions.

Both the scope of the directive and its duration are unclear.

On Face the Nation this morning, Representative Mike Turner (R-OH), a strong supporter of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) and Ukraine, contradicted that information. “Considering what I know, what Russia is currently doing against the United States, that would I’m certain not be an accurate statement of the current status of the United States operations,” he said. Well respected on both sides of the aisle, Turner was in line to be the chair of the House Intelligence Committee in this Congress until House speaker Mike Johnson (R-LA) removed him from that slot and from the intelligence committee altogether.

And yet, as Stephanie Kirchgaessner of The Guardian notes, the Trump administration has made clear that it no longer sees Russia as a cybersecurity threat. Last week, at a United Nations working group on cybersecurity, representatives from the European Union and the United Kingdom highlighted threats from Russia, while Liesyl Franz, the State Department’s deputy assistant secretary for international cybersecurity, did not mention Russia, saying the U.S. was concerned about threats from China and Iran.

Kirchgaessner also noted that under Trump, the Cybersecurity and Infrastructure Security Agency (CISA), which monitors cyberthreats against critical infrastructure, has set new priorities. Although Russian threats, especially those against U.S. election systems, were a top priority for the agency in the past, a source told Kirchgaessner that analysts were told not to follow or report on Russian threats.

“Russia and China are our biggest adversaries,” the source told Kirchgaessner. “With all the cuts being made to different agencies, a lot of cybersecurity personnel have been fired. Our systems are not going to be protected and our adversaries know this.” “People are saying Russia is winning,” the source said. “Putin is on the inside now.”

Another source noted that “There are dozens of discrete Russia state-sponsored hacker teams dedicated to either producing damage to US government, infrastructure and commercial interests or conducting information theft with a key goal of maintaining persistent access to computer systems.” “Russia is at least on par with China as the most significant cyber threat, the person added. Under those circumstances, the source said, ceasing to follow and report Russian threats is “truly shocking.”

Trump’s outburst in the Oval Office on Friday confirmed that Putin has been his partner in politics since at least 2016. “Putin went through a hell of a lot with me,” Trump said. “He went through a phony witch hunt where they used him and Russia… Russia, Russia, Russia—you ever hear of that deal?—that was a phony Hunter Biden, Joe Biden, scam. Hillary Clinton, shifty Adam Schiff, it was a Democrat scam. And he had to go through that. And he did go through it, and we didn’t end up in a war. And he went through it. He was accused of all that stuff. He had nothing to do with it. It came out of Hunter Biden’s bathroom.”

Putin went through a hell of a lot with Trump? It was an odd statement from a U.S. president, whose loyalty is supposed to be dedicated to the Constitution and the American people.

Trump has made dismissing as a hoax what he calls “Russia, Russia, Russia” central to his political narrative. But Russian operatives did, in fact, work to elect him in 2016. A 2020 report from the Republican-dominated Senate Intelligence Committee confirmed that Putin ordered hacks of Democratic computer networks, and at two crucial moments WikiLeaks, which the Senate committee concluded was allied with the Russians, dumped illegally obtained emails that were intended to hurt the candidacy of Democratic candidate Hillary Clinton. Trump openly called for Russia to hack Clinton’s emails.

Russian operatives also flooded social media with disinformation, not necessarily explicitly endorsing Trump, but spreading lies about Clinton to depress Democratic turnout, or to rile up those on the right by falsely claiming that Democrats intended to ban the Pledge of Allegiance, for example. The goal of the propaganda was not simply to elect Trump. It was to pit the far ends of the political spectrum against the middle, tearing the nation apart.

Fake accounts on Twitter, YouTube, Instagram, and Facebook drove wedges between Americans over issues of race, immigration, and gun rights. Craig Timberg and Tony Romm of the Washington Post reported in 2018 that Facebook officials told Congress that the Russian campaign reached 126 million people on Facebook and 20 million on Instagram.

That effort was not a one-shot deal: Russians worked to influence the 2020 presidential election, too. In 2021 the Office of the Director of National Intelligence concluded that Putin “authorized, and a range of Russian government organizations conducted, influence operations aimed at denigrating President [Joe] Biden’s candidacy and the Democratic Party, supporting former President Trump, undermining public confidence in the electoral process, and exacerbating sociopolitical division in the US.” But “[u]nlike in 2016,” the report said, “we did not see persistent Russian cyber efforts to gain access to election infrastructure.”

Moscow used “proxies linked to Russian intelligence to push influence narratives—including misleading or unsubstantiated allegations against President Biden—to US media organizations, US officials, and prominent US individuals, including some close to former President Trump and his administration,” the Office of the Director of National Intelligence concluded.

In October 2024, Matthew Olsen, head of the Justice Department’s National Security Division, warned in an interview with CBS News that Russia was bombarding voters with propaganda to divide Americans before that year’s election, as well. Operatives were not just posting fake stories and replying to posts, but were also using AI to manufacture fake videos and laundering Russian talking points through social media influencers. Just a month before, news had broken that Russia was funding Tenet Media, a company that hired right-wing personalities Tim Pool, Dave Rubin, Benny Johnson, Lauren Southern, Tayler Hansen, and Matt Christiansen, who repeated Russian talking points.

Now back in office, Trump and MAGA loyalists say that efforts to stop disinformation undermine their right to free speech. Project 2025, the extremist blueprint for the second Trump administration, denied that Russia had interfered in the 2016 election—calling it “a Clinton campaign dirty trick”—and called for ending government efforts to stop disinformation with “utmost urgency.” “The federal government cannot be the arbiter of truth,” it said.

On February 20, Steven Lee Myers, Julian E. Barnes, and Sheera Frenkel of the New York Times reported that the Trump administration is firing or reassigning officials at the FBI and CISA who had worked on protecting elections. That includes those trying to stop foreign propaganda and disinformation and those combating cyberattacks and attempts to disrupt voting systems.

Independent journalist Marisa Kabas broke the story that two members of the “Department of Government Efficiency” are now installed at CISA: Edward Coristine, a 19-year-old known as “Big Balls,” and Kyle Schutt, a 38-year-old software engineer. Kim Zetter of Wired reported that since 2018, CISA has “helped state and local election offices around the country assess vulnerabilities in their networks and help secure them.”

During the 2024 campaign, Trump said repeatedly that he would end the war in Ukraine. Shortly after the election, a newspaper reporter asked Nikolai Patrushev, who is close to Putin, if Trump’s election would mean “positive changes from Russia’s point of view.” Patrushev answered: “To achieve success in the elections, Donald Trump relied on certain forces to which he has corresponding obligations. And as a responsible person, he will be obliged to fulfill them.”

Today, Kremlin spokesperson Dmitry Peskov told a reporter: “The new administration is rapidly changing all foreign policy configurations. This largely aligns with our vision.”

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[3d-labs-blog]

apply cyber security job

https://3d-labs.com/career/ Innovation At Its Best : Join a team that thrives on creativity and innovation. At 3d-labs, we encourage out-of-the-box thinking and provide the resources necessary to transform ideas into reality. Global Impac t: Our projects span across industries and continents, making a significant impact on various sectors such as engineering, architecture, and more. As part of the 3d-labs team, you'll contribute to shaping the future of technology. Collaborative Environment : We foster a collaborative and inclusive work culture where every team member's input is valued . Together, we create an environment that encourages learning and personal growth.

https://3d-labs.com/

[emsprovisions]

❄️ Day 16 - HR's Going to have Their Hands Full ❄️

🎁 Today's fic is dedicated to @welcometololaland!

Summary: an au where TK and Carlos are flirty coworkers at the holidays.

Word count: 822

Prompt inspired by "you're annoying me with your ugly sweaters" found here Also got a little help with dialogue from @ironheartwriter <3

24 Days of Tarlos Masterpost

“TK!” Carlos Reyes bursts into TK’s office with that usual disapproving frown marring his beautiful face, the one he always reserves just for TK. 

“Hey, Carlos,” TK’s tone is bored as he continues scrolling on his computer. 

“TK, you do realize I get dinged when you go on questionable sites on your company issued computer, right?” Carlos huffs, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“Oh,” TK tears his eyes away from the screen to glance up at Carlos. “So you only talk to me when I ding you?”

Carlos pinches the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses. “Oh my god, you’re going to get us both in trouble with HR.”

“Oh, I’m sure they’d have their hands full with me,” TK just grins. 

Carlos makes a noise that sounds a bit like a dying cat. “You know it’s still the beginning of December, right? You’re already annoying me with your obnoxious sweaters and the decorations in your office, must you annoy me by making my job harder too?”

“I didn’t know there was anything against spreading a little holiday cheer,” TK hums. “If Mary Anne can have a mini Christmas tree on her desk, I should be able to have my mini menorah. Plus, sometimes Hanukkah is this early you know…”

Carlos narrows his gaze at TK. “You really are trying to get me in trouble with HR aren’t you.”

“Not at all,” TK grins at Carlos coyly. “Maybe I’m just trying to get myself on your naughty list.”

Carlos’s face just turns bright red. “Strand!” 

“Something bothering you, Carlos?” TK raises his eyebrows. 

“Nope,” the cyber security analyst just turns on his heel and grumbles over his shoulder. “Just…stay off the questionable websites and get back to work…”

TK just laughs to himself as he watches Carlos scramble out of his office as fast as he can.

A few days later, TK finds himself in Carlos’s office. TK’s wearing another obnoxious holiday sweater, this one with a Christmas design formatted entirely out of binary code. Carlos glances up from his computer as TK enters and actually smirks at his sweater, shaking his head.

“They’re getting more ridiculous every day. Seriously, how many do you have?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” TK waggles his eyebrows. “Could you look this over for me? I’m trying to implement this code into the data to protect secure information, but I think I’m off somewhere.”

“You developers,” Carlos rolls his eyes, but there’s no bitterness in the action. “Let’s see what you did.”

TK hands over his laptop and stands over Carlos’s shoulder while he scans TK’s work. There’s a few minutes of silence and TK is so aware of how close he’s standing to Carlos. He can smell his musky cologne and his cedarwood shampoo and god does he smell good. TK’s had a crush on Carlos for months now, but they keep playing this game of cat and mouse that’s going absolutely nowhere. Plus, they work together, and TK’s pretty sure the man is very serious about his fear of HR.

“Here’s the problem,” Carlos says at last, his finger dragging along a line of code on TK’s screen. “I can fix it for you, it won’t take long.”

“Thanks,” TK says genuinely. 

“It’s nothing,” Carlos shakes his head, tossing more of that cedarwood scent towards TK with the bounce of his curls. 

TK could melt into him. 

He steps away instead, rounding Carlos’s desk and dropping into a chair while he waits for Carlos to correct his work. 

Carlos glances up at TK while he types. “You know, those cookies you put in the break room the other day were really good.”

“The white chocolate peppermint ones?” TK asks with a surprised smile. He didn’t realize Carlos had tried them, or realized that TK had brought them.

Carlos nods. “I recognized your handwriting on the note…Do you think you could share the recipe with me? I’m better at cooking than baking, but I think my mom would like them.”

“I can, but maybe I can do you one better…”

Carlos’s hands freeze over the keyboard as he looks up at TK. “Yeah?”

“I could make another batch just for your mom,” TK offers with a kind smile.

Carlos looks back at the computer, beginning to type again. “What if I made you dinner in exchange?”

“Dinner? Hmm, I don’t know, might be a little weird to bring my dinner to the office,” TK bites his lip to hold back his grin, trying to contain his excitement in case Carlos really is suggesting what TK thinks he’s suggesting.

“Good thing I was going to invite you over to eat said dinner at my place then,” Carlos looks back up at TK again with a tiny smile. “And maybe you could personally show me how to make those cookies instead…?”

“Are you asking me out on a date, Reyes?”

“I think I am, Strand.”

[quirkyaether]

Two wips I'll probably never finish

I dunno man I'm too lazy for this stuff

Nightmare is 42 and a drug dealer in this AU (his hair is naturally blonde but he dyed it) Killer is his assassin who works for Nightmare in exchange for shelter to get away from the police, and dust is his negotiator who works for him in exchange for free drugs, and Horror is his fixer who works for him in exchange of a place to stay and food to eat for pap and himself

Dream (his twin) is a police

Error is 23, when he was a child his father took his custody cuz momma Cq couldn't provide everything for 3 sons with big issues, hospital bills, home school, hospital, outfit, food, babysitter, child therapy, and other stuff with being an office employee. A few years later Error had an awful car accident, and lost his memory and no longer remembers his mom and brothers (but he'll eventually see them when he gets older) he also had to get face surgery because of the accident and the bleeding in the eye after the accident caused acquired heterochromia. When he gets older he'll work as a Cybersecurity Analyst (A cybersecurity analyst is responsible for protecting an organization's computer systems, networks, and data from security breaches, cyber threats, and anomalies.). he uses a pill named Fentanyl which is a a really strong and expensive painkiller drug (and that's how he meets Nightmare and others)

Fresh is 20 and Geno is 27

Error sans and Fresh sans belong to @loverofpiggies

Nightmare sans belong to @jokublog

[mariacallous]

United States intelligence officials have been quietly issuing warnings to government agencies all summer about a rising threat of extremist violence tied to the 2024 presidential election, including plots to destroy bins full of paper ballots and promote "lone wolf" attacks against election facilities throughout the country.

In a series of reports between July and September, analysts at the Department of Homeland Security warned of a “heightened risk” of extremists carrying out attacks in response to the race. Copies of the reports, first reported by WIRED, describe efforts by violent groups to provoke attacks against election infrastructure and spread calls for the assassinations of lawmakers and law enforcement agents.

Last month, the agency’s intelligence office emphasized in a report that “perceptions of voter fraud” had risen to become a primary “trigger” for the “mobilization to violence.” This is particularly true, the report says, among groups working to leverage the “concept of a potential civil war.” Fears about “crimes by migrants or minorities” are among other top “triggers,” it says.

The documents show that DHS alerted dozens of agencies this summer to online chatter indicating potential attacks on election drop boxes—secured receptacles used in more than 30 states to collect mail-in voter ballots. The text highlights the efforts of an unnamed group to crowdsource information about “incendiary and explosive materials” capable of destroying the boxes and ballots. An extensive list of household mixtures and solvents, which are said to render voter ballots “impossible to process,” was also compiled by members of the group, the report says, and openly shared online.

“The United States remains in a heightened, dynamic threat environment and we continue to share information with our law enforcement partners about the threats posed by domestic violent extremists in the context of the 2024 election,” a spokesperson from DHS tells WIRED. "Violence has no place in our politics, and DHS continues to work with our partners to evaluate and mitigate emerging threats that may arise from domestic or foreign actors. DHS, through CISA, is also helping  election officials and election infrastructure partners bolster resilience in their cyber, physical, and operational security.  The Department continues to advise federal, state, and local partners to remain vigilant to potential threats and encourages the public to report any suspicious activity to local authorities."

The FBI, which is on a distribution list for several of the reports, declined to comment.

The reports were first obtained by Property of the People, a nonprofit focused on transparency and national security, under open records law. The reports contain details about how to commit crimes and avoid law enforcement, which WIRED is not publishing.

Wendy Via, cofounder and president of the Global Project Against Hate and Extremism (GPAHE), says the conclusion reached by DHS matches the consensus of experts in the field: “Election denialism is going to be the primary motivator—if there is going to be violence.”

For decades, a growing number of states have adopted election drop boxes as a way to offer voters a dedicated, secure, and convenient way to submit voter ballots ahead of elections. Today, as many as 35 states allow drop boxes in some capacity, though a handful—nearly all southern—have outlawed their use, mostly over baseless claims about fraud and ballot stuffing. While drop boxes are no less secure than other forms of voting, Republicans have scrambled to block their use in key states, including Wisconsin, where Donald Trump blasted legislation expanding drop boxes as “only good for Democrats and cheating.” Via points to the Republican-led campaign aimed at banning and restricting access to election drop boxes in Wisconsin as a flash point for election denialism and possible violence.

The obsession with the otherwise mundane practice of dropping off ballots prior to election day stems in large part from the widely discredited film 2,000 Mules. The “documentary” depicts a shadowy network of operatives attempting to sway the 2020 election by stuffing ballots in Joe Biden’s favor; the film’s publisher, a conservative media company, has since issued an apology.

While the film’s evidence turned out to be false, it nevertheless provoked a surge of intimidation from far-right groups targeting drop-box voters and the officials defending their use. For the November election, some groups have committed to fundraising in order to surveil the boxes around the clock over public livestream. Others have hosted events near the locations to push conspiracy theories about immigrants. Election denial groups such as True the Vote, meanwhile, are working with myriad others across the country, as WIRED reported this summer, and are establishing a web of operations for waging legal warfare in the aftermath of the vote—if Trump fails to retake the White House a second time.

Spurious claims of voter fraud have remained a mainstay of the former president’s reelection efforts, with Trump preemptively and baselessly claiming that should he lose in November, the election will have been rigged. Claims that the 2020 presidential election was stolen have been exhaustively investigated and debunked by countless judges and state election officials across the country. Property of the People executive director Ryan Shapiro says that though DHS does not mention the political leanings of the subjects in its reports, he believes “the documents make plain that US intelligence is bracing for election- and immigration-related violence from Trump's MAGA minions.”

The concerns of DHS today are reminiscent of warnings shared by the agency two years ago during the midterm elections. Similar bulletins leaked then showing fears among federal security officials that extremists would mount an attack, threaten poll workers, or sabotage infrastructure. The concerns proved largely unwarranted, outside of scattered instances of armed men in paramilitary gear showing up to “monitor” ballot boxes across Arizona—an effort quietly spearheaded in part by True the Vote, which helped make 2,000 mules, involving militias that included the American Patriots Three Percent, an anti-government group.

The election threats flagged in the reports by DHS appear to be growing more extreme over time. No longer restricted to aggressive surveillance and loitering outside polling locations, the risks associated by DHS with election fraud conspiracies today more closely resemble traditional acts of terrorism.

There are, however, some deterrents. The arrests and prosecutions of rioters involved in the January 6 attack on the United States Capitol building are credited by DHS, as well as groups such as GPAHE, with stifling much of the enthusiasm that far-rights groups once held for turning out in big numbers.

“In my lifetime of working in civil rights, the January 6 arrests are the only time I’ve ever seen an arrest or prosecution work as a deterrent,” says Via. “They really do not want to go to jail.”