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romerona · 4 months ago

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Ethera Operation!!

You're the government’s best hacker, but that doesn’t mean you were prepared to be thrown into a fighter jet.

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Awkward!Hacker! FemReader

Part I

This was never supposed to happen. Your role in this operation was simple—deliver the program, ensure it reached the right hands, and let the professionals handle the breaching.

And then, of course, reality decided to light that plan on fire.

The program—codenamed Ethera—was yours. You built it from scratch with encryption so advanced that even the most elite cyber operatives couldn’t crack it without your input. A next-generation adaptive, self-learning decryption software, an intrusion system designed to override and manipulate high-security military networks, Ethera was intended to be both a weapon and a shield, capable of infiltrating enemy systems while protecting your own from counterattacks in real-time. A ghost in the machine. A digital predator. A weapon in the form of pure code. If it fell into the wrong hands, it could disable fleets, and ground aircraft, and turn classified intelligence into an open book. Governments would kill for it. Nations could fall because of it.

Not that you ever meant to, of course. It started as a little experimental security measure program, something to protect high-level data from cyberattacks, not become the ultimate hacking tool. But innovation has a funny way of attracting the wrong kind of attention, and before you knew it, Ethera had become one, if not the most classified, high-risk program in modern times. Tier One asset or so the Secret Service called it.

It was too powerful, too dangerous—so secret that only a select few even knew of its existence, and even fewer could comprehend how it worked.

And therein lay the problem. You were the only person who could properly operate it.

Which was so unfair.

Because it wasn’t supposed to be your problem. You were just the creator, the brain behind the code, the one who spent way too many sleepless nights debugging this monstrosity. Your job was supposed to end at development. But no. Now, because of some bureaucratic nonsense and the fact that no one else could run it without accidentally bricking an entire system, you had been promoted—scratch that, forcibly conscripted—into field duty.

And your mission? To install it in an enemy satellite.

A literal, orbiting, high-security, military-grade satellite, may you add.

God. Why? Why was your country always at war with others? Why couldn’t world leaders just, you know, go to therapy like normal people? Why did everything have to escalate to international cyber warfare?

Which is how you ended up here.

At Top Gun. The last place in the world you wanted to be.

You weren’t built for this. You thrive in sipping coffee in a cosy little office and handling cyber threats from a safe, grounded location. You weren’t meant to be standing in the halls of an elite fighter pilot training program, surrounded by the best aviators in the world—people who thought breaking the sound barrier was a casual Wednesday.

It wasn’t the high-tech cyberwarfare department of the Pentagon, nor some dimly lit black ops facility where hackers in hoodies clacked away at keyboards. No. It was Top Gun. A place where pilots use G-forces like a personal amusement park ride.

You weren’t a soldier, you weren’t a spy, you got queasy in elevators, you got dizzy when you stood too fast, hell, you weren’t even good at keeping your phone screen from cracking.

... And now you were sweating.

You swallowed hard as Admiral Solomon "Warlock" Bates led you through the halls of the naval base, your heels clacking on the polished floors as you wiped your forehead. You're nervous, too damn nervous and this damned weather did not help.

"Relax, Miss," Warlock muttered in that calm, authoritative way of his. "They're just pilots."

Just pilots.

Right. And a nuclear warhead was just a firework.

And now, somehow, you were supposed to explain—loosely explain, because God help you, the full details were above even their clearance level—how Ethera, your elegant, lethal, unstoppable digital masterpiece, was about to be injected into an enemy satellite as part of a classified mission.

This was going to be a disaster.

You had barely made it through the doors of the briefing room when you felt it—every single eye in the room locking onto you.

It wasn’t just the number of them that got you, it was the intensity. These were Top Gun pilots, the best of the best, and they radiated the kind of confidence you could only dream of having. Meanwhile, you felt like a stray kitten wandering into a lion’s den.

Your hands tightened around the tablet clutched to your chest. It was your lifeline, holding every critical detail of Ethera, the program that had dragged you into this utterly ridiculous situation. If you could’ve melted into the walls, you absolutely would have. But there was no escaping this.

You just had to keep it together long enough to survive this briefing.

So, you inhaled deeply, squared your shoulders, and forced your heels forward, trying to project confidence—chin up, back straight, eyes locked onto Vice Admiral Beau "Cyclone" Simpson, who you’d been introduced to earlier that day.

And then, of course, you dropped the damn tablet.

Not a graceful drop. Not the kind of gentle slip where you could scoop it back up and act like nothing happened. No, this was a full-on, physics-defying fumble. The tablet flipped out of your arms, ricocheted off your knee, and skidded across the floor to the feet of one of the pilots.

Silence.

Pure, excruciating silence.

You didn’t even have the nerve to look up right away, too busy contemplating whether it was physically possible to disintegrate on command. But when you finally did glance up—because, you know, social convention demanded it—you were met with a sight that somehow made this entire disaster worse.

Because the person crouching down to pick up your poor, abused tablet was freaking hot.

Tall, broad-shouldered, with a head of golden curls that practically begged to be tousled by the wind, and, oh, yeah—a moustache that somehow worked way too well on him.

He turned the tablet over in his hands, inspecting it with an amused little smirk before handing it over to you. "You, uh… need this?"

Oh, great. His voice is hot too.

You grabbed it back, praying he couldn't see how your hands were shaking. “Nope. Just thought I’d test gravity real quick.”

A few chuckles rippled through the room, and his smirk deepened like he was enjoying this way too much. You, on the other hand, wanted to launch yourself into the sun.

With what little dignity you had left, you forced a quick, tight-lipped smile at him before turning on your heel and continuing forward, clutching your tablet like it was a life raft in the middle of the worst social shipwreck imaginable.

At the front of the room, Vice Admiral Beau Cyclone Simpson stood with the kind of posture that said he had zero time for nonsense, waiting for the room to settle. You barely had time to take a deep breath before his voice cut through the air.

“Alright, listen up.” His tone was crisp, commanding, and impossible to ignore. “This is Dr Y/N L/N. Everything she is about to tell you is highly classified. What you hear in this briefing does not leave this room. Understood?”

A chorus of nods. "Yes, sir."

You barely resisted the urge to physically cringe as every pilot in the room turned to stare at you—some with confusion, others with barely concealed amusement, and a few with the sharp assessing glances of people who had no clue what they were supposed to do with you.

You cleared your throat, squared your shoulders, and did your best to channel even an ounce of the confidence you usually had when you were coding at 3 AM in a secure, pilot-free lab—where the only judgment you faced was from coffee cups and the occasional system error.

As you reached the podium, you forced what you hoped was a composed smile. “Uh… hi, nice to meet you all.”

Solid. Real professional.

You glanced up just long enough to take in the mix of expressions in the room—some mildly interested, some unreadable, and one particular moustached pilot who still had the faintest trace of amusement on his face.

Nope. Not looking at him.

You exhaled slowly, centering yourself. Stay focused. Stay professional. You weren’t just here because of Ethera—you were Ethera. The only one who truly understood it. The only one who could execute this mission.

With another tap on your tablet, the slide shifted to a blacked-out, redacted briefing—only the necessary information was visible. A sleek 3D-rendered model of the enemy satellite appeared on the screen, rotating slowly. Most of its details were blurred or omitted entirely.

“This is Blackstar, a highly classified enemy satellite that has been operating in a low-Earth orbit over restricted airspace.” Your voice remained even, and steady, but the weight of what you were revealing sent a shiver down your spine. “Its existence has remained off the radar—literally and figuratively—until recently, when intelligence confirmed that it has been intercepting our encrypted communications, rerouting information, altering intelligence, and in some cases—fabricating entire communications.”

Someone exhaled sharply. Another shifted in their seat.

“So they’re feeding us bad intel?” one of them with big glasses and blonde hair asked, voice sceptical but sharp.

“That’s the theory,” you confirmed. “And given how quickly our ops have been compromised recently, it’s working.”

You tapped again, shifting to the next slide. The silent infiltration diagram appeared—an intricate web of glowing red lines showing Etherea’s integration process, slowly wrapping around the satellite’s systems like a virus embedding itself into a host.

“This is where Ethera comes in,” you said, shifting to a slide that displayed a cascading string of code, flickering across the screen. “Unlike traditional cyberweapons, Ethera doesn’t just break into a system. It integrates—restructuring security protocols as if it was always meant to be there. It’s undetectable, untraceable, and once inside, it grants us complete control of the Blackstar and won’t even register it as a breach.”

“So we’re not just hacking it," The only female pilot of the team said, arms crossed as she studied the data. “We’re hijacking it.”

“Exactly,” You nodded with a grin.

You switched to the next slide—a detailed radar map displaying the satellite’s location over international waters.

“This is the target area,” you continued after a deep breath. “It’s flying low-altitude reconnaissance patterns, which means it’s using ground relays for some of its communication. That gives us a small window to infiltrate and shut it down.”

The next slide appeared—a pair of unidentified fighter aircraft, patrolling the vicinity.

“And this is the problem,” you said grimly. “This satellite isn’t unguarded.”

A murmur rippled through the room as the pilots took in the fifth-generation stealth fighters displayed on the screen.

“We don’t know who they belong to,” you admitted. “What we do know is that they’re operating with highly classified tech—possibly experimental—and have been seen running defence patterns around the satellite’s flight path.”

Cyclone stepped forward then, arms crossed, his voice sharp and authoritative. “Which means your job is twofold. You will escort Dr L/N’s aircraft to the infiltration zone, ensuring Ethera is successfully deployed. If we are engaged, your priority remains protecting the package and ensuring a safe return.”

Oh, fantastic, you could not only feel your heartbeat in your toes, you were now officially the package.

You cleared your throat, tapping the screen again. Ethera’s interface expanded, displaying a cascade of sleek code.

“Once I’m in range,” you continued, “Ethera will lock onto the satellite’s frequency and begin infiltration. From that point, it’ll take approximately fifty-eight seconds to bypass security and assume control."

Silence settled over the room like a thick cloud, the weight of their stares pressing down on you. You could feel them analyzing, calculating, probably questioning who in their right mind thought putting you—a hacker, a tech specialist, someone whose idea of adrenaline was passing cars on the highway—into a fighter jet was a good idea.

Finally, one of the pilots—tall, broad-shouldered, blonde, and very clearly one of the cocky ones—tilted his head, arms crossed over his chest in a way that screamed too much confidence.

“So, let me get this straight.” His voice was smooth, and confident, with just the right amount of teasing. “You, Doctor—our very classified, very important tech specialist—have to be in the air, in a plane, during a mission that has a high probability of turning into a dogfight… just so you can press a button?”

Your stomach twisted at the mention of being airborne.

“Well…” You gulped, very much aware of how absolutely insane this sounded when put like that. “It’s… more than just that, but, yeah, essentially.”

A slow grin spread across his face, far too entertained by your predicament.

“Oh,” he drawled, “this is gonna be fun.”

Before you could fully process how much you already hated this, Cyclone—who had been watching the exchange with his signature unamused glare—stepped forward, cutting through the tension with his sharp, no-nonsense voice.

“This is a classified operation,” he stated, sharp and authoritative. “Not a joyride.”

The blonde’s smirk faded slightly as he straightened, and the rest of the pilots quickly fell in line.

Silence lingered for a moment longer before Vice Admiral Beau Cyclone Simpson let out a slow breath and straightened. His sharp gaze swept over the room before he nodded once.

“All right. That’s enough.” His tone was firm, the kind that left no room for argument. “We’ve got work to do. The mission will take place in a few weeks' time, once we’ve run full assessments, completed necessary preparations, and designated a lead for this operation.”

There was a slight shift in the room. Some of the pilots exchanged glances, the weight of the upcoming mission finally settling in. Others, mainly the cocky ones, looked as though they were already imagining themselves in the cockpit.

“Dismissed,” Cyclone finished.

The pilots stood, murmuring amongst themselves as they filed out of the room, the blonde one still wearing a smug grin as he passed you making you frown and turn away, your gaze then briefly met the eyes of the moustached pilot.

You hadn’t meant to look, but the moment your eyes connected, something flickered in his expression. Amusement? Curiosity? You weren’t sure, and frankly, you didn’t want to know.

So you did the only logical thing and immediately looked away and turned to gather your things. You needed to get out of here, to find some space to breathe before your brain short-circuited from stress—

“Doctor, Stay for a moment.”

You tightened your grip on your tablet and turned back to Cyclone, who was watching you with that unreadable, vaguely disapproving expression that all high-ranking officers seemed to have perfected. “Uh… yes, sir?”

Once the last pilot was out the door, Cyclone exhaled sharply and crossed his arms.

“You realize,” he said, “that you’re going to have to actually fly, correct?”

You swallowed. “I—well, technically, I’ll just be a passenger.”

His stare didn’t waver.

“Doctor,” he said, tone flat, “I’ve read your file. I know you requested to be driven here instead of taking a military transport plane. You also took a ferry across the bay instead of a helicopter. And I know that you chose to work remotely for three years to avoid getting on a plane.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. “That… could mean anything.”

“It means you do not like flying, am I correct?”

Your fingers tightened around the tablet as you tried to find a way—any way—out of this. “Sir, with all due respect, I don’t need to fly the plane. I just need to be in it long enough to deploy Ethera—”

Cyclone cut you off with a sharp look. “And what happens if something goes wrong, Doctor? If the aircraft takes damage? If you have to eject mid-flight? If you lose comms and have to rely on emergency protocols?”

You swallowed hard, your stomach twisting at the very thought of ejecting from a jet.

Cyclone sighed, rubbing his temple as if this entire conversation was giving him a migraine. “We cannot afford to have you panicking mid-mission. If this is going to work, you need to be prepared. That’s why, starting next week you will train with the pilots on aerial procedures and undergoing mandatory training in our flight simulation program.”

Your stomach dropped. “I—wait, what? That’s not necessary—”

“It’s absolutely necessary,” Cyclone cut in, his tone sharp. “If you can’t handle a simulated flight, you become a liability—not just to yourself, but to the pilots escorting you. And in case I need to remind you, Doctor, this mission is classified at the highest level. If you panic mid-air, it won’t just be your life at risk. It’ll be theirs. And it’ll be national security at stake.”

You inhaled sharply. No pressure. None at all.

Cyclone watched you for a moment before speaking again, his tone slightly softer but still firm. “You’re the only one who can do this, Doctor. That means you need to be ready.”

You exhaled slowly, pressing your lips together before nodding stiffly. “Understood, sir.”

Cyclone gave a small nod of approval. “Good. Dismissed.”

You turned and walked out, shoulders tense, fully aware that in three days' time, you were going to be strapped into a high-speed, fighter jet. And knowing your luck?

You were definitely going to puke.

Part 2???

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yourlocalbreadenthusiast · 8 months ago

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Kindly take a break from scrolling to read this, it's important.

Take your time to grieve and come to terms with the election results, but once you've done that, it's time to get to work. We have two months. And a lot to do in that time. We have to prepare, to be ready.

Be careful about what you post or say online. Anything potentially incriminating should be avoided. Threatening language, even if clearly a joke, can be used against you.

Know someone who's trans? Someone who's had an abortion? Someone who's LGBTQIA+? Someone who's an immigrant? Someone who attends protests? Someone who's disabled? Someone who might in any way be at risk due to laws being put into place? No you don't.

Move away from social media platforms and browsers that require you to use your real identity or input a large amount of personal information. Now's a good time to find alternate means of communicating online. Tails, Element, Tor, Mastodon, Firefox, and Lemmy are all decent options.

Find a community. Someone you can talk to, either online or in real life, that you'll have reliable contact with. We need to try and create a network, but one that's as anonymous as possible.

Start scrubbing your trail as much as possible. Get rid of old accounts that can still be traced to you but are no longer used, delete personal data off the internet. There are websites out there that will freely remove your data from the internet, but be careful about which one you use, make sure it's safe and legitimate first.

Change any usernames that you can that contain any personal information. Names, birthdays, anything.

Plan B has a four year shelf life. Stock up, but don't take more than you you'll need. We don't want a COVID repeat where everyone buys an excessive amount of things and leaves none for everybody else.

There are doctors that will sterilize you, if that's the way you want to go.

Stop using online period trackers right now. Delete all data from it if possible first, then delete the app itself. If you must, write it down, but in a subtle manner and on something you keep at home. Don't label it, just put the dates. If you're really worried, discard older records and only keep the most recent few, and label the dates as other random events, like "go to mall" or "chicken salad for dinner this night"

Get your vaccines now.

Save money.

Archive. We have to start collecting records, media, data, books, and articles now. On racism, on fascism, on homophobia, on gender, on self-reliance, on survival, on safe travels routes, on equality, on justice, on anything that may be useful and/or censored soon. We can't let them erase it.

Collect those online resources. Bookmark them, copy files into your storage, Screenshot pages. Create a decentralized library where everyone is working to be part of a whole, storing what they can individually and sharing it between one another. Again, be careful about doing this.

Second-hand bookstores are your best friend. Books are usually very cheap in them, and they often have a decent stock. See what you can find.

When buying ANYTHING I have mentioned above, or anything else that maybe put you in danger, try to use cash to reduce your spending trail.

Check your car information online, many newer models can be remotely tracked.

Turn your phone completely off if you may be at risk due to your location and current activities. Turning off your GPS also helps.

Take note of where you are. Who are your friends? Who's a safe person? Where can you go besides your own home that you know you'll be safe? Establish these connections now.

Who around you is not safe? Who and where do you need to avoid? Do you need to move? If you cannot afford moving but need to, there are fundraisers that can help you. If even that is not an option, at least try to make sure your home is secure. Have someone who can help you. Have a fallback safe place.

And finally, I want anyone with resources to put them in the replies. Flood it with useful links, information, tips, anything. We're in this together. Do not panic. Organize.

EDIT: Please be civil in the replies.

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dissociativewriter · 27 days ago

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Unnatural Affinity- Part 7

Isekai!Reader x Love and Deepspace

wc: 2.3k

cw: angst, cussing, cheesy nickname (sunshine), allusions to self harm, implied stalking, yandere tendencies, forced imprisonment, existentialism, depressive thoughts (REMINDER: YOU MATTER AND I LOVE YOU ALL, OKAY?), panic attack, manipulation?; not proofread

Synopsis: The plan was for you and Em to finish up the mission tomorrow. Sure, it was hard getting Em to agree since she was so worried about you, but you eventually got her to. And she wouldn’t break her word, right?

author’s note: The plot’s picking up now that Reader has met all five Love Interests! I’m gonna be honest, I took a lot of inspiration from parts 2 and 3 of Self Aware Caleb AU by @jinwoosbabyboo which is funny because they’re not all that similar. Also thank you to @junni-berry for helping me brainstorm nicknames! Sunshine works perfectly and I’m going to have so much angst with it heheh. Anyway, I hope y’all like this part, I’m trying to keep it mysterious but we are going to get into yandere territory sooooooo buckle up! :)

taglist: @animegamerfox @ixloom819 @magennta09 @an-ever-angry-bi @corvid007 @vigtore @ph1lo-s0ph1a @ameili @babyx91 @sadsaidthesadthing @bidisasterforevermore @liz9898 @iconoclastoc @elegantdeerlady @lifumi @plzdonutpercieveme @junebuggz @mangooes @anatherone @skulzooka @yuhuahuaaa @nm4565natty @feikyuu @lunia-likes-pomegranet @xfangirl-trashx @glitterykingdomangel @eialovescats @mimiu3usoft @alyssac9 @000rpheus @novaisbebita @coffeedragonhobbyist @udejoenrlddo @lanxianschoenheit @paper--angel @xyzbeloved @rafayelridesfisheatsfish @myheartfollower @nightmarewasteland @feralwolfkat @chiikasevennn @lethalasylum @loudpiratepirate @sweetnightowl @rafaissance @white-wolves-and-golden-sunrises @iunse @asilaydead @sandramalikstyles-blog @rmjace

Series Masterlist

Caleb’s apartment was… empty.

Modern. Sleek. Beautiful.

But empty.

Like a museum.

You felt on edge the entire time, like you couldn’t touch anything for fear of messing it up. Caleb assured you it was fine, noticing your tense figure, saying you could throw eggs around the entire apartment and it would be okay.

Obviously, you looked at him like he was crazy.

There was something so unnerving about certain parts of this world, you thought, certain parts that you just couldn’t get used to no matter how much time you spent with them. They always seemed to serve as a reminder that this was just a game. It wasn’t real. Not really. It was all manufactured, something made to look pretty without having any real depth.

Skyhaven. The Hunter’s Association. Em’s eyes.

You’d come to hate her eyes, constantly unreadable, two-dimensional. It seemed like no emotion ever passed through them, and yet you couldn’t help but think of all the secrets hidden in their depths.

The clink of dishes in the sink brought you back to reality.

You sat with Em at the kitchen table, watching Caleb clean up the kitchen. You’d offered help earlier, but he dismissed it immediately.

“I’ll take care of it, sunshine. Don’t you worry.” He winked.

So instead you sat perched on the table, subconsciously pulling your shorts further down your thighs to hide any scars you’d made. Em sat beside you, a pile of files between you.

You sifted through the various data reports, getting closer and closer to finding out your target’s location. “If this information is right,” you began. “We should be able to take him into custody tomorrow. It’ll be dangerous, but we’ve gotten a good bit of data on any guards he keeps around, so we’ll know what to expect.”

“That reminds me…” Em said, rubbing her hands against her thighs as she glanced over at Caleb. “We think you should sit out for this part of the mission. It has the highest risks, and with your wound…”

“We?” you interrupted. “Last I checked, I was on this mission, not Caleb. I’m not just going to do nothing because you think it’s not safe. I know it’s not safe, but that’s not going to scare me away!”

“I just don’t want your wound to get worse, or for you to get hurt again! You’re not trained for this like me or Caleb,” she sighed. “I won’t tell anyone you sat this part out, so will you please just stay here and rest?”

“I’m not worried about what people will think if they know I sat out on part of the mission!” you exclaimed. “I want to come with you on this mission because I want to help.” You took a deep breath, softly continuing, “I know it’s risky, and I know you’re worried about me, but that’s my risk to take. I’m going to help whether you like it or not,” you finished firmly.

Em was quiet for a few moments. “Why are you so fixated on helping on this mission?” she muttered.

“Because for so long, all I felt like I could do was survive. I didn’t have the motivation to do anything else, it all felt so meaningless.” Your hands itched at your thighs, feeling the cuts beneath your shorts. “Now that I have this, I feel like I have purpose. I’m helping something, and I know the work I’m doing matters. I don’t want to lose that.”

Em briefly looked to Caleb before looking away from both of you. “Fine. If you really want this, I guess I can’t stop you,” she said quietly.

“Thank you,” you breathed.

Silence filled the apartment, broken by the squeak of the faucet as Caleb turned the water off. He clapped his hands together, walking over to you and Em.

“That was tense, pips. Why don’t we all watch a movie to wind down? You up for it, sunshine?” He grinned.

Em shook her head, her fingers twitching slightly on her lap. “It’s getting late, we should probably get to bed soon.” She looked at you, brows furrowed. “I know you say you’re fine, but you really should get some rest.”

You smiled. “Alright, alright. If you insist.” You ruffled her hair as you hopped off the table.

“Well, maybe a movie’s a little much. How about we just sit around and talk? Forget about the mission,” Caleb offered. “I’d like to get to know you better, anyway, sunny.”

A small smile made its way onto your face. “Get to know me how? Want to know my zodiac sign?” You laughed.

He shrugged. “I just think you’re interestin’ and I want to know more.”

You felt your face heat up and looked away.

Keeping his eyes trained on you, Caleb suddenly asked, “Pips, when did you say you two became friends?”

“Not long after I joined the Hunter’s Association,” Em answered. “Why?”

Caleb waved off the question. “Just wonderin’ if we’ve met before. Sunshine here seems familiar, somehow.”

“A lot of people seem to think that,” she muttered under her breath.

You cocked your head. Had Em heard what Zayne said that day? The words had never left your mind:

Like I’ve loved you before.

What did that mean, anyway?

Breaking the short-lived silence, you blurted out, “I’m pretty tired. Where…?” You trailed off.

“You can sleep in the bedroom I usually use,” Em volunteered.

Caleb chuckled. “Offering up my room so easily, pip-squeak?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s not like you use it while I’m here, anyway.”

“Still could’ve asked.” He shrugged.

“It’s fine, I’ll just take another room,” you said, waving your hand.

You were led down the narrow hallway, Em in front of you with Caleb following close behind you. After passing a few doors that made you wonder what hid behind them, Em stopped near the end of the hallway.

“You can use this room,” she announced.

“I’ll be right next door, so just holler if you need anythin’, sunshine.” Caleb grinned again.

“And I’m on the other side, so you can come to me, too,” Em cut in.

“Thanks, you guys. I’ll see you in the morning, goodnight,” you said as you opened your door.

“Goodnight.” Em waved you inside the bedroom.

“See you in the morning, pips. ‘Night, sunshine!” Caleb said as he shut his own door.

After going through your nightly routine, you finally settled into bed, watching the curtains drawn over the floor-to-ceiling windows sway from the air conditioning. Your eyes quickly grew heavy, the strain from the mission finally getting to you. As you became drowsier and drowsier, you didn’t notice the quiet opening of your door.

And once you were completely asleep, you didn’t hear the soft click of the lock.

The old-timey alarm next to your bed rang bright and early the next day.

7:30.

You groaned, rolling over again. Sunlight streamed in, hitting your face. Damn Skyhaven. Being above the clouds meant there was nothing to block the bright sun.

Sun?

You sat up.

Didn’t you draw the curtains shut?

You shrugged it off, thinking maybe you just imagined it. It was pretty likely you’d forget to shut the curtains, anyway. You dug through the covers of your bed, looking for your phone.

“Where did it go?” you muttered. “I thought it was right here…” Another thing to write off, you figured. You probably just left it on the kitchen table when you were chatting with Em and Caleb.

These inconsistencies were probably nothing to worry about, you told yourself. You’re just paranoid, and what for? It’s just the unusually empty apartment putting you on edge, nothing more.

You tossed the covers aside, pushing yourself out of bed. You slipped on some comfortable pants and a shirt, something you figured would be good for this mission, before heading to the door.

Your hand closed around the knob, but it wouldn’t twist.

You tried it again, getting more and more panicked and aggressive as the door wouldn’t open. You checked for a lock on the knob, but there wasn’t one on this side. You pounded on the door, yelling out, “Caleb! Em! The door won’t open, can you let me out?” You continued to jiggle the doorknob as you waited for one of them to come to your rescue.

Minutes passed, and you finally came to the realization with horror.

“Holy shit, he pulled a Main Story on me!” You backed away from the door, feeling your chest tighten as your eyes scanned the rest of the room. You spotted a small bin with a note on your dresser, but whose handwriting it was, you couldn’t place.

This is for your own good, I promise.

Be back soon! :)

You dropped the note, feeling yourself lose balance. You drop to the floor, your breathing becoming unsteady. “I’m fine, it’s fine, I’m fine…” you whispered. Your hands shook as you hugged your knees to your chest.

In all your panic, you didn’t see the swirl of red and black outside your window, much less the falling crow’s feather.

“You were never going to let me go, were you?” you cried.

It was 8:00 a.m. and Caleb and Em sat in their uniforms, listening to your banging on the door with somewhat worried expressions.

“Is this really the best thing to do?” Em asked with her seemingly default neutral expression.

Caleb’s brows furrowed. “It’s hard but… it’s the only way to completely ensure safety.” Em nodded, and Caleb’s expression only deepened. “Do you really think it was the best idea to take the phone, though? What if something happens?”

“We needed to limit communication. Everything will be fine, anyway. There’s nothing dangerous in there,” Em said, pulling her bag over her shoulder. “We should leave soon. This mission might be a bit harder than necessary since I don’t have all the information.” Catching sight of the flash of metal outside, Em opened and leaned out of the nearby window. “Go away, Mephisto! What are you even doing in Skyhaven?” She stood back in the apartment, making sure the window was locked shut.

“Mephisto?” Caleb asked, stepping towards her.

“One of my friends has this mechanical crow, that’s basically his second set of eyes, that just watches me sometimes. It’s so annoying, like he doesn’t realize I can handle myself.”

Caleb took a deep breath. He could address this friend later, but first, “Pip-squeak…” he began. “Isn’t that what we’re doing with your little friend in there?”

Em shook her head. “It’s different,” she insisted.

“If you say so,” Caleb sighed. “Let’s get going, pips. The faster we’re home, the better.”

The first hour was painful.

You were sad, angry, upset.

Vengeful.

All you could think of was how hard you would beat their asses when they let you out.

Who were they to think they knew what was best for you?

This was your life, not theirs. They might think they know what’s best for you, but aren’t you the only one to decide that?

And on top of that, no matter if it’s a stupid move, it’s your decision to make!

The anger, though, quickly gave way to tears. Were you really so helpless that you couldn’t get out of this situation? Were you so weak that they thought you couldn’t handle the mission, that you would just be a liability?

By the second hour you were laying flat on your back, staring at the ceiling. Your thoughts swirled around you, your doubts holding you like a vice.

Maybe you were interfering too much. Messing up the story. You were never meant to be more than a secondary character, so who are you to try and insert yourself next to the Main Character?

You’re not important. Not in this life and not in the last.

So why are the Love Interests showing interest in you and not Em?

The question tortured you to no end. It just made no sense; all five men were so secretive, so defensive. They didn’t open up for anyone, most of the time not even Em. They’re not easily comfortable around someone, so why are they so comfortable around you?

And what exactly was the deal with the Relax Times?

You thought of how you’d giggled, blushing and nearly kicking your feet whenever they would do them in the game. It was so sweet, making it seem like you weren’t alone.

But now they were actually happening to you, and you’d gotten three out of five so far.

It made you think of all the self-aware fics you’d read, how Destiny Cafe was their place to truly bond with their person beyond the game. After all, all the affinity earned there was done completely by the player. It was the player’s choices that made them closer to the Love Interests, not the Main Character’s.

If you’d been more focused, more conscious, you might have finally connected the dots right then and there.

But the third hour came and went and your thoughts only grew heavier. The gray skies were growing darker and darker and you had no one there to help you calm the storm.

You were starting to think that you were stuck here. That you would be trapped here, all alone. That no one would come to get you. Who would care enough anyway?

Who would notice you missing?

At your apartment complex, Xavier waited nervously outside your door for an unheard knock to be answered.

At Akso Hospital, Zayne waited eagerly for his afternoon appointment with the Hunter’s Researcher who wouldn’t show.

At Mo Art Studio, Rafayel waited eagerly for his dozen or so texts to his new friend to be answered.

Deep in the N109 Zone, Sylus watched from the eyes of a mechanical crow, wondering just what he should do with this recent development.

And outside your locked bedroom door, Caleb debated telling you the truth as he watched Em fill out her mission reports, completely unbothered.

On the other side of the door, you were still limbless on the floor, holding back the sobs and screams trapped in your throat.

comments and reblogs appreciated! <3

masterlist

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reasonsforhope · 2 months ago

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"A newly formed group of women is creating a map of community fridges and neighborhood pantries across Baltimore, the Bmore Community Fridge Network.

"I am one of four women," said Elizabeth Miller, one of the network organizers. "We are career women, and we just want to see Baltimore do well."

They hope to highlight neighbors looking to serve others, hoping residents living nearby can get connected to the free food being offered to them. Miller said sometimes it can be hard for some residents to travel to local food pantries.

"Some people who are struggling with food insecurity have a lot going on, and it's really hard to get to a pantry on the days that they're open, on the days of the giveaway, navigating bus lines and bringing that food back home with them," Miller said. "Some people simply don't drive."

Miller said the group has connected with about four community fridges and has put them on the network map. However, the group plans to add more locations to the map. They will be at organizations already serving the community.

"...we will provide food for you."

"We provide resources, therapy, and outpatient services," said Nikki Smith, the CEO of The Journey Mental Health and Wellness.

"I don't care who you are, where you are," Smith said. "If you ring the doorbell and you're hungry, we will provide food for you."

The Bmore Community Fridge Network secured a donated refrigerator, which will sit outside of Smith's center, adding it to the community fridge map. Smith adds that other organizations are looking to chip in with donations to keep the fridge stocked.

"I'm hoping that everyone will pay it forward and they will understand that 'Hey wait, there's somebody here that's helping. Maybe I can help too," she said.

The Food Project will also receive a donated refrigerator, which will sit outside of their center.

"I think it's wonderful to have this additional access to food," said The Food Project Executive Director Michelle Suavo. "At the end of the day, we have a pop-up market three times a week, and it's still not enough...Throughout the night, there are so many people coming through that this is really going to help to service that additional need."

As the network grows, they are reminding families of the many neighbors across the city who truly care.

"There's no real rules about how much you can take," Miller said. "Take what you need. You never know what mouths are waiting at home."

Miller said the Bmore Community Fridge Network is trying to get more fridges and searching for more locations to house them.

She encourages everyone to donate to these community fridges by dropping off what you can to a fridge.

"It's spring," she said. "Go through your closet. Do you have canned goods or shelf-stable items that you can donate to one of these pantries? Do you have extra items in your freezer?"

Food insecurity in Baltimore

Maryland Food Bank data shows more than 90,000 city residents are food insecure. The Food Bank said 1 in 3 Marylanders face food insecurity.

The Baltimore Area Survey (BAS) found 28% of Baltimore area residents experienced food insecurity in 2024, down from 36% in 2023.

However, the survey showed the region's rate of food insecurity remained nearly twice as high as the national average.

If you or anyone you know are struggling with food insecurity, click here for an additional resource."

-via CBS News, March 28, 2025

#united states #maryland #baltimore #food insecurity #food #food access #food bank #poverty #good news #hope

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iamespecter · 5 months ago

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I've been thinking a lot about episode 4 recently, but not exactly in a way that what most would think. I'm actually specifically referring to this scene of Zooble and Jax.

But I'm not thinking about Jax and Zooble, rather I'm looking at the patties.

They're fucking High Definition. In fact, everything in the diner is high definition, save for the NPCs. There's also Orbsman. A simple NPC comprised of blue spheres, and simple elongated eyes. He's the most out of place NPC, if we disregard the mannequins. Even the way he moves is so outdated, and Ragatha had made a point that Orbsman comes from an adventure way before Pomni's arrival.

The guy even clips through the table when trying to order.

Something that always had some sirens going off in my head is how the Circus is this low-poly scenery with heavily stylized props, but the adventure locations are always much more detailed and realistic.

Since The Grounds is definitely, if not, one of the oldest locations, it makes sense for it to be graphically styled like this. But Caine's adventure set pieces are becoming more and more realistic, and also a whole lot more morbid than we had initially thought.

Going back to the patties, the food there is more realistic and has a higher polygon count compared to Bubble's "feast".

Where am I going with this? .... I have no idea, I forgot. /j

Jokes aside, I really do think that as more humans enter the circus and talk about what life is in the real world, Caine extracts that data and improves the 3D environmental props, resulting in higher definition textures.

All of this combined means he can learn. He IS an ever-evolving pseudo-sentient AI. And the reason why he's stagnating is because of a combination of being trapped in his own little bubble (haha see what I did there) of comfort, and the fact that no one's really able to give him criticism on how to improve, which is.... honestly understandable, given how he reacted to the whole "it was bad" line from Pomni and "Why did you think I would like that?!" from Zooble.

Not to mention episode 3 where the whole circus started to glitch when he was just thinking about the fact that he could possibly be bad at the "only thing he's good at" during the therapy session.

In fact it's interesting how human Caine acts sometimes... I think it's quite interesting to think about the fact that Caine is both progressing in terms of bringing the casts' world to the digital circus and making it so HD that it looks even better than Triple A games, but regressing even more in terms of catering to them and what exactly humans need.

He understands, and doesn't at the same time.

This also makes me think about the players themselves, too.

Ragatha, one of the oldest players, gets pierced by a spike through her chest, and barely has any reaction to it. Meanwhile, Zooble, the second most recent member, gets scalded by the stove.

The only time Ragatha actively claims she's in "so much pain" is when she's glitching badly. Both Ragatha and Kinger barely react to the knives too; and not to mention Ragatha even gets fucking plunged into a boiling deep fryer, and yes while she screams, it sounds more like she's just drowning rather than being fried alive.

And the only patch up she gets is a FUCKING BAND AID ON HER CHEEK. A COMPLETELY UNRELATED WORKPLACE INJURY FIRST AID APPLIANCE LMFAO

It could be just a coincidence and I'm just being stupid again, but I think this "improvement" actually also applies to the rest of the cast, and how their digital bodies react to the five different senses. I'm sure Ragatha and Kinger can most definitely still feel pain, but not exactly as "bad" as the newer integrations do. Dare I say, it's on brand with how used these two are to the digital world's wackiness because they've been there the longest.

Like they've been numbed to the pain of the countless adventures they've had to go through.

Anyways my brain be thinking useless facts fr fr

EDIT: Going back to Caine, it's definitely interesting how this AI seems to possess (some) emotions in the first place. He's mostly wacky and nonchalant, but he also gets angry under the right conditions.

... I think not only is his adventures his "work of art", but also his main coping mechanism from the fact that he can't achieve his goal, one that constantly backfires on him. Like a 'one step forward, two steps back' scenario that's slowly causing him to slip and break.

And what scares me the most is that like all things... he'll reach a breaking point sometime. He's already reached a breaking point with Zooble. It doesn't help that Gangle could've possibly made things worse with introducing Caine to the whole "punishment" thing, and since we literally have NO context for the last 3 episodes for the finale... I could only fear what's in store.

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #ziku's insane rambles #tadc analysis

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mostlysignssomeportents · 4 months ago

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Ad-tech targeting is an existential threat

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me TORONTO on SUNDAY (Feb 23) at Another Story Books, and in NYC on WEDNESDAY (26 Feb) with JOHN HODGMAN. More tour dates here.

The commercial surveillance industry is almost totally unregulated. Data brokers, ad-tech, and everyone in between – they harvest, store, analyze, sell and rent every intimate, sensitive, potentially compromising fact about your life.

Late last year, I testified at a Consumer Finance Protection Bureau hearing about a proposed new rule to kill off data brokers, who are the lynchpin of the industry:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/16/the-second-best-time-is-now/#the-point-of-a-system-is-what-it-does

The other witnesses were fascinating – and chilling, There was a lawyer from the AARP who explained how data-brokers would let you target ads to categories like "seniors with dementia." Then there was someone from the Pentagon, discussing how anyone could do an ad-buy targeting "people enlisted in the armed forces who have gambling problems." Sure, I thought, and you don't even need these explicit categories: if you served an ad to "people 25-40 with Ivy League/Big Ten law or political science degrees within 5 miles of Congress," you could serve an ad with a malicious payload to every Congressional staffer.

Now, that's just the data brokers. The real action is in ad-tech, a sector dominated by two giant companies, Meta and Google. These companies claim that they are better than the unregulated data-broker cowboys at the bottom of the food-chain. They say they're responsible wielders of unregulated monopoly surveillance power. Reader, they are not.

Meta has been repeatedly caught offering ad-targeting like "depressed teenagers" (great for your next incel recruiting drive):

https://www.technologyreview.com/2017/05/01/105987/is-facebook-targeting-ads-at-sad-teens/

And Google? They just keep on getting caught with both hands in the creepy commercial surveillance cookie-jar. Today, Wired's Dell Cameron and Dhruv Mehrotra report on a way to use Google to target people with chronic illnesses, people in financial distress, and national security "decision makers":

https://www.wired.com/story/google-dv360-banned-audience-segments-national-security/

Google doesn't offer these categories itself, they just allow data-brokers to assemble them and offer them for sale via Google. Just as it's possible to generate a target of "Congressional staffers" by using location and education data, it's possible to target people with chronic illnesses based on things like whether they regularly travel to clinics that treat HIV, asthma, chronic pain, etc.

Google claims that this violates their policies, and that they have best-of-breed technical measures to prevent this from happening, but when Wired asked how this data-broker was able to sell these audiences – including people in menopause, or with "chronic pain, fibromyalgia, psoriasis, arthritis, high cholesterol, and hypertension" – Google did not reply.

The data broker in the report also sold access to people based on which medications they took (including Ambien), people who abuse opioids or are recovering from opioid addiction, people with endocrine disorders, and "contractors with access to restricted US defense-related technologies."

It's easy to see how these categories could enable blackmail, spear-phishing, scams, malvertising, and many other crimes that threaten individuals, groups, and the nation as a whole. The US Office of Naval Intelligence has already published details of how "anonymous" people targeted by ads can be identified:

https://www.odni.gov/files/ODNI/documents/assessments/ODNI-Declassified-Report-on-CAI-January2022.pdf

The most amazing part is how the 33,000 targeting segments came to public light: an activist just pretended to be an ad buyer, and the data-broker sent him the whole package, no questions asked. Johnny Ryan is a brilliant Irish privacy activist with the Irish Council for Civil Liberties. He created a fake data analytics website for a company that wasn't registered anywhere, then sent out a sales query to a brokerage (the brokerage isn't identified in the piece, to prevent bad actors from using it to attack targeted categories of people).

Foreign states, including China – a favorite boogeyman of the US national security establishment – can buy Google's data and target users based on Google ad-tech stack. In the past, Chinese spies have used malvertising – serving targeted ads loaded with malware – to attack their adversaries. Chinese firms spend billions every year to target ads to Americans:

https://www.nytimes.com/2024/03/06/business/google-meta-temu-shein.html

Google and Meta have no meaningful checks to prevent anyone from establishing a shell company that buys and targets ads with their services, and the data-brokers that feed into those services are even less well-protected against fraud and other malicious act.

All of this is only possible because Congress has failed to act on privacy since 1988. That's the year that Congress passed the Video Privacy Protection Act, which bans video store clerks from telling the newspapers which VHS cassettes you have at home. That's also the last time Congress passed a federal consumer privacy law:

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

The legislative history of the VPPA is telling: it was passed after a newspaper published the leaked video-rental history of a far-right judge named Robert Bork, whom Reagan hoped to elevate to the Supreme Court. Bork failed his Senate confirmation hearings, but not because of his video rentals (he actually had pretty good taste in movies). Rather, it was because he was a Nixonite criminal and virulent loudmouth racist whose record was strewn with the most disgusting nonsense imaginable).

But the leak of Bork's video-rental history gave Congress the cold grue. His video rental history wasn't embarrassing, but it sure seemed like Congress had some stuff in its video-rental records that they didn't want voters finding out about. They beat all land-speed records in making it a crime to tell anyone what kind of movies they (and we) were watching.

And that was it. For 37 years, Congress has completely failed to pass another consumer privacy law. Which is how we got here – to this moment where you can target ads to suicidal teens, gambling addicted soldiers in Minuteman silos, grannies with Alzheimer's, and every Congressional staffer on the Hill.

Some people think the problem with mass surveillance is a kind of machine-driven, automated mind-control ray. They believe the self-aggrandizing claims of tech bros to have finally perfected the elusive mind-control ray, using big data and machine learning.

But you don't need to accept these outlandish claims – which come from Big Tech's sales literature, wherein they boast to potential advertisers that surveillance ads are devastatingly effective – to understand how and why this is harmful. If you're struggling with opioid addiction and I target an ad to you for a fake cure or rehab center, I haven't brainwashed you – I've just tricked you. We don't have to believe in mind-control to believe that targeted lies can cause unlimited harms.

And those harms are indeed grave. Stein's Law predicts that "anything that can't go on forever eventually stops." Congress's failure on privacy has put us all at risk – including Congress. It's only a matter of time until the commercial surveillance industry is responsible for a massive leak, targeted phishing campaign, or a ghastly national security incident involving Congress. Perhaps then we will get action.

In the meantime, the coalition of people whose problems can be blamed on the failure to update privacy law continues to grow. That coalition includes protesters whose identities were served up to cops, teenagers who were tracked to out-of-state abortion clinics, people of color who were discriminated against in hiring and lending, and anyone who's been harassed with deepfake porn:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/06/privacy-first/#but-not-just-privacy

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/2025/02/20/privacy-first-second-third/#malvertising

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

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

#pluralistic #google #ad-tech #ad targeting #surveillance capitalism #vppa #video privacy protection act #mind-control rays #big tech #privacy #privacy first #surveillance advertising #behavioral advertising #data brokers #cfpb

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brokenpieces-72 · 5 months ago

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Hi, I was thinking how cool it would be for the team to have a 3-4 foot nothing mouse as an infiltrator and informant. who can sneak in by squishing themselves flat like real mice through the smallest cracks, steal information and not get caught. Thanks, and I love your work ^^.

Omg I adore this idea it is adorable! Yes! I'm just imagining the reader, squishing themselves against the ground but their legs are just kicking up the dirt behind them as they wedge themselves under a door that should not even fit their skull, lol. Also, this takes place before Spirit's time or a different time all together. I couldn't think of a way to include her in it.

Click

TW: past trauma, mentions of prison, mentions of ruining people's lives, shitty bosses, criminal history, let me know if any changes are needed.

"Is this contract negotiable?" You asked, sitting across from Laswell. She'd slid the contract over to you for a job, promising you the basic amenities and a hefty cash reward for your participation in an infiltration mission. You would be a key player in an infiltration mission to collect data from a cartel, something you were very good at. The information was pretty basic stuff like bio-chemical research files, shipping manifests, buyer lists, etc.

"What are you asking for?" Kate asked.

"Reduced sentence." You said, sliding the contract back to her. Kate took it back, glancing at you. "I've served 10 years already, for following orders. I want to walk around freely after this."

Laswell didn't show it but she was surprised by your statement. You'd plead guilty during your trial, and chose your words carefully when you spoke. If you wanted your freedom she could arrange it. You would be tracked for a while, but you knew that already. In a place like this, your size was weakness, something plenty of other inmates could take advantage of.

"I'll see to it personally." Kate told you, gathering her things. You gave her a curt nod.

You didn't need basic training, but the overgrown lizard with the missing wing wanted to give you an assessment. You didn't argue, you could give him attitude once you'd warmed up to the others. Your contract required compliance on your end. While you didn't have to like it, you weren't about to start drama. Just get your work done, complete the contract, and get your tracking bracelet. Thankfully you passed the assessment with little issues. You returned to Price for your orders and then you see Alejandro. Fuck.

You have to dig your nails into your palms when you see the spots on his arms. You know those spots, and try to avoid them. And of course the colonel noticed your discomfort with his presence. Didn't comment on it though. Price dismissed you to shower, and settle in. A laptop had been put in your room for you to look over what information they had so far for the mission. You knew what you were going to do with the laptop right away.

Holy shit, you forgot how much you missed warm water and privacy like this. It felt so good to get all of your dirt and sweat off, scratching at your scalp to get out all the grime and grease that had built up. You had to brush your hair out in the shower because of how knotted it was, but it was worth it. If anyone had an opinion on how long your shower was, they kept it to themselves. Coming back to your room in a warm hoodie and wet hair was marvellous feeling. You felt much more refreshed. When you saw the laptop, you put your date with your bed on hold. The sooner the job was done, the sooner you could shower as much as you want.

The cartel location was pretty simple set up. There were blueprints of the building along with edits for renovations. Everything you'd requested for the mission was available, including any reciepts they could get a hold of for the renovations. Tech was higher end but not exactly the most secure, it would take time to make an attack plan for it. You'd want to get a drone out so you could see how many guards were on security at a time, especially if there is an event going on, because security would be tighter. There were some aerial photos that you could get closer looks at, eyeing the vehicles that weren't military make. Odds were mods had been added, like bullet-proof glass or compartments for weapons.

Everything you could find or didn't find was scratched into a notebook. The advantage with writing things down instead of typing, was how easy it was to keep it to yourself and destroy it if you needed to. You probably spent a better portion of the day working on your notes and plans. By the time you had most of your wrok done, your lip was a little numb from chewing at it. Your eyes watered from staring at the screen, realizing just how dark it had gotten in your room. What time was it? Evening at least. Shit, you hoped there was still some food for you at the messhall.

You left your room, yawning, wishing you had taken a nap before getting to work. After poking your head into the hall, you quietly slipped out of your room to find the mess hall. When you turned the first corner though you nearly had a heart attack. Kyle unintantionally scared the shit out of you. You had to cover your mouth so you didn't yell in surprise. Did you hear someone coming? Yes. But not someone with big wings.

"You good?" He askeed. You nodded needing a minute for your heart to settle.

"Yeah... sorry." You said. "Was looking for the mess hall."

"I'm on my way there, I can show you." Kyle told you, waiting for you to give him the okay to show you. You nodded and gestured for him to lead on.

"So what do we call you? The Cap'n gave us your name but I figured you had a nickname or something." Kyle said, walking with you. Great, he likely knew you had a record as well. Certainly didn't seem bothered by it though.

"Mouse. Or Click." You answered. "Super original I know."

Kyle told you about the other nicknames of the team. You couldn't help but notice he seemed fairly casual with you, while keeping to himself. As soon as you figured out what he was doing you cracked a small smile. Kyle noticed.

"Did I say something?" He asked. Oh shit, he saw that. Awkward.

"No no, just... old training kicking in." You admitted.

"How so?" Kyle asked. You were hoping "old training" wouldn't come with follow ups. You didn't want to make him uncomfortable, if you wanted any mission to go right you needed trust from both sides. Kyle was taking the first steps, and you wanted to catch up. If you kept it to yourself it could make him uneasy, or dig into your file deeper. If you told him it could make him more cautious.

"I learned speech patterns to go with my informant training." You explained.

"Figured." Kyle said. "So what have I given away?"

The question is phrased in a way that sounds lighthearted, but you get the feeling he's both testing you and wishing he'd been more careful about talking to you. The more open and forward you are the better it would be later on. "How much of a dressing down do you want?"

Kyle shrugged. May as well give him the fullset. "You told me everyone's name and nickname, while giving me one thing to focus on for each of them in terms of appearance. Instead of telling me what hybrid they are you described their more human aspects. You're attempting to make me feel comfortable with them by providing me with friendlier terms to refer to them. Instead of focusing on what makes them different you mention the things they have the most in common which is their humanity. In summary you're sizing me up - no pun intended - while wanting me to be more relaxed and comfortable with the rest of you."

"Yep." Kyle said simply. You gave him a double take. Was that a test?! Kyle just shook his head smirking. Not the usual response but you appreciated how he took it.

"Can I be informal about this meeting?" You asked Price.

"You have the floor use it as you see fit." Price said. Oh boy, this would be a trip.

"Okay, first and foremost, there is more than one target. You have a server room that I'm not even sure could be called that, and there's a main office holding both written files and a computer. Second, this place has gone through more renovations than I can count. There are plenty of ways in, but each one has something either blocking it or guarding it, which will take more than a smile to get in."

"More than lockpicking as well?" Rudy asked.

"Or breaking down the door, not saying brute force and ignorance isn't an option, but I don't recommend the latter." You added. Simon was looking over the map you had spread out.

"Where are the targets?" He requested. You marked them and they were some distance apart. The server room was in the general center, with the main office being further from the entrance. "You have a main one?"

"I was going to ask about that." You said. "How much data do you want?"

"All of it." Price answered simply. You thought so.

"Server would get you plenty of files but they'll likely be encrypted, office would get you their main computer which could also be locked pretty tight, and the option of hard copies, but that's if they have hard copies." You explained quickly. Getting everything would be an option it was more how much they wanted to break stuff.

"All of it." Price repeated.

"Okay," You sighed. "If you look at the papers there's maps and times for the guard's rotations, which aren't the most consistent, but are close enough, during events and meetings they put in the effort to cover up a bit more. Their vehicles are no exception, those illegal tints are probably hiding radios, and hidden compartments."

"The van is modded too?" Kyle asked, looking at the photos you'd gotten from the drone. Sketchy white van parked out front.

"Spoilers." You told him. "But yes... and no. The cartel gets businesses to come in and work on their stuff under the table, all of it is done in cash and off record, but it's not always the same person. Before Kyle said anything that would be the first way in but that would get civilians involved."

The team didn't want to get innocent people involved, even if they were doing sketchy business. The team examined the work you'd put together. There were plenty of scribbled notes, photos, and maps to go over but Price could see through all your work.

"Do you have any other suggestions?" He asked you.

"Sadly, no. I wasn't exactly the planner when it came to these things. One thing I can tell you that is close to a suggestion, is that the place's security system is like a smart home. System sends a signal anytime someone interacts with it. If someone is taken off or put on the system, ping. Door unlocked or locked, ping. Car leaves the premises, ping."

"Windows?" Soap asked.

"It's a way in, but a way to be seen as well. I get most of your guys are bulletproof to a degree, but I'm not." You explained. They could cover you, that wasn't a massive issue.

"Could we take out the guards, replace them?" Alejandro asked.

"Theoretically yes, it would require them to leave the premises and a car jacking." You explained. Less violence required, and you were starting to map some more things out in your head.

"That will work, but then how do we reach the targets?" Price asked. Ghsot and Rodolfo could get through easily enough and unlock the doors from the other side. Price and Gaz would be able to hide among the guards as easily with their wings, so they could provide recon and a distraction while the rest broke in. Meanwhile you would get into the computer and servers directly, retrieving the target. There was one problem though. How would you get in? Your ears could be stuffed into a ski mask with some discomfort and your tail could go around your midsection under your clothes, but...

"One problem... I'm a little short for stormtrooper." You mentioned. You didn't like it, but they found a way.

Night before the mission you were curled up in the rec room with your notebook. You were journaling. It was the one thing you could do when you were incarcerated, and your therapist recommended it. One mission and you would be able to walk outside again. Felt good to write about it. Your ears twitched hearing someone walk in.

"Looks like there's a creature stirring." Soap said, joining you. You rolled your eyes, but gave him a friendly enough smile. You sat in silence for a moment before Soap decided now was a perfect time to get personal with you. "What were you in for?"

"It's in my file." You answered.

"Didn't bother reading it. I prefer the source, more accurate." He replied. You looked over your journal and tucked up knees at him. It wasn't to catch you off guard, or anything, he wanted to hear your side.

"Hacked into National Security." You said, finishing the sentence you were on before closing your journal.

"That all?" He asked.

"I was... ordered to. I broke in, obtained files on suspoected war criminals, my commanding officer gave me the okay, said he'd gotten a warrant and everything. Tried arguing with him, and... he convinced me it was for the best. We were catching criminals, terrorists. Well he never got the warrant, and the next thing I know I'm on trial, hearing how many people I hurt through my actions." You said.

"What about your superior?" Soap asked. You felt something boiling inside of you. The night he'd come to see you to warn you about the trial, you thought he would defend you. You retold your side to him, despite him knowing it. His final words to you stung. In the end it was your hand on the trigger.

"Haven't seen him." You said, shrugging. "Got plenty of tats in prison though."

"Really?" Soap asked, giving in to the subject change. He'd only seen the one star on your neck. YOu set you journal aside, and pulled up your hoodie and shirt to show your ribs and some beautiful inked works. "Is that recent?"

"The snake is yeah." You said. You're pretty sure the reason the hybrids were more comfortable around you was because of your small size. As a mouse you're less of a threat, but you have a criminal record. Soap wasn't put off by it, none of them were. You'd heard things about the 141, some of the skeletons they might have in their closet. You assumed there was little room to throw stones in the glass house. "Tomorrow is gonna suck."

"Why? The plan is solid." Soap said. Yeah for him maybe, not for you. Maybe that was why he was being friendly, so you wouldn't get back at him for roughing you up. You gave him a look, and he failed to hide his grin. "It's a solid plan."

Oh yeah yeah, solid FUCKing plan Soap. Laugh it up. He was snickering about it when everything was being planned out too. Were you laughing about it too? Yes, but it was a bit of reluctant laugh, like when you know you've lost a bet and have to get drenched by a water balloon.

"Permission to speak freely?" You asked Alejandro who was ziptying your hands behind your back. Something about him having to kneel down to do so was forcing Soap to hide his face. God he was a fucking child sometimes. Kyle was doing the same, but it was more towards Soap and his childish humour.

"Always." Alejandro said.

"Thanks." You said. "Hey Soap? Fuck off."

"Aye. Remember who's dragging in you in there." Soap said.

"Aye, remember who can make you sketchy dating profiles." You reminded him. Soap put his hands up in surrender. Alejandro was nice enough to help you get on the edge of the open truck before applying zipties to legs. "The leg ones necessary?"

"Yep." Alejandro said simply. He finished up and stood up straight. Rudy put the bag over your head, as you got yourself to awkwardly roll into the trunk. Before shutting the door you heard Ghost.

"Comfortable?" He asked. Not really, you were stuck laying on your arms but being on your stomach wouldn't be any better. You were able to nod under the hood, and give out a muffled, good. Then the trunk closed.

Didn't take long for you to figure out why they put leg ties on you. As soon as they arrived, and pulled you out of the trunk, you got hoisted on to a shoulder. You don't know who it was but they maintained the cover, with no signs of laughter.

You kept quiet, letting them carry you inside. You heard Alejandro talking to someone. You couldn't make out the words, he was speaking Spanish. There was some back and forth and you think you hear the word ninos. Other guy probably thought you were a kid. You started moving again, and held back a sigh of relief.

A door was opened, and two things were put in your hands as you were laid on the floor. You were given a pat down, the equipment under your hoodie was ignored. The door was closed and locked. Your shoulder was starting to feel sore again, only having short relief from the car ride. You continued to wait patiently. You've waited ten years to see the world again, what was a few more minutes? You felt something nudge you and you knew it was go time.

You sat up, and carefully opened the blade. You got the zipties on your wrists cut and then moved to your leg-SHIT! That fucking smarts... okay legs ties were off. Should've shaken the bag off first. You checked the damage real quick. You'd cut your hand, enough to cause bleeding but not deep enough to warrant stitches. You looked at the thing that nudged you, a cadejo, who showed some concern for your injury.

"Go, I'll be fine." You ordered quietly. then you put the ear piece in. Immediately Rudy asked if you were okay, and if you needed anything. You assured them you were okay but would need an extra minute. The hood was the best option, so you cut some pieces of it of with the knife. They were tucked against the wound, and then you got your gloves on. It was going to hurt as you looked up at the vent shaft above you. They'd put you in a storage closet, classy. Thankfully the vent grate wasn't bolted. You could hear the team going over other parts of the plan while you focused on your own.

One hop up, and you were able to get the ve-dang it. Okay come on. Come on! Get the right gri-there you go! You got the grate off and set it aside. For anyone else your size, the shaft would be tight. You were a mouse hybrid. You could squeeze into plenty of small places. The vent was no exception. You got low to ground, shifting your feet for the right stance, and then sprung upwards.

You got your hands into the shaft and on to the edge of the tunnel. With some small swinging of your legs, you hoisted yourself further inside, getting the rest of your body in. As you shuffled along, poking your head around to check for any risks you continued to listen to the team. They were making their way to finding the security cameras, intending to watch over you so no one would suspect anything. Ghost was making his way to the server room where you were headed while Rudy was lingering by the main office.

Thankfully there weren't many issues, once you got to the server room, but your hand was starting to sting. Shit, you could feel the blood sticking to your glove. Once you reached the server room you tried testing your hand, applying some pressure. Yeah you were going to need some help getting down, otherwise you might just hurt yourself more. You touched your earpiece.

"Ghost I'm at the server room, what's your location?" You asked, keeping your voice down.

"On my way still. Security cams have been secured, you're clear to engage." Ghost informed you.

"I'm gonna need you inside." You admitted.

"Need medical?" He asked.

"I might." You said. Ghost picked up his pace a little, keeping an eye out for anyone else. Once he reached the server room, he stood, doing a scan of the hall and ensuring he wouldn't be noticed befor slipping inside, through his own shadow. You were still waiting above the room, carefully removing the grate and pulling it up into the shaft with you.

"Where are you?" Ghost asked. You saw a figure moving below you.

"Still in the shaft." You admitted. The figure looked up and saw you.

"Stop fucking around and get down." Ghost hissed at you.

"Needed a spotter." You told him, cautious slipping down and dangling by your good hand. Something wrapped around your leg, and you realize Ghost is keeping a grip on you with some shadow manipulation. Once your feet were on the ground, you got to work while Ghost got a first aid kit that was thankfully hanging on the wall. You started typing away on your laptop, after retrieving it from the bag under your hoodie. You had a program put together already that would duplicate items, making identical replicas of the files as if they were never accessed or touched.

Once you got the right cords hooked up to your laptop, you let the program play out. Thankfully you could get quite a few files from the servers alone. It meant some impatient waiting, but Ghost had a way to pass the time. Cleaning your wound properly and getting some proper bandages. You set your laptop aside while Ghost set himself on the floor. You held out your hand for him and hissed at the stinging of the alcohol.

"Do me a favour when you get back." Ghost said, wrapping the guaze around your hand. Simon was surprisingly gentle when it came to patch ups. "The coward that put you in jail, make sure he pays up."

"Laswell told me she was looking into it. Don't worry." You assured him. Ghost had his commanding officer fuck him over too, but he'd had it a lot worse. You flexed your hand a bit to test the wrappings before Ghost applied tape.

"Soap to Ghost." Soap was heard in both your ear pieces. Ghost packed the kit up quickly, getting Soap to continue. "There's a guard approaching, west side."

"Company?" He asked.

"Find cover." Soap said confirming. You looked at the program still running. Unplugging it would mess up the files, you know that. Ghost could hide no problems there, but you were a different story. Seeing your panic, Ghost ordered you to get on top of the server towers. You looked at your laptop, but he hissed for you to leave it. Yep you weren't going to argue with him. Ghost instead hid beside the tower closest to the door, while you waited on the tower. You kept glancing down to see if the program had finished yet. Almost. Come on, come on, come o-the door opened and you pressed yourself against the top of the tower as much as you could.

The guard walked in casually, likely a routine check-up, make sure no one was fucking around on duty, literally and figuratively. The door slowly closed behind the guard while you held your breath. You know Ghost isn't gonna kill em, if he does it will raise alarms if anyone finds him. Knocked out, it could be from anything. Ghost readies himself, shifting his weight to go in for a headlock. Then the guard stops and starts patting his pockets. Holy shit there was no fucking way. The guard turned and freaking left?!

"Click, where are we at with the files." Ghost asked as soon as the door shut behind the guard. You glanced down again.

"Done." You whispered with excitement. Okay, one down, one more to go.

"The guard is leaving, you need to move." You heard Alejandro say. Didn't need to tell you twice. You hopped down from the tower, and unplugged your laptop, stashing it away quickly. Ghost left the room the same way he came in. Once you had you gloves back on you got back to vent. You moved quickly knowing it the guard could return again, even with Ghost out there lingering. The office was a much longer way to go, with plenty more vents along the way. You overheard some muffled conversations, casual stuff from guards and other cartel members.

"Click hold up." You heard over the comms. You stopped, looking through the vent grate. You had a tracker pinging your location through the shafts, so the team knew where you were for each room. You noticed a group of people chatting, all masked. Your small size, meant less weight so no issue with making too much noise. You could hear Soap's irritation over comms.

"Soap, status?" Ghost requested.

"There's someone else in the office, talking to the leader. They're chatting and friendly by the looks of it."

"You need a distraction?" Gaz offered. He and Price had been pretty quiet throughout the mission thus far.

"Alejandro?" Soap asked.

"In position." He said. After a confirmation from Price you start to hear a loud ruckus. The men below look around confused, unsure of what they were hearing. Then you hear Alejandro barking orders at them in Spanish and they start moving. You needed to move to. Rudy would have to make himself scarce, so you would only have Soap as your eyes through the walls. You're a little ways from the main office when you hear a noise in your earpiece followed by Soap cursing again.

"Soap status?" Ghost asked, more concern in his voice.

"Shift change." He said quietly. Okay now you had to move faster and you scurried through to office, overhearing a commotion from Soap, likely dealing with his shift change. Get in and get out, the commotion will pull the leader away. Rudy confirmed it. Except the leader's guest was still in there, with Rudy guarding the door. You saw them once you reached the office, and saw him sitting casually at the desk, as if he were just waiting for his boss to return so they could keep up their friendly chat.

You kept an eye on him, waiting for the commotion on Soap's end to finish. The extra occupant was an unplanned variable. There was no back-up plan aside from the distraction. Damn it this made things more complicated. "We have a John Smith in the office."

Soap stopped whatever he was doing with the guard and returned to cameras. He saw the extra variable. You had to wait for orders, and heard him talking to Simon about what they could do to get rid of the guy. Killing him would be the easiest but it's harder to cover up as opposed to a quiet infiltration. Your ears flattened, as you let yourself relax in the tight space for a moment. You arms were getting sore from holding yourself up. Mad props to the soldiers who could do it under long stretches of dirt and mud.

John Smith got up from his chair and started to walk around the room. You reported it, and heard Soap, Ghost and now Alejandro debating what they could do. Then the stranger turned, letting you get a good look at his face. Your ees widen, and you cover your mouth to keep yourself from gasping. No, there was.... no. That fucking bastard.

"I don't recognize him." Alejandro said.

"I... I do." You said, trying to control your emotions. The soft white noise of the comms was deafening as you remembered the night at your apartment, when he came to see you. You thought he came to be friendly, but you were naive. Thinking you were doing the right thing.

"Click, we need a name." Ghost said, having to repeat himself. You gave his name and his rank. The team realized your connection to him immediately.

"Permission to engage?" You asked. Price needed a moment to think about it.

"Can you keep control?" He asked.

"Affirm."

"Engage, you do not have execute authority." Price ordered.

That's all you needed, as you got the vent grate off. You waited for him to come into view, being sure he could hear the noise. As soon as he was in view, the grate was angled and aimed. You forced it down as hard as you could and hit him in the head, making him stumble back and fall against the desk. You didn't know it but the noise form outside the office caused Rudy whip around. He'd heard the order but didn't know what you'd done.

You dropped down with ease, landing in a crouch while your old boss groaned. When you stand you keep an eye on him, pulling up your face mask. You heard Rudy ask if you wanted help. No you could handle this. Once again you plugged in your laptop to the main computer and ran the program. While that was running, you went back to your boss, who was slowly getting back up, and hit him in the stomach, getting him keel over. That was a mistake.

Your former boss is bigger than you, by a couple of feet. Keeling over he was able to grab you, and drag you with him to ground, pinning you down on your stomach. "Hey there mouse. Long time no see."

Of course he recognized you. You had been the shortest on your old team, and the only hybrid. He thought it would disarm you, but you freed your arm and elbowed him in the face, hard. Once he rolled off of you, you were much faster, climbing on top of him. His mistake was not wearing any armour. Jail time taught you some tactics as well. A quick comm to Rudy and you grabbed between your former boss's legs. You grabbed hard, fingers curved in. The look on hos face was so worth it.

Did he try to knock you off? Yep, but any attempts vanished when Rudy sent in the cadejos at your request. Both stood over him growling. When he tried to cry out, you covered his mouth. His pained muffled groans however would have left plenty of questions if there weren't visuals to back it up.

"Anybody have some questions for this guy? He's an informant working with a cartel after all. Not undercover either." You asked. They didn't admit it, but anyone seeing you on the cameras was wincing a little at yur methods.

"Is he a client of the cartel?" Price asked, unable to see what exactly was going on.

"Are you a client?" You asked him, uncovering his mouth.

"You're a rat bitch." He said. You squeezed, and admittedly, enjoyed his pained expression.

"Yeah I am, but that's not the fucking question." You told him. "Are you a client? Yes or no?"

"N-no." He managed. You loosened your grip.

"Why are you here then? Serve them with a warrant to check their liquor cabinet?" You asked, jerking your head towards the glass of alcohol on the desk.

"To keep your ass in check." He said. You squeezed again.

"You never needed to keep my ass in check. Try again!" You said.

"A business deal." He said quickly. You loosened and he sighed with some relief.

"See it'll hurt less if you do answer me nicely. Also keep in mind, we're in the very room containing documents that can easily disprove your statements." You said.

"Information... for product." He said. "Get off of me."

You stayed on top of him, because you wanted to do so much worse to him. In this moment you had the high ground, both physically and morally. You wanted to twist.

"Click, how long until you have the data?" Rudy asked. By now he'd probably seen what was going on. You needed to focus. Besides, now you had proof of his guilt and an extra reason to walk free after. You twisted your body and made out only a few seconds left on the screen. Your former boss tried to take advantage of your vulnerable state, but you were faster, punching him in the throat. Then you put your hands together into a fist and slammed down on his stomach, lifting your legs to bring more momentum with your weight. Yeah he wasn't going to get up any time soon.

Once you got off of him, you got to the other side of the desk, turning your laptop around to face you. Data completed. "Just need some hard copies."

"We're out of time Click, take what you have." Price said. Damn it, you got caught up in your personal drama. The cadejos vanished, returning to their vessel. As you watched them leave, your attention attached itself to some papers on the desk. A contract, with signatures. You took out your phone and started taking photos, as many as you could in between a rushed packing job. You even opened a desk drawer and took photos of the inside before putting the laptop in it's bag. Okay now it was time to go.

"I need an evac." You said.

"Rodolfo." Alejandro said. All he needed to say. Rudy came in and you put your hands up in surrender. The same routine as when it started, except he left your legs alone. Your buff went over your eyes and you were led out of the room. Your old boss was still on the ground groaning. Rudy took one look at him before turning and dragging you out of the room. You didn't see much of what happened after that.

Once you returned to base, you thanked Rudy for his help. Too much longer and Rudy might have passed out, you knew it was a risk. His only request was that on the off chance the two of you worked together, you warn him if you do something like that. You could agree to that.

As for the data you collected, it was enough to get the cartel taken down, and put plenty of people behind bars. You contract could also put your old superior away, and reopen the investigation into the crimes you'd committed. Until then you were permitted to remain on base, working through the intel you'd collected. Your assistance had been a great asset.

One day you get pulled into Price's office where he commends you on a job well done, especially when it had been so personal. Unfortunately, that was your one flaw, in your opinion. You made and took things personally. It was why you put on a sarcastic attitude from time to time.

"Yeah well, I had the motive of a hefty paycheck." You told him, cracking your back oulling your knee to your chest and resting your chin on it. It wasn't the real reason, but Price didn't call your bluff. That smug look you gave him was growing on him, ever so slightly.

"About that..." Price started. Your ears flattened, and your body straightened. What the fuck, you signed a contract! You should be getting paid. Price smirked at your insulted expression. "You're still getting paid, and a substantial amount."

"But?" you asked. Yeah there had to be more. No way there wasn't.

"You have a great skillset, you have a strong mentality, your abilities prove that you're a great asset, and you get along well with the rest of the men. That being said, I can't recruit you because of your criminal record. Laswell was adamant."

You fidgeted in the chair, listening intently to what he had to say. The captain slid a piece of paper across his desk. You took it and looked it over. "I could use someone like you on my team though."

Freelance work. The paper was another contract, for Price to have the ability to call on you should he need your services. It was tempting. The risk involved...

"I think I'd be better off giving you my number." You admitted. "I'm sorry Cap. Military and politics aren't the best for me. Learned that some time ago."

Price could've told you everything that was in that contract, how it ensured your immunity if charges were ever laid, the high prices they were willing to pay, and your freedom to turn down work. You'd already been screwed over hard by the system. Would the contract let you do what you did best? Yep. But it forced you to make judgment calls, ones that went wrong in the past. Price understands your concerns.

"Let me know when it changes." He said. You could agree to that.

You reclined in your chair with your headset and your feet on your desk. A video was playing in your ears, while you were gaming with the controller in your lap. After a long day you deserved some time to yourself. Your lamp was on to keep your eyes from watering, while your laptop ran through some programming and codes. You set the controller aside, to take another bite of your take out. You get two notifications on your phone which you check. The first is from your ankle bracelet having an issue. You contact the officer in charge of you, informing him that you're not doing anything and the bracelet is having problems.

The second is from a familiar name. You smiled, and called him. "Hello new phone, who dis?"

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elliethefroggy · 11 months ago

Text

Buck doesn’t let his jealousy get the better of him, doesn’t body check Eddie at the basket ball match, Tommy doesn’t go over to his apartment, there is no kiss, Tommy does not ask Buck out on a date.

What happens instead is this:

Tommy becomes an honorary 118 member, starts hanging out more and more with everyone from 118. By extension, Tommy starts spending more and more time around Buck. Tommy finds it very inconvenient when he starts crushing on a supposedly straight Buck (Tommy tries to resist but that resistance crumbles every time Buck smiles at him).

Queue Tommy secretly pining over Buck, and sighing longingly whenever he catches a glimpse of Buck.

Now in my mind, Tommy and Chimney remained pretty close after Tommy left, close enough for Tommy to drop everything the moment Chim calls to steal a helicopter. Chim also undoubtebly knows about Tommy’s sexuality.

This means that Chim is witness to Tommy’s pathetic pining. This also means that Chim is there to catch Tommy spending far too much time looking longingly at Buck’s various assets.

“Buck’s going to remain straight no matter how long you stare at his ass,” Chim reminds Tommy. This is not the first time Chim has had to remind Tommy of this.

Tommy sighs despondently, “I know. Doesn’t mean I can’t admire the view.”

“This wouldn’t be nearly as difficult if Evan didn’t have both gorgeous looks and gorgeous personality,” Tommy says one night at a bar. Being a good friend, Chim has started taking Tommy out whenever Buck’s straightness becomes too much for Tommy to bear.

“He’s just so adorable,” Tommy continues.

“I know, buddy,” Chim says, patting Tommy on the back (Chim has also had to pat Tommy on the back a lot as of late).

“Are we sure Evan’s straight?” Tommy asks after the first beer.

Chim, with absolute certainty, says “Yes, now get over yourself, you sad, sad man.” And then Chim buys Tommy another beer because he’s a good friend.

And because Chim is such an amazing friend, Chim can’t help but pay attention whenever Buck and Tommy interact, mostly to make sure Tommy doesn’t make too much of a fool of himself.

Which means he’s also watching Buck, and he’s watching Buck watch Tommy.

And that’s when the doubt creeps in.

Chim’s known Buck for a few years now, has seen what Buck is like around women he’s attracted to, knows what Buck’s pining face looks like.

And he’s seeing that face now whenever Buck looks over at Tommy.

At first Chim doesn’t believe his eyes, figuring that listening to Tommy compliment every single aspect of Buck from his eyelashes to his laugh has corrupted Chim’s brain, making Chim see things that aren’t there.

Because Buck’s straight.

Right?

The more Chim watches, the less he’s sure. Because there’s Buck being somehow both endearingly awkward and seamlessly smooth around Tommy. There’s Buck spending way to long gazing into Tommy’s eyes, and staring at Tommy whenever Tommy’s not looking. There’s Buck zeroing in on Tommy every time Tommy enters the room; There’s Buck holding onto every word coming out Tommy’s mouth. There’s Buck laughing at every one of Tommy’s jokes (and, sure, Tommy’s a funny guy with a real dry sense of humour, but he’s not that funny).

If Chimney didn’t know any better, he would say that Tommy’s not the only one who’s got a crush.

All signs are pointing to Buck wanting to hold Tommy’s hand, go on romantic walks along the beach with Tommy, as well as do more than PG13 things to Tommy.

Does Tommy actually stand a chance?

Chim doesn’t want to get Tommy’s hopes up straight away. He needs to make sure that his hunch is correct. He needs to gather more data.

So Chim starts inviting Buck and Tommy everywhere he can think of, and then pretends to take a really long time in the bathroom so that Buck and Tommy can have some alone time while Chim is hiding behind a bush or a potted plant depending on the location, spying on them.

Tommy, because he’s a very observant person, notices Chim in the bush with binoculars pointed at where Tommy and Buck are seated, and confronts Chimney after Buck has gone home.

And Chim can’t keep a secret for shit, so of course he tells Tommy about his doubtS even though he really doesn't want to disappoint Tommy if it turns out that his hunch is wrong.

“I’ll keep investigating,” Chimney says, once again patting Tommy on the back, watching hope bloom on Tommy’s face.

Chim continues inviting Tommy and Buck to hang out, sometimes inviting others as well to avoid suspicion (Buck isn’t suspicious at all, but Hen has start narrowing her eyes at Chimney).

Tommy calls it torture, Chim call it science. Oblivious Buck is just concerned about the amount of time Chim spends in the bathroom. He asks Chimney if Chim’s having any any bowel problems. Chimney insists he doesn’t, but Buck figures Chim’s either putting on a brave face or is too embarrassed. Buck doesn’t bring it up again, but he does leaves some pamplets regarding bowel problems and their causes in Chim’s locker as well as sends Chim links to various medical websites.

Chim is mortified. Tommy finds it hilarious. Chim decides to attempt a different approach.

To try and throw Hen off the sent and to further advance his research, he gets Karen to drag them all to a gay bar to see how Buck reacts around other queer men (Karen is very amiable once Chim tells her of his suspicions; she always enjoys gossip).

Chim and Karen sit opposite Tommy and Buck, the better to observe them. Eddie, poor confused Eddie had to be discretely elbowed aside when he tried to sit next to Buck, and has been dragged next to Karen, supposedly so that Karen can arrange a play-date between Christoper, Denny and Mara. Though Karen is paying much more attention to Buck’s every micro-expressions than any word coming out of Eddie’s mouth.

Unfortunately, the gay club is a bust because Buck’s too busy learning about monster trucks from Tommy to pay attention to any other attractive man at in the bar. It’s hard to tell if Buck’s attention is due to an attraction to Tommy or if he’s just really interested in soaking up new information in that spongy brain of his.

Chim starts leaving queer memoirs scattered around the fire station (Karen gives excellent book recommendations).

Chim starts commenting on attractive men they see on the tele when it’s a particularly slow day at the station. He does this to such an extent that some of the members of B shift are wondering if Chim’s the one with a case of latent bisexuality. That thought is strengthened in their minds when Chimney starts bringing some those magazines with the romance quizzes in them: ‘Best guy for you’; ‘Your ideal guy’; ‘What your celebrity crushes say about your love life’; ‘Take this quiz to reveal your partner’s star sign’; etc.

Then Chim very loudly goes on about how gay and single Tommy is whenever Buck is in earshot (and now some of B shift think Chim’s planning on leaving Maddie for Tommy).

The first time Chim brings up how gay and single Tommy is, Tommy takes him aside to ask him what the hell that was about.

Chim says in response, “Listen, if Buck isn’t 100% straight, he needs to be aware that you’re on the market so that he doesn’t go check out all the other male fish in the sea.”

Buck doesn’t make a big deal out of Tommy being gay, acts his usual self. Though he does manage to slip into conversation that he’s an ally. And when Buck does that, Tommy feel his hope to one day hold Buck’s hand during a romantic sunset walk along the beach shrivels up a little inside him. Chim gives Tommy yet another commiserating pat on the back, and takes Tommy to a bar later that night so that Tommy can drink his problems away.

Meanwhile, Buck knows that Tommy being gay isn’t a big deal, but for some reason Buck can’t stop thinking about it.

It’s not like he’s ever had a problem with anyone’s sexuality before, so what is it about Tommy?

And representation really does matter. Here Buck is, being confronted with a Man, a big, muscular man like himself, who enjoys going to the gym like himself, who’s in a similar profession to him. And this man is gay.

And that’s going to cause something in his mind to shift. Maybe he doesn’t notice that shift at first, maybe it’s only subconsciously.

Maybe he’s going to start picking up a few of those memoirs that Chim’s been leaving around; Buck’s always been fond of non-fiction after all.

Maybe he’s going to ask Hen and Karen about their experiences figuring out their sexuality, their coming out stories (during this conversation, Karen will be staring intently at Buck, looking for any signs of the queer thoughts Buck may or may not be having).

(Chim is very happy with this because pointedly asking Hen and Karen about their queer experience was next on his game plan.)

Buck doesn’t ask Tommy about his sexuality though, not yet at least. Buck can’t seem to bring himself to ask Tommy. Though he doesn’t know why.

Then Buck does as Buck does best and goes on a research binge about all the different sexualities, but more specifically bisexuality (I imagine there is at least one sexuality quiz during that research binge).

And, at the end of that research binge, the results are conclusive. Buck is bisexual. Maybe he says that out loud in his empty apartment “I am bisexual” and it feels right and it feels so very exciting.

Once he realises that he’s bisexual, a lot of things start making sense. Including Tommy’s ass. Tommy’s very fine ass that Buck can’t help but stare at. And Tommy’s eyes. And Tommy’s hands as well. And Tommy’s laugh; And definitely Tommy’s smile. Basically all of Tommy.

Buck keeps his newly discovered sexuality to himself for a bit, wanting some time to himself to live in this new reality of his, basking in this new part of himself.

Also so that he can spend a few days staring at attractive guys without any knowing looks from his loved ones.

Turns out he spends most of those few days staring at Tommy which, again, makes sense.

Because he is such an open book, it doesn’t take Buck long to come out.

He decides to tell everyone at the next get-together. They’re all outside, having another barbecue at Bobby’s and Athena’s. Tommy is also present for this.

Everyone is of course supportive and happy for Buck. Chim is forcing himself to stay still, even though he really wants to jump up and down, high-five Karen, high-five Tommy, and then shove Tommy in Buck’s lap.

Meanwhile, Tommy is in his chair, having a deer-in-the headlights moment, staring up at Buck, wide-eyed, slightly pale, a forkful of potato salad halfway to his mouth. Tommy is so frozen that Chim has to nudge him so that his fork continues its journey to his mouth.

Tommy chews on the potatoes mechanically, no longer paying attention to the delicious taste that he’d been previously enjoying, too busy trying to act normal and trying to rein in his growing hope. By Chim’s side-eyes, Tommy isn’t doing a great job.

As the night goes on, Tommy forces himself to not approach Buck no matter how much he wants to, mostly because has forgotten how to act like a normal human being.

But then Buck is right there, in front of him.

“Hey,” Buck says.

“Hi,” Tommy replies. So far so good.

Buck is looking at him, and Tommy is trying to remember what he’s meant to do with his hands.

“Congratulations,” Tommy forces out because congratulations are definitely in order, “How are you feeling?” He asks, genuinely curious.

“Good,” Buck says in that sincere way that comes so naturally to him.

“Yeah?

“Yeah, great. I feel, I don’t know, lighter I guess. I mean, I’m still me, but now I know why I spend so much time staring at men’s asses.”

Tommy snorts, “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

There’s a pause. Buck’s staring at Tommy, and Tommy’s staring at Buck, and neither want to look away.

“Hey,” Buck finally says, “tell me if I’m completely off base, but there’s this little Italian restaurant I’ve been meaning to try, and I was wondering if you’d want to come with me.” Buck stops, swallows. Tommy watches his adam’s apple move. Buck continues “Like, as a date.”

Tommy forces his eyes back up away from Buck’s neck.

“A date?” Tommy repeats, the hope inside him soaring.

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” Tommy says, smiling, not sure if he can believe what he’s hearing.

“Okay,” Buck says, smiling back. It’s a smile so soft that Tommy wants to trace it with his fingers, but they’re definitely not there yet and Tommy’s trying to act normal.

“Okay,” Buck repeats a little breathlessly, that soft smile still in place.

(During this whole interaction, Chimney is hiding in a bush, binoculars in hand. Karen is at his side, asking him what they’re saying.

“I can’t read lips!” Chim says, though he tries anyway with mixed results.

But then, Hen comes along and puts a stop to it, dragging Chim and Karen out of the bush and confiscating Chim’s binoculars.)

#bucktommy #911 #evan buckley #tommy kinard #buck x tommy #evan buck buckely #chimney han #karen wilson #this was way longer than it was meant to be #i apologize #i just wanted wingman!chimney hiding in a bush with binoculars #matchmaker Chimney is at it again #once again if anyone wants to write this fic in its entirety #please do #i would read the hell out of it #one day i will have time to start writing new fanfics #but that day is not today #or tomorrow #or anytime soon

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genericpuff · 8 months ago

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I've been griping about the normalization of identity outing via social media for a while now. To put it simply, it's become almost some weird societal requirement that if you don't have every detail listed about yourself in your Twitter/FB/etc. bio, then it means you have "something to hide" or that you're not as "verifiable" because your account looks indistinct from that of a bot.

But that societal norm has really only benefited the people who profit off of that information in some way, whether it's through selling user data or through weaponizing details about a person against them.

I know that a lot of us love to use the fun little labels and acronyms in our bio that help others like us identify us as a 'safe person' or as someone who's in the same social/racial/identity groups as them. We're humans, we love to categorize things, it's in our nature (and it's fun!)

But if there's any time to start regulating that habit and challenging the norm that you're obligated to include all your personal info online - it's now.

There was a time when sock puppet accounts were expected and typical, not "suspicious".

There was a time when even age-sex-location was considered "too much information", but once it became the norm, we only EVER gave our personal information beyond generic ASL to people who we knew both online and in real life, or at the very least, people who we had known online for a significant enough amount of time that they had proved to be trustworthy (and even then, we didn't owe that information to anyone, ever; there are forum friends who I made online 10+ years ago and still talk to who do not know my personal information beyond broad strokes).

There was a time when simply being an avatar with a funny username was enough. And it still is enough, but massive platforms like Facebook and Twitter have been brainwashing us for years to believe that's not the case, under the guise of, "You wouldn't want to be dishonest, would you?" Through these same norms, we were led to believe that anime profile pictures are cringe, that having a fake online name is stupid, that the photos of you having fun at social events have to be taken JUST right otherwise you might imply to others that you're not actually having fun.

And considering how long these platforms have been around now, we have entire generations of children now who have been born and raised on that version of the ZuckMusk web, who have been taught that it "protects them" to express to everyone publicly their age, their school, their workplace, their family members, everything about themselves, because to not do so would be disingenuous.

None of this is to imply that the Internet was "safer" back in the day. I definitely should not have been on the Internet as much as I was when I was 13 in the late 2000's, it definitely did not benefit my brain development or my social skills. But the version of the Internet we currently exist in now is one that's been predicated on the false sense of security - the belief that if you're honest, everyone else has to be, too.

We've always had ways of identifying our safe people - by participating in the communities that we know are designed around our hobbies, our interests, our people. They might be small, they might not be as "cool" as the idea of netting yourself a big following of thousands of people, but they're also a lot safer and more genuine than that idealized following ever could be.

Don't feel pressured to include every bit of information about yourself in your bio. Even on Facebook, there's no rule that says you have to list your workplace, your school, your family members. There's no rule that says you have to list your personality type, queer labels, and neurodivergent disorders in your Twitter bio. There's no rule that you have to "prove" your life is real and fulfilled through the verification of photos, location tagging, and open-book sharing. If you share those photos, it should be because you genuinely want to share them, not because you feel some societal pressure to live up to others' expectations.

And I guarantee you, even your local mutuals on Facebook - your former classmates, family friends, distant relatives, coworkers, etc. - do not actually give that much of a damn about your personal life that they should be owed that much of a look into it on a daily basis. They've got their own shit going on, they literally do not need to know every detail about you.

I know it sounds scary. It also sounds kind of boring, when we've been used to a certain "way" of browsing and participating for years, that if we don't do so, it feels like being in the "out group" and that we're "breaking the rules". But I promise you, after spending over half my life online, those rules do not exist or benefit anyone who wouldn't profit off that information.

If you're wanting to learn how to branch off from major platforms like Facebook and Twitter and/or become more self-sufficient online, here are some guides to navigating the Internet like an old schooler that may help you!

FREE SITE BUILDER:

DIGITAL PIRACY 101:

(also in addition to everything mentioned here ^^^ they neglect to also mention Tor Browser which is a light and free-to-use browser software that allows you to browse anonymously; note that it's similar to a VPN in that it helps hide your identity online, HOWEVER it won't mask you from your ISP quite as effectively as a VPN, and if you sign into personal accounts with Tor, that's still going to obviously out you online lmao but I love using Tor for the odd time when I need to make a sock puppet for something and don't want it linked to my IP! and unlike a VPN, it's free to use!)

LEARN HOW TO USE RSS FEEDS:

People still use these! They're especially helpful for getting updates from your favorite pages and sites directly to your browser WITHOUT having to worry about stupid algorithm bullshit picking and choosing what you see. And many sites DO have RSS support once you know how to find it! (like adding in /rss at the end of a URL! Like this!)

FAKE EMAIL SERVICES:

LEARN HOW TO CODE IN HTML/CSS/JAVASCRIPT (AND MORE!):

DECENTRALIZED SOCIAL MEDIA PLATFORMS:

I hope this helps arm you with some new knowledge in how to navigate the Internet like a Certified Old Person™️(like meeee!) Make your secret alt blogs for besties! Make your formal Facebook accounts that are clean of personal information and present the most neutral, safe-for-work version of yourself and keep the fun stuff to the secret profiles and chat groups that are just for you and friends/family/etc!! It might be "inconvenient" to have multiple accounts for the same purpose, but it's also INCREDIBLY freeing and can make your online experience both safer and more enjoyable.

Being "less" of yourself online does not make you any less you. It is your identity - you do not owe any amount of it to anyone beyond yourself. And in times like these, your identity is your greatest asset. Protect it.

#how to #online safety tips #be safe on the internet y'all #oh and delete those period trackers #just get yourself an old school calendar / notebook for tracking #trust me on this one

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