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poptod · 3 years

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Cyber Security (Elliot Alderson)

Description: An online ad leads him to you, though in reality he has little interest in your ad. What interests him is how you accidentally doxxed yourself and how oblivious you are to that fact.

Notes: idrk what to say about this one its one of those things that i wrote at midnight after almost falling asleep to a fantasy and then realizing it could work as a fic. like i did this same thing with ‘close your eyes’ that one was also a before-bed-to-get-to-sleep fantasy. this is also not a particularly romantic interaction, though it can be read as such WC: 2.2k

Sweat drenched his sheets, bathing him in the cold wind that breezed past his only air conditioner lodged in a nearby window. He stared blankly upwards, half shivering and half overheated, as he once again found himself in a familiar predicament—the practice of sleep.

It was no secret he had trouble calming himself down, and that aspect of himself reached into the evening, as well. He already downed three melatonin pills hours earlier, along with smoking a joint that should’ve put him to bed. Unsurprisingly, that did not work.

“Xanax,” he mumbled to himself, hearing it bounce back from empty walls. “Need to get xanax.”

In the meantime he raised himself to his feet, padding across freezing floors to his computer. With a click of a button the white screen buzzed to life, shining bright onto his sleep-heavy eyes, that did their best to acclimatize to the sudden change.

Hypnotization—strange as it might’ve been—had worked a couple times before. Not all the time, but decently enough to give it a try. He had work in the morning and he didn’t need to be more miserable than usual, especially since he hadn’t slept almost the entire weekend.

sleep hypnosis

The blinker flickered for a moment before his fourth finger slammed down on enter, the last step in calculated movements. What popped up first was a video titled [ SLEEP HYPNOSIS ] 8 Hour Loop with a screencap of a spinning black and white screen. Below that, however, was something he hadn’t seen before—a YouTube video titled exactly what he’d typed, lacking the caps just as he had. The title screen appeared to be some sort of poorly-drawn painting.

Curiosity overcame his hazy, aching head, and he clicked, finding a playlist of videos containing what could be the titles of songs, along with several different poorly-drawn title screens.

The first video began to play before he could realize it. What he first noticed was it was bereft of ads—that meant the publisher made no money off the album.

Sat in the presence of God

whose name means filthy old fraud

Captions had been manually added by, he assumed, you. The author. There were three views on the video, no comments, and no likes, leaving few other options.

Maybe it was the melody—maybe the lyrics, who talked of a world plagued by aristocrats. But he found his eyelids heavy, dropping dark eyelashes in his vision that blurred the screen. By the third song, reciting verses of an Islamic poem, he was slouched in his seat.

He slid down to the floor, crawling his way back to flop onto his bed. The music continued to play till the first ad popped up, at which time he opened his eyes, seeing a music video from Katy Perry, at which time he promptly reached over and unplugged his computer. He wasn’t sure which cord he pulled out, but the screen still went black. With that, he just barely sneaked into his covers, dozing until the morning.

It was far too easy to get information on you. Your full name was stated clearly in your youtube bio, alongside several different social media tags leading to instagram, tumblr, and facebook.

Facebook alone provided him the means to your address, and he didn’t even have to go looking for it. Your most recent post was an ad, searching for someone good with computers to aid you in your recording process, which you noted as ‘dismal’.

Are you fucking kidding me? He thought to himself, reading the ad once more.

Your address, your real, physical address was stated as the place you wanted to meet those interested in helping you. On the internet. You had doxxed yourself after less than a year of being online.

Okay, he thought, clicking on your listed email. Someone needs to be taught a lesson.

Three days later—after about two weeks of listening to your echoing voice every night—you replied, sending a cheerful email detailing when you would be available to meet him. After shooting a short message back, the date was organized.

Two more days and he was standing at your doorstep, his neck craned upwards as he scanned your tall, narrow home squished between two other apartments. He just barely knocked before the black door swung open, revealing a familiar face belonging to a stranger. Elliot was dressed in his black hoodie and jeans, a stark difference to your long, colorful robes, coming out of a sort of fantasy world.

“Hi,” he said, his voice grating with how low and quiet he kept it.

“Hello,” you said with a smile that did not match his hunched posture. “Are you Mr. Alderson?”

“Elliot,” he corrected, his chin just barely raising to meet you. “Elliot Alderson. Elliot works.”

“Alright,” you said, nodding. “Come inside? I was just making tea. Do you like tea? Or do you prefer coffee?”

“I... I’m fine, thanks,” he said softly, scooting past you when you opened the door wide enough for him to enter. He sucked in a breath as his chest brushed yours.

Your home was modern—far fancier than Elliot’s own apartment, with large windows flanked by soft grey curtains. A small, upright piano was in the corner of the living room, set upon a reed mat lined with Korean symbols. The couch was clinical, made of a sort of black plastic leather that matched the grey skies beyond the window panes.

He sat down, shifting his feet closer together as his fingers dug into his palms, continuing to scan the room in its’ entirety until you returned with your own tea.

“What kind of experience do you have? School counts,” you said, setting your cup down on a tiny plate whose decorations matched your teacup.

“I’ve been... experimenting, with computers, since I was around 9,” he said, mumbling the words out as his shoulders hunched awkwardly down. “Have a job at a cyber security firm. Started a while back.”

“You still have that job?”

“Yeah,” he said with a small nod. “Jus’ thought this would be... fun.”

The dead look on his face indicated no humor whatsoever, but you took his word as it was.

“How’d you find the ad I put out?”

“I... I listened to your music,” he answered honestly for once. “Helps me fall asleep.”

“Oh,” you said, clearly taken aback. Your face grew warm as you glanced away with wide eyes. “I’m glad I could help.”

“You’re not very good with technology, though,” he said in his usual low, grating voice.

“Not really,” you chuckled sheepishly. “That’s why I put out the ad -“

“No, not that,” he interrupted you. “You put your physical address on the internet. You doxxed yourself. Do you even know how dangerous that is?”

The lyrics of your songs pointed towards a kind of brilliance, balanced against emotions felt thoroughly on pages and screens. It didn’t match your actions at all.

“What’s doxxing?” You asked.

Elliot had to physically stop himself from sighing and leaving.

“You want everyone to know where you, a minor celebrity, live?”

“I’d hardly call myself a -“

“I could’ve been a murderer,” he said, reaching into his bag.

He looked you in the eye as he pulled out a gun, clicking on the safety before he pointed it at you.

“This is how easy it would be to kill you.”

As expected, you stiffened at the sight of the iron barrel, your fingers withdrawing to your chest. Your lips pursed as you met his gaze once more.

“Please put the gun down,” you whispered, your voice cracking.

He did as you said, resting the gun on the table.

“That’s a hell of a way to start an interview, Mr. Alderson,” you said quietly. “Please get out of my house.”

His heart sank. What had he expected? For you to fall to your knees and sing to him as he desired you to do? He threatened you with a gun to teach you a lesson, and you reacted accordingly. Calmer than others would.

Elliot stood on shaky legs, sliding the pistol into his backpack before he zipped it up. Throwing the pack over his shoulder, he swallowed through a tight throat, shuffling as he delayed his departure.

“Keep safe from people like me,” he said in a strained mumble. “Take that ad down. Meet people from the internet only in inhabited, public areas.”

You tapped your fingernails on the table for a moment, chewing on your bottom lip. Suddenly you stood, tugging on his sweatshirt sleeve to get him to face you, instead of staring at his feet.

“Alright. If you’re really so good at the internet -“

He ignored your incorrect grammar.

“- and... if you actually do want to help me with my songs,” your tone softened, “then you’ll be able to find my real name, not my stage name. If you do.. I’ll hire you.”

“Alright,” he said monotone, knowing the battle was already won.

Even though he knew your name already, he turned away and left to his apartment, immediately going to work on figuring out everything he could about you. If you willingly still offered him the job after that, he knew it would take a lot to scare you off. He could impress you.

It was, after all, the only thing he was good at.

Two days later he showed up at your apartment again, quietly thanking you when you let him in. The clean floors and walls remained unchanged since his last visit, and you led him to the same table, sitting him down on the same seat.

“Your name is (Y/N) (L/N),” he started with. You already appeared to be surprise. “You grew up near LA and you’ve had a chronic illness all your life. At eleven you saw your first therapist.. that must’ve been when you first got diagnosed with depression... and anxiety.”

“Killer duo,” you muttered.

“Your parents split when you were thirteen, which came at the same time as your dog, Penelope, died. Or... sometime that year. When was that... 1997?”

“1999,” you said quietly.

“Your mom homeschooled you,” he continued. “That’s probably why you don’t know how computers work. Rather eclectic, in a.. boring way... an ex-Amish, right?”

You nodded and his heartbeat tripled. Everything was right thus far despite a two year difference in his guesstimate of your life’s timeline.

“Then there was your dad... logger in the Redwood forests. Burly guy. Not a great man, from what I saw,” he said.

“He was fine,” you said with a small shrug as you looked away. “Didn’t ever hurt me, or anything.”

“Abuse isn’t always physical,” he said faster than he could think, dizzied by his own memories playing behind his eyes.

“I know,” you murmured.

You went silent, so he continued, hoping to pry more precious words from you.

“Your favorite color is yellow,” he said, leaning closer to you. “On Valentine’s you get chocolate strawberries, and on easter you get kinder eggs.”

Nothing.

“You studied mythology as a kid, and you made paintings of the forest you lived in with your mom. Santa Cruz mountains, I think.”

“Yeah,” you said. “I miss the forests.”

“I know. You want to visit Ireland again because it’s a land of faeries and moss, it’s a breeding ground for your song lyrics.”

“How did you find all this out?” You finally asked.

“You use the same password on everything,” he said, though that was far from the actual answer. “Your web browser tracks all your movements and you don’t try to stop it, or hide ads, or stay away from sketchy websites. Your parents aren’t much better, either.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you brought your hand to massage your brow.

“You’re way too smart to be helping me,” you said with soft laughter, blushing with your smile.

“It’s better than working for E Corp,” he said, huffing out a laugh that was hardly humored.

“E corp?”

“My.. uh, place of work,” he brushed off his slip. “My point is... I’d rather work with you and do easy work than work with my current fucking coworkers.”

You laughed, truly and fully this time, curling into a little ball that shook with the force of it. Your feet tucked into your tiny chair, making you even smaller.

“Bad people or just annoying?”

“Stupid,” he chuckled. “Don’t let me wear my sweatshirt.”

“Ooh, now it’s my turn,” you suddenly interrupted him, earning a strange look. “I’ve noticed things about you, too. I couldn’t learn anything off the computer, but you, you have anxiety too. Probably some childhood trauma.. maybe a dissociative disorder of sorts or a form of PTSD. Your jacket is like your home, and... you have sensory issues. Few types of fabric, don’t like to be touched, if I had to guess I’d say you might be autistic.”

“Blunt,” he said after a full minute’s silence.

“Do you mind?” You asked.

“No, not really.”

“Good. Then you’re hired,” you said with a smile, extending your hand for him to shake. “If you still want the job, of course.”

He watched you with evident apprehension, but took your hand after much thought, shaking with a firm grip.

“When do I start?”

#elliot alderson x reader #Elliot Alderson #mr robot #rami malek

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truthofherdreams · 6 years

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is this clickbait? (2)

also on ao3 + read the first instalment

BOYFRIEND DOES MY MAKEUP ft. Peter Kavinsky

Song Not-Bakery • 5.6M views • 4 days ago

“Hi everyone and welcome back to my second channel!” she greets the camera the way she usually does. “Today my boyfriend does my makeup and we’re here with Peter who’s, erh. My boyfriend.”

He’s already laughing. “Why do you have to say it so weird?” he teases her, his voice high-pitched from his giggles.

“I don’t know?” she replies in the same tone, looking away from the camera to stare at him. He’s got his bottom lip stuck between his teeth as he looks at her, and she forgets they’re filming, just for a second. And then she snaps out of it, focusing back on the camera. “So, yeah. It’s actually something I jokingly mentioned when Peter and I started filming together, and people have actually been requesting it a lot so…”

Kitty will edit screencaps of comments asking for this very same video in post-prod, she knows, the way she always does when people keep badgering her with the same thing over and over again. That’s how she ended up doing a fridge and pantry tour a few months ago, and a house tour too. People are damn too nosy for their own good.

“So here I am. Making a fool of myself on the Internet.”

She can’t help but laugh at Peter’s comment, just a little. “As opposed to?” she teases, and laughs some more at the way Peter’s nose wrinkles when he makes a face at her. “Anyway, I gave Peter my makeup bag, and he chose a tutorial from RomanticRonny to follow, ‘cause he obviously needs guidelines.”

“Obviously,” he scoffs. A pause. “Yeah, it’s helpful, don’t judge me.”

“Also, if you don’t already know, Veronica is moving to LA very soon and we’re all super excited about it,” Lara Jean adds, with a little wink to the camera. “So, which tutorial did you choose?”

“Well, you’re usually low-key with your makeup, so I picked something a little more bright and colourful for a change. It’s called ‘Faux Freckles and Sunset’,” Peter provides, doing little waves with his fingers to where Kitty will add the thumbnail to the video later.

Lara Jean hides her smirk. “You’re aware eyeshadow is very different on monolids, right?”

Peter pauses, looking back at her, horror on his features. He freezes for a few seconds, before he turns back to the video and pretends to stands up. “And that’s it for today guys, don’t forget to subscribe and…”

“Sit down,” she laughs. “I’ll help you.”

“Well, if you’ll help me…” he grumbles for show, sitting back down. He grabs a brush then, to brandish it in front of the camera. “Anyway, let’s get started!”

Lara Jean presses the play button on the video, already loaded on her laptop in front of them. It opens on Veronica’s final look as she greets her viewers and showcase the makeup tutorial, doing a few close-ups on the faux freckles and the eyeshadow work. It looks simple but beautiful, yet Lara Jean has no doubt Peter will struggle a little bit.

“She’s so pretty,” she can’t help but comment at Veronica’s baby doll face.

“She looks like the chick from Lucifer,” Peter adds.

Her mouth opens a little at the accuracy of his comment. “Oh my god, you’re so right!”

He preens a little, before he focuses back on the eyeshadow palette Veronica showcases on the video. “Hold on, hold on, wait, you don’t do foundation first?”

“No, eyes first.”

“Whoa, okay.” He watches as Veronica applies the first colour to her lids, before he pauses the video. “Okay, let’s try this. We don’t have the same palette but this colour looks close enough so that will do. Close your eyes.”

She’s laughing a little at how serious he is about it, but does as she’s told anyway, closing her eyes and facing him. She didn’t realise how intimate that would be, one of his legs between hers so they can sit close enough to each other, his fingers delicate as he holds her chin. He’s so close she can feel his breath on her mouth, and it only makes her want to kiss him. Which would ruin the shot, but oh well.

He softly applies pigment to her lid, then sits back to look at the result and hum his approval to himself, which makes her smile a little more.

“Don’t do that, it makes your eyes crinkle.”

“Well, excuse me for being happy,” she teases, and laughs harder when he taps her nose with one finger.

But then she sits straighter too, relaxing her features in a neutral expression. She wouldn’t want to make it harder on him, when he’s trying his best to do something decent. He plays and pauses the video a lot, to make sure he follows the instructions as accurately as possible. Eye shadow doesn’t seem to be too much of a disaster, but then he’s swearing a lot when it comes to eyeliner and mascara, giving Kitty a run for her money in blipping it all out.

“Okay, it’s not too bad,” he comments. “Oh she’s doing foundation now, cool.”

“Tell the audience why you chose that tutorial,” she prompts him as she opens her eyes again.

He’s rummaging through the mess of her makeup bag to find her foundation and a brush, before she guides him to the right one and to her beauty blender. “Cause there’s no contouring in this one.”

“Peter is scared of contouring,” she comments for her viewers.

“Am not!” he replies, almost offended. “It’s just a lot. And I like a more natural look on you.” Then, to the camera, “Who needs sharp cheekbones when you’ve got that pretty round face.”

She’s melting, just a little. “Awww, Pete.”

“Like a donut.”

“…And you ruined it.”

Her does The Face at her – when he grins so much his smile is all dimples and his eyes close almost entirely – before he goes back to the foundation. Which is kind of a mess, and she’s trying her best not to burst into laughter when he goes to town on her face with the beauty blender. She isn’t sure how effective it’ll be, cause he’s getting rid of half the product as he goes, but at least he’s having fun.

“I like how none of those brands are Western, by the way,” he comments as he shows her concealer to the camera, two fingers holding the tube with his hand behind it for the autofocus. A real beauty guru through and through.

“Yeah, it’s all Korean,” she grins. She can feel him drawing the triangle of concealer under her eyes, which might actually do a good job of hiding her never-disappearing bags. “When we go there, half the budget is for food, the other half for beauty products.”

He’s back to dabbing with the beauty blender again when he says, “And because people are going to be asking, yeah, we’re planning a trip to Korean next summer.”

She’s smiling now, chin dropping a little to hide her emotions from the camera, to which Peter replies with a large grin of his own, shaking his head a little in a silly way to mimic her and make her smile even more. Which is working, obviously.

(And if they have to cut there because he drops a quick kiss to her lips… Well. Nobody needs to know.)

“Do I need to fill your eyebrows in?” he asks next, and she’s once again stricken by how earnest he sounds.

It took them a few months to get to this video, if only because Peter was quite reluctant to do it – all because of Gen. He’d told Lara Jean that he’d asked Gen to do that kind of video before, once upon a time when they were dating, but she’d outright refused. Stated that he would only mess it up and make her look bad, and it’s not something she wanted for her modelling career. Lara Jean had (silently) called bullshit the moment he’d explained, but she could understand how he was feeling about it.

How he still feels, careful not to mess it up, to do something good so she will be pleased and happy about him. Not for the first time, she’s saddened by how insidious a toxic relationship can be to someone like Peter, too kind and too people-pleasing.

“Only if they look too powdery,” she explains.

He leans in closer, frowning at her eyebrows, before he blows on them softly. It tickles a bit and makes her laugh, to which Peter replies with a smile. “It’s fine. Also, no lipstick, your mouth is fine.”

“Your mouth is fine too.”

He grins. “You’re welcome.” Then he’s grabbing her chin again, his fingers soft against her skin as he turns her head this and that way to check up on his work, before he nods sagely. “Good. Freckles now.”

It goes a little bit faster from there, hand-poking faux freckles on her nose and cheekbones in different eyebrow pencil colours to make them look natural, before he dabs them with a beauty blender. Before she knows it, he’s nodding again and grabbing a round mirror.

“You ready?” he asks, eager and excited.

She loves him so much it hurts.

“Yeah, show me,” she replies, clapping her hands before raising them in front of her mouth.

He flips the mirror over so she can see her reflection, and her mouth opens in surprise.

“Oh my god, Pete,” she whispers as she leans in closer to the mirror.

The blending on her eyelids need a bit of work, and her eyeliner is definitely wonky, but the faux freckles look amazing, and the warm colour palette on her eyes looks amazing. He really did take care of all the details, and so she leans closer to the camera so the audience can look at the results too.

“You like it?” he asks, suddenly shy and nervous.

Her boyfriend. Her beautiful, amazing boyfriend.

“I love it!” she exclaims. “It’s so different, wow! Look at those colours!”

And if many people comment about how he’s blushing and looking at her adoringly, well. It’s nice to brag about how awesome Peter is, once in a while. He deserves it, if anything else.

Gabe Rivera ✓2 days ago

GUYS TONE IT DOWN THERE ARE KIDS WATCHING!!!!!

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RomanticRonny ✓1 day ago

Awwwww you guys! Peter did such a good job! Can’t wait to meet you all next month!

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bellyrubs 2 days ago

I know we’re all always commenting on the way LJ looks at him in the vlogs but can we talk about how SOFT Peter is around her? How he was delicately holding her face? The compliments all through the video? How pleased he was that she liked the look? We stan one perfect boyfriend.

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CovinskyIsLove 3 days ago

doctor: you only have 16:47 minutes to live

me: *clicks on this video*

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HairyPouter 4 days ago

last time I came this early Gen was still in the vlogs

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#covinsky #covinsky ff #covinsky fanfic #to all the boys I've loved before #fanfic #ff: tatbilb #ff: do it for the views

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